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The Victory in Fighting
In Prodigal Song, readers follow you on your journey from your childhood in LA to your time spent as a struggling rock guitarist in Hollywood. Why was this an important book for you to write?
I started writing Prodigal Song shortly after completing a novel called Body: or, How Hope Confronts Her Shadow and Calls the Flutter Girl to Flight. Body is an inspirational romantic comedy exploring self-image and struggles with body image. I had many inspirations for the female protagonist’s issues, but my own story was the main source. I wrote Body with a female audience in mind, which greatly shaped how the characters related to their bodies and how that impacted their relationships and lives. I shared my own journey of identity, music, exercise, and obsessiveness with a friend who thought it would make a great book. I realized that by telling my own story, I could create a book that would explore themes of identity in a way that resonates more with men.
Also, I came of age in a time when everyone was in a band or wanted to be in one. I wanted to give Gen Xers an insider’s view of what it was like being in the Southern California music scene in the 1990s and 2000s, while letting them relish in the nostalgia of that time.
Ultimately, I want my books to be sources of insight and encouragement to readers. I know many people struggle with the themes in Prodigal Song—body image, identity, failure, anxiety, the need for adventure ,and meaning. I hope my story offers perspectives that help readers better understand and navigate their own journeys.
You are open and honest about your most difficult years, and I appreciate the candor with which you tell your story. What was the most difficult thing to write about?
I see Prodigal Song as my version of the first Rocky movie. Spoiler alert for a nearly 50-year-old film: Rocky doesn’t win the fight. He wins most of the fights in the sequels, but there is something sweet—and paradoxically victorious—in the failure explored in the iconic character’s debut. Sharing embarrassing stories wasn’t necessarily difficult, but I faced the challenge of writing a memoir about someone who didn’t succeed in the music business and making that compelling for readers. As Sylvester Stallone did, I had to show the victory in fighting regardless of the outcome.
What do you do when you try extremely hard to achieve a dream—for years—and the split decision doesn’t go your way? More people relate to this experience than to winning the championship belt. The hardest part was writing a book that offers fresh, meaningful insights into this well-worn path.
Is there anything you learned about yourself as you were putting Prodigal Song together?
The subtitle of Prodigal Song is A Gen X Memoir of Excess and Obsession in Pursuit of the Rock ’n’ Roll Dream. I brought the excess and obsession to my story—it was my friends who helped me channel those tendencies into a way forward, one with balance, accomplishments, and joy, even in the face of setbacks and failures.
In the book, I quote a lyric one of my friends wrote:
I don’t know where I’m going
But I know that where I am is not what I’d planned
I don’t know the way out
But I know that when a door is there
I will have a hand.
— Aaron Baker from his song “Someday”
Putting a book like this together, you really see all the unlikely events of your life that had to come together to bring you to the present—and I’m very thankful for my present. I’ve always been aware of how important my friends were along the way, but writing this book emphasized even more that my adventures in music and exercise were really adventures in friendship. At every step of my journey, I found a “door” to enter, and at every door was the helping and guiding “hand” of one of my friends, as Aaron’s lyric captures.
What is one thing you hope readers take away from the experiences you share in this book?
I hope this book can reinforce for readers the power of relationships—that our journeys gain meaning primarily through the connections we create with friends, family, and God. And in that communion, we can live in gratitude, regardless of whether our pursuit of goals and dreams leads to triumph, failure, or some wild, messy combination of the two.
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Part comedy, part cautionary tale, Prodigal Song offers a nostalgic and humorous take on chasing fame in the most image-obsessed place on Earth—Hollywood, California.
For many, the rock ’n’ roll dream ends in rehab, bad tattoos, or worse. For me, it led to a loss of faith and a ballooning waistline. By age twenty-five, I was overweight and spiritually flailing while trying to succeed in an industry where image is everything. So began a decade-long journey of excess and obsession—over my body, my diet, and the pursuit of success in music. I dropped 65 pounds, transformed into a touring musician, and was “living the dream,” though my soul was increasingly out of tune.
Enter an unexpected mentor—a straight-talking, virtuoso guitarist with a gift for speaking hard truths. Through his wisdom, I began to see beyond the mirror and uncover a path to redemption.
Prodigal Song is a story of excess and obsession, but it’s also one of grace, humor, and finding faith in the unlikeliest of places. Whether you’re a music fan, a dreamer, or someone who’s ever struggled with self-worth, this Gen X memoir will leave you laughing, reflecting, and inspired.
Prodigal Song: A Gen X Memoir of Excess and Obsession in Pursuit of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Dream
Prodigal Song is a deeply personal and wildly entertaining memoir chronicling Sean Coons’ journey from a chubby, music-obsessed kid in 1980s Los Angeles to a struggling rock guitarist trying to make it in the heart of Hollywood. The book traces Coons’ obsession with rock stardom, his battles with body image and compulsive eating, and the wild misadventures with his band, Song Unsung. It’s a raw look at the pursuit of artistic dreams, the trappings of self-indulgence, and the eventual pull toward redemption and meaning. Coons mixes humor with brutal honesty, all set against a vivid backdrop of ’80s and ’90s pop culture.
Coons’ writing is funny, sharp, and full of heart. He doesn’t try to make himself look cool or mysterious or tragic. He just tells the truth, warts and all. I loved how he could pivot from describing an embarrassing childhood moment to riffing on Van Halen lyrics or unraveling the twisted ethics of rock culture with surprising insight. I found myself rooting for him, even as he made bad choices or spiraled into food binges and self-doubt. It’s rare to find a memoir that’s this self-aware without being self-important.
What hit me hardest, though, were the moments where the glamor faded, and the raw stuff came through. When Coons realizes he’s eaten himself into obesity while chasing his dream, it’s not played for pity or laughs, it’s just sad and real. The way he weaves in spirituality, guilt, and the need for grace without ever getting preachy or stiff made the book resonate on a deeper level. He never quite gives up on his dream, but he learns that the real victory might not be fame at all. That really stuck with me. It made me think about my own ambitions and the things I’ve let define me, for better or worse.
If you’re someone who grew up loving rock ’n’ roll, or if you’ve ever felt out of place chasing a dream in a world that doesn’t seem to care, Prodigal Song will speak to you. It’s perfect for fans of memoirs like Rob Sheffield’s Love Is a Mix Tape or anyone who likes their nostalgia with a side of truth. You don’t need to be a musician to appreciate this story, you just need to have wanted something badly enough to lose yourself in the process.
Pages: 215 | ASIN : B0FG2PFXNT
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