A Conversation with Barry Maher on: The Story Behind the Story

Before returning to fiction, Barry Maher built a life that reads almost like a story in itself. He’s written for hundreds of publications, taken on an equally wide range of jobs, and once lived directly on the beach, not just near it.

After time in the corporate world with a Fortune 100 company, he went on to speak professionally across the globe. You may have seen him on major networks like The Today Show, CNN, CBS, or CNBC, or come across his long-running syndicated column, Slightly Off-Kilter. Along the way, he’s also had a couple of unexpected detours, including two stints in jail, which he recounts with his characteristic blend of humour and humility.

In this conversation, Barry shares the remarkable and deeply personal story behind The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon.

The Conversation

What first sparked the idea for The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon — was it a moment, a feeling, or something that stayed with you over time?

I had a brain tumor the size of a softball. I couldn’t even tell time.
I came out of the surgery to remove it with the story for The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon in my head, like a memory of something I’d just witnessed. And it didn’t vanish like a dream. It stayed with me, clear and sharp, even as days passed.

Clearly, it was a story well worth writing. And how could I not share it with people? Not only was it an amazing tale, it was the strangest gift I ever received.

What’s more, like an impending hanging, a diagnosis of brain cancer focuses the mind wonderfully. And I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my days in airports and hotels, doing speaking engagements. I love speaking, so I’d still do some. But I wanted to be what I’d originally set out to be years ago—a novelist.

So I spent a couple of years making the story as good as I could possibly make it. Bringing out all the suspense and excitement. Finding all the humor. Honing each scene. Turning it into The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon.

Is there something about the story that readers might not immediately see, but that matters deeply to you?

The book is meant to be a thrilling, suspense-filled funny joy ride. Publishers Weekly just called it “loads of dark fun” and “a wild, funny noir nightmare.” But as the opening pages indicate, the growing horror mirrors Steve’s “struggle to overcome a failure that threatens to define his life”—and, ultimately, threatens to end it.

Steve was once, on his own terms, successful. Jailed, he was a hero. He believed in what he was doing and, to some extent anyway, in himself. Freed, he not only failed, he became, in his own eyes, a failure.

Now, he’s desperately trying to prove himself to himself—and making terrible choices. Terrible choices which compound, until it’s like he’s trapped, peering through the gates of hell—from the inside.

Did the story change as you were writing it? If so, how?

The major plot line stayed the same. But the story grew deeper, more complete. The implications were developed, the danger heightened, the humor set free. New characters arrived, and the ones that were there from the beginning took on lives of their own, often developing in ways that surprised me. Sometimes writing the book was like experiencing the story all over again. A story which also seemed to have a life of its own.

Was there a part of the book that felt especially difficult or personal to write?

The climax was the most difficult part for me to write. In the initial draft and in every one of the seven or eight additional drafts the book went through, working on the climax was like experiencing it myself. Six characters, their lives, their fears, their dreams and desires crashing together. Each of them caught in a life or death moment of terror. It was draining to write, and increasingly draining to experience. Probably because with each draft I had a deeper relationship with each of the characters. Even the demon.

Looking back now, what does this story represent for you?

To me personally, my time writing the book was a time of survival, a time of proving there’s life after a cancer diagnosis. I was determined to make the most out of every moment of it. More moments now than I once expected, with the cancer in remission.

Since my brain was involved, just being able to write a book people like was like an affirmation that my brain was still functioning, hopefully as well as ever. In some ways, maybe even a bit better—with more empathy and more focus. Now, every wonderful review the book gets—and fortunately there have been a lot of them—just adds to that affirmation.

Like Steve, I’m still here. I’m still standing. And I’ve still got work to do. And I hope, the ability to do it.

Closing Note

There are stories that entertain, and then there are stories that arrive from somewhere deeper, shaped by experience, urgency, and survival. Barry Maher’s work sits firmly in the second category.

Behind the dark humour and surreal edge of The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon lies something profoundly human: the need to make sense of failure, to keep going, and to reclaim meaning after everything has shifted.

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