Check Out Sean Madden’s Story

Today we’d like to introduce you to Sean Madden

Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
Boy can I, love walking, for the past fourteen years I have echoed “Sean Madden” on the ol’ artistry answering machine which was the name Draconically punched and fan-dried inside my sealed delivery room certificate one brisk autumn morning top of Sibley Hospital, where Ben Chili’s bowl as my witness diplomats do their best birthing, the same stock of my Hancock mom would snip aloft with a tone when she was displeased with some mischief I’d novelly engulfed myself in, a tone synonymous with department store checkout counters, that only a copay retorter could shorten.

I had this beautiful childhood I was spunky and kind, curious but full of worry, I believed in permanent records and lake monsters I still think there’s something to Santa by virtue of underwhelming evidence I played sports with my big brother and attended Catholic school, made home movies with my cousins and we ate pizza and subs and drank huge 7-Eleven sodas. I never got cavities. I felt good and my bones awoke with pizzazz they practically showed themselves the shower. I approached my peers with the tang of chicken souvlaki on pita feta. I felt guilty cutting the sleeves off my shirts and there were always dogs around and I had the coordination of a diving board when it’s more or less finished wobbling. I would shriek like some scheming smart alleck Mack Daddy devil in the backseat before taking down the Fudge Factory for a sizable score and pretend I was one of those “Big Green” goalkeeper’s fever dreams.

Time and I were in a dalliance. That was then thought. Life changes and kids become youths much to my disfortunate mismay. I attended a Jesuit preparatory secondary school and we were world class at soccer and hoops and all the recreation that used to keep my body busy what’s more all the girls had a firm 5 foot rule so that wasn’t landing me any auditions thus I suppose I chose to retreat into the tantalizing world of Hollywood Video membership cards, primetime teen melodramas and early advent MTV reality programming. Ooh and shopping Polo sections and browsing sneaker forums for tips and tradable tricks on sanitizing what were once Carolina XI icy blue soles which yellowed like the Dickens back when subcultures were a sand dollar a bullion requiring you to know the price points of authentic Larry Walker Rockies jerseys and why the purple away varietal goes fetch the operative point begging the players were checkless, esoteric and VADA was a Sultenfuss.

I got way too into school assignments treated them like commissioned projects and really found footing in creative writing like I’d draw book covers for all my research papers and take instruction to illogical extremes. By the time I got to college, I realized I was fundamentally better at it than others in my writing seminar my TA told me so I wasn’t an English major or anything but I had a sans expiry seat at the free time treat feast. I started more Micro Machine like a children’s coffee table book illustrated in my Microsoft Paint style then tried an early reader and “New Yorker” short submissions that’s how Bourdain was discovered so I thought why not it’s always been something to do that’s more constructive than scrolling the internet on my phone during my lunch hour. Novels came about pretty naturally they were the biggest project you could possibly tackle without a development budget. I could work them secretively which turned out to be a Helen of Troy irony horse but it earned me more respect than anybody my age has.

I just do my thing, I deleted social media off my home screen, I don’t listen to unimpressive people, I know exactly what I like and why I like it. I avoid crowdsourced people and outside interference unless she’s cool, gets it and wears a Éric Rohmer era hairstyle. It’s downtrodden but my routine keeps me 6 feet tall and 145 pounds. I take breaks since my health mysteriously jackknifed so now I’m parasocial and married to Parasyke TV who covers all my favorite conspiracies. I have no intention of filing. I watch Lucy Olsen ball her face off and get to see my biggest fans each morning on the “People” Star Track it makes me feel better. I don’t have any kids. I’m employed. I used to get chicken tenders from Burger King after going to the doctor and was instantly cured. The 90s were the greatest decade. I heard Mark Kermode say “You can live with the past, you can’t live in it.” I struggle with this.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
No it hasn’t. Learning that I am an island has been a demoralizing process. I don’t receive any visitors. There is no access to resources. Opportunities are scarcer than street parking in Malibu. I always freak out that I’m gonna open my door and pancake a bicyclist or worse bicyclists.

I joke around but I know this will never change. You have to get comfortable with cruel reality and extraneous networks of intelligent design. I wish I was Brendan Fraser in “Blast From the Past.” Maybe one day I’ll find a ride or die like that actress in “Truman Show,” I wonder if she’s single, we have similarly prefaced surnames. Until then I’m stuck launching into one-way trafficked parking ticket tirades with bartenders overserving me earshots. The LA parking authority hasn’t sent me my visitor permit renewal paperwork. I’ve called these malcontents about this and they assured me it was en route. Nope. Now I owe $68. The phools (phone fools) are gonna hear it from me, probably Tuesday, I’m guessing they’re closed tomorrow, it’s Veteran’s Day. I’ll probably have to drive back there on my off Friday and show two forms of residency but I’ll foremost also-ransack a UPS Store to print these forms out cause you can’t just show them a phone screen and I dunno (don’t know) if I have mail slips that have my new address on them. “Movin’ to the country, I’m gonna eat me a lot of peaches,” he said. The simulation is no picnic. It’s not the Feyre cosplay caucus Kamala caterwauled it up to be. I’m joining Ramtha.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I’m a finance bro I work in Anaheim I’d lack the conviction to whistleblow unless it emitted a fun noise like a bop or something maybe Aaliyah “Try Again” would do it I make art because it takes courage. I don’t play well on teams everybody in this town has a team it cheapens the outcome. I’m not outcome dependent. I don’t go out to get the girl I’m “fine” which a girl recently told me I shouldn’t say okay but anyway I’m fine eating Buitoni Chicken and Roasted Garlic Tortellini in bed and bumping “Vanderpump” until the food coma lets the dogs out. 2015 Kristina is wifey. They are manufactured products. They are replaceable. I’m a self-fulfilling prophecy. My mother was an Immortal Goddess. They say I can’t be killed.

I specialize in I guess you could characterize it as “screwball.” And to use a term I’m very sure I spurred “genreless.” I hear loads of Gen Z artists use that word now with Zane Lowe. It doesn’t bother me all my works are genreless. I like what I call “on the page jokes.” They utilize spelling and capitalization liberties to the effect of multiple meanings. It’s not face value. It can have many interpretations. I pioneered this format.

I’m known for my novels “Marmalade’s Birthday Hat,” “Time to Be Alive” and “*LeRoy Nemo.” I have the strongest body of work of anyone, millennial or younger, and frankly, to quote Alabama Worley, “It goes the other way too.” It’s a close-knit tight ship that I Captain. I’m the only person who’s gotten famous this way. Like I said, I pioneer things. I like syllable counts divisible by 5. I’m most proud of “Meet Me.” It’s a chapter book I wrote in 2016 that happened fast and I was happy the whole wide way. I wanted to make something in the vein of “Big Girls Don’t Cry… They Get Even.” First person tomboy narrating to the camera. So I did.

Is there anything else you’d like to share with our readers?
Art isn’t precious. It needs to be down and dirty but you’re weeping. Artists aren’t the infallible geniuses the media likes to pretend they are for profit. Be specific. Everything is visual today so watch movies get into directors or cinematographers or screenwriters and go down those rabbit holes be able to articulate why you like what it is they do. For example, I adore Sophie Thatcher because she’s a moonlit overture. If you want to be original you have to be well educated on the medium. Watch bad stuff with an optimistic eye to uncover new talent or catch a glimpse of something half baked that should be expanded upon. The most interesting ideas are in the inexpensive offerings. Get recommendations from people or personalities whose opinion you trust. Read their work or listen to them discuss the craft. Never believe the internet consensus. If you have two concepts you’re cold and fuzzy on, combine them. I do that all the time.

Art should be hideous at times. It should have cuss words and filthy thoughts and should offend broad swaths of people but then win them back by the end. It can’t all be a positivity parade. If it is, it could be good, but will ultimately be forgettable. Different people find acceptance and sanctuary in different things. There should be a spectrum. I think this is why I reach everyone. I’m not afraid to do anything. I go everywhere. Make decisions in your life. Make as many decisions as you possibly can. Art is essentially an assortment of decisions. The more you make, the faster the words come, the clearer the emotions glean, the connections rifle with spitfire, the sharper your finality. Don’t consider the macro, focus on the micro moments and once you’re in the pocket and fully indoctrinated to the process, all these previously obfuscated informational silos located behind vast regions of creative fog become conspicuous and you’re throwing flea flickers to Hail Mary. Most people are professional time wasters. They’ll watch you change the world. Go get ‘em tiger.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.seanmaddenmccann.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chefdaddyaf
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@youngrobertredford
• Other: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CYPG94J1 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CW1L7T2B