WARNING: You are about to read a semi-autobiographical novel by an unnamed A-list celebrity recounting his early years in Hollywood—and the dirty, deplorable exploits that catapulted him to fame.

THE AUTHOR is a dark absurdist take on the artist as a young man in a world damaged by social media, designer drugs, and the dark underbelly of Hollywood. The anonymous author of the saga peels back the curtain to reveal the inner life of a one-day superstar (or sociopath) desperate to become famous by any means necessary, who one day does, and pulls off one of the greatest public relations stunts in entertainment history.

Presented by Daniel Thomas Hind on behalf of The Author.

When Hollywood blacklisted this book and forced The Author into silence, Daniel Thomas Hind took on the challenge of representing him—risking his reputation to bring this story to the world.

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disclaimer.

This foreword is not an endorsement of the book that follows. It is more of a disclaimer. You do not have to read this novel. Throw it on your bookshelf and let it gather dust. Keep it on your coffee table to impress someone who comes over for drinks.

I, however, am not so easily impressed by literature. My client, the author of this novel, knows that intimately. It’s been screamed at him through phone lines across continents, whispered in his ear in the corners of movie premiere afterparties, but I should have known better than to think he’d take my advice on this one.

As much as I tried to treat it like a joke when he first pitched it, this book is not a joke.

We were drinking bourbon on my backyard patio. The kids had gone to sleep. It was a fine night to drink with a dear friend who’s made you boatloads of money. I’d invited him over to pitch a big reboot of a major franchise, an idea he’d already rejected twice. The studio was relentless in its pursuit. The money, it goes without saying, was astronomical. My client had just come off two majorly successful motion pictures. The reboot wasn’t the only project he’d been offered in the wake of these triumphs, but it was the one I wanted him to grab by the balls. I started softly. Innocently. I asked him what he wanted to do next.

To my great surprise, he said he was going to throw his hat into the ring of literary giants and write the first great novel for Millennials, Gen Z, and whatever cyborgs come after. Not some fantasy horseshit, he said, real literary fiction. Highbrow written for the lowbrow. Yada, yada, yada, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I hoped it was the bourbon talking.

I had to remind my client, gracefully, as I bit my tongue, that he’s not an author, he’s an actor. A very famous actor at that. Writing a novel could only hurt him. If it’s not incredible, he’d be murdered as a hack. He stopped me right there. He wasn’t worried about that, he said, desire in his eyes. You know the look exactly. He was worried it would be so fucking good and, still, no one would read it.

So, we agreed! I tried to make him see that even if the book is the next great American novel, whatever that means, no one will care. Nobody reads novels anymore, especially young people. Why waste your time? It’s a lose–lose proposition.

We had another glass of bourbon, he turned down the reboot, and with great charity I saw him out without slamming the door.

Sure enough, eighteen months later, my office received a package in the mail. It was a manuscript accompanied by a handwritten note.

Your whole life you tell yourself you want to be seen and heard.
Then you are and you realize you were dead wrong. You just want to be read.
Sorry for the radio silence. Been holed up in a cabin.
…Do you still love me today?

I held the very thick (too thick) bundle of pages in my hands. For a moment I was inconsolable. I tried to coach myself through it. Some of my older clients had written memoirs before, this wasn’t exactly new territory. Yes, but they had all employed ghostwriters, and their books were mostly factual accounts to elicit sympathy for their traumatic pasts, not disdain.

Still, how bad could this be?

A few pages in, I knew we had a real problem here.

These are dangerous times for public figures. I often advise my A-list clients to say as little as possible when interviewed, allow the audience to project onto you. Stay off social media, leave it to the imitators. And under no circumstances should you ever put any sensitive information—that is, colorful opinions that could be misinterpreted or weaponized by the media, sexual solicitations to anyone no matter how much you think you trust them, admissions of transgressions that could be held against you in the court of public opinion or, worse, the court of law, basically anything that has the slightest chance of reflecting badly on you—in writing!

You can imagine my horror, then, as I read the first-person account of my client whizzing through early 2010s Hollywood as he lied, stole, degraded, and intoxicated himself on his way to fame. This was all news to me.

I want to state for the record—on behalf of my agency and its board, in defense of myself and my better judgment, and for the sake of my client—this is a work of fiction. Nothing that follows is historical fact and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Because if anyone thought for one second that any of it was true, this book would be career suicide for my client. The following pages would end him. And, if not for this disclaimer, would end me too.

I’m left with no other option than to protect all those implicated.

To be clear, I possess no knowledge of what actually happened and what is imagined. What’s fact, what’s fiction. This is a novel, after all, not a memoir. I’ve let Legal handle the provisos, I’m sure they had a field day.

Here’s what I do know: My client is a good man, a brilliant artist, someone whose success has been built on eccentric habits and obsessively strict routines. He is a man of stoic principles, who treats himself like a scholar and an athlete, meditates daily, abstains from drugs, and cares deeply about his work and loved ones. He’s someone who quietly heads multiple companies and nonprofits, contributes generously to philanthropic organizations, and makes appearances for charitable causes when asked. He’s someone whose admiration spans continents, whose name blows up the box office, and whose talent on screen is once in a generation. That is who he is, how you will remember him. It’s his destiny and legacy.

Part of my legacy is to ensure it all plays out that way. Which brings me full circle to why I am the one introducing this work of mostly, I hope, fiction.

Upon learning of my client’s intent to publish, I immediately went into damage control and identified two protections:

Anonymity

Our agency has demanded my client remain anonymous. We’ve worked overtime to bury all, and I do mean all, associations between our client and the contents of this book, including names, dates, locations, timelines, et cetera. While my client promises that artistic integrity reigns supreme, nothing written happened exactly as described. Good luck trying to figure out his real identity. You can try, but you will fail.

For reasons sufficient to my client, he is quite happy with this arrangement and wants the merit of his literary achievement to stand on its own legs, free from the shadow of his celebrity. More importantly, we don’t want him to get sued or canceled.

Hence, you’ll know him only by his pseudonym, “The Author.”

Representation

Considering the risk, no matter how remote, that my client’s identity is somehow revealed, in good faith, our agency has chosen not to represent this project. Therefore, legally speaking, we have nothing to do with this book or its contents; my client has chosen to self-publish under his own volition. I am doing my client a courtesy by explaining all of this in writing.

And with that, my work here is done.

—“Harrison” (The Agent)

(And if after this preamble you decide to ignore my advice and continue reading? Enjoy. It’s what my client wants. And I always make sure he gets what he wants.)

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The Author's lawyers and agents have demanded he not release this scandalous tell-all, in fear of one of their biggest talents being canceled. Thus, to satisfy the wishes of his representation, the author of this book has decided to keep his identity anonymous. His team has worked overtime to bury all associations made in this book to its author. including names, dates, locations, timelines, etc. Hence "The Author."