Bottle On the Brain

The story I wrote for the short story anthology Movable Feasts is called "The Bottle." Set in the late 19th century, the story is about the pettifoggers who peddled curative tonics, and their struggle in the face of a public who was becoming wise to their ways. I just realized that my story would have been much better if I'd used "pettifoggers" in it, because it's one of the best words I've ever found via Dictionary.com.

Published earlier this year, the collection was edited by my good friend Jim Corrigan. Not a man to let grass grow under his feet, Jim solicited stories for another anthology soon after. Whereas the theme for Movable Feasts was "eating out," the unifying concept for the next book is "travel."

I certainly took some liberties with the the theme the first time around, and wrote too many words, but I felt pretty good about "The Bottle." I published my own collection of short stories, (C)rock Stories: Million-Dollar Tales of Music, Mayhem and Immaturity in 2010. All 15 stories were centered on music (and one of them was called "Message In a Beer Bottle" -- go figure), so I wanted to do something different for Jim's premier collection.

When Jim asked if I was on board for his upcoming travel-themed collection, I of course said yes. I had no idea at the time what I would write, but I knew I'd come up with something. I'd been outlining a collection of stories about the town where I grew up, and realized that one of the ideas I had could be molded to fit the travel theme.

One of the characters from my childhood was someone one of my friends dubbed Lady Death. I sketched out a basic idea for the story, and knew that once again my interpretation of travel might be a little loose, but I liked the idea of the story and started working on it.

I've plugged away on and off over the last few months, and have mostly completed a first draft. As I got toward the story's climax, I did a little research that led me to some important information that fit perfectly into my story. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that, quite unexpectedly, I've ended up writing another story in which a bottle plays a role.

Unlike in "The Bottle," the glass vessel in my new story (working title "Lady Death Trip") isn't a central component. But it certainly plays an important role.

Once I finish the story and things move along toward publication (Jim is working with several authors, and is in the reading phase right now with some of them) I'll offer more details, and let you know when and where you can buy the book.

Out of My Hands...for Now

Last week, after more than a year of on-and-off work, I emailed the manuscript of my road trip memoir to six friends and family members. The book isn't done, but I needed to get it out of my hands and in front of the eyes of impartial readers. This is a big step for me.

I spent 10 years writing my first book, (C)rock Stories: Million Dollar Tales of Music, Mayhem and Immaturity. I received some feedback during that process, but I was never confident enough to send the finished product out ahead of time to see what people thought. While I'm proud of the book, I know it would've been better if other folks had looked at it before publication.

I self published that book, and I may do the same with my memoir. I'd like to find a publisher, but no matter which way I go, I want the memoir to be the best possible book it can be. I've already received some helpful feedback, and at least one person has read the entire manuscript. I'm anxious to read the comments he emailed.

In the meantime, I'm working on two short stories in a planned series about growing up in Simsbury, Connecticut. I plan to submit one of the stories to my buddy Jim Corrigan, who's soliciting stories for his second anthology. He recently self published the first one, Movable Feasts, which includes one of my stories.

I'm also moving forward with my children's book. As I write this, Staples is salivating over the order I placed online today to get five copies of a mock-up of the book. Once those are in hand, I'll schedule a meeting with the folks at Ward Maps, who are the official licensing agent for the MBTA. For those who don't know, my book is about riding the MBTA's Green Line in Boston. If the book gets accepted, I plan to write at least three other books in that series.

The picture at the top of this entry is one I took with my first camera on a family trip in 1977. I was 12 years old, and loved boogie vans. I shot that beauty in Salt Lake City. I plan to include that photo in my book, along with others such as the van I traveled in, shots of myself and some of the guys I traveled with, and pictures of me before the trip, when I was fat and had a beard.

I hadn't thought much about including photos in the memoir, because I had none from the trip. I'd brought a camera and shot two rolls of film, but when I went to get them developed, I was told they were blank. That was the same camera I'd used to take the van photo up there, I believe. I threw the camera away in disgust.

But upon reading Satan Is Real, the autobiography by Charlie Louvin, and seeing the pictures he included, I realized I could insert pictures into my book that, while they weren't from the trip (with the exception of one or two taken by somebody else), would contribute to the overall product.

Stay tuned for more about the memoir, as I'll know more about how much more work I have to do once I get more feedback.

In the meantime, please to enjoy Fu Manchu:

Rock and Writing

This is Tales From the House Band, Volume 2. It is an anthology featuring 15 short stories at least tangentially related to music. One of the stories from my collection, (C)rock Stories: Million-Dollar Tales of Music, Mayhem and Immaturity, is included in this new book. I hope you'll consider buying it and telling your friends and neighbors about it and suggesting that, "Hey, you know, you really don't have enough Dave Brigham in your library."

The book came out without much fanfare back in early December. For some reason, the publisher, Plus One Press, doesn't feature the book on its web site. Nevertheless, it's available online and at brick-and-mortar stores if you ask nicely for them to order it.

I self-published (C)rock Stories more than two years ago, but felt OK contributing one of those stories to Tales From the House Band #2. I'm not sure if Plus One is planning a third installment in the series. If so, I would consider joining in again, if they'll have me (my story, "Three Times a Lady Sniff," is by far the most vulgar story in the book, although, in my mind, also the closest to reality).

If I'm asked, I would write a new story.

I've got a lot on my plate right now, with my memoir, a planned children's book series and my long-on-the-back-burner novel. But I'm excited to write a new story about music, even though I don't have any ideas for one right now.

By the way, I've got a reading planned next month in Portsmouth, NH, at River Run Bookstore. Thanks to my buddy Peter for setting that up. Unlike the reading from Tales that I did in Arlington, Mass., last month, this time I'll be on my own. Which means I'll probably torment attendees with my full story about the trials and tribulations of following the Butthole Surfers on the road.

Hope you can make it.

(C)rock Redux

Today I received a small advance from Plus One Press, which will be publishing one of my short stories in the soon-to-be-available Tales From the House Band, Volume 2. The anthology features stories from numerous genres, with wildly varying themes, but all of them focused on music in one way or another.

I forget how I found out about Plus One's first volume of the series. But as soon as I did, I zipped an email to the publisher asking if there was room for me in the next volume. She said yes, so I sent her one of the stories from my first book, (C)rock Stories: Million-Dollar Tales of Music, Mayhem and Immaturity, for her consideration. She agreed to publish it, which naturally made me very happy.

I didn't have to write a new story, which was a plus. There was some back-and-forth editing between the publisher, a third party and me. But in the end I think my story -- "Three Times a Lady Sniff," about following the Butthole Surfers -- is better.

Subsequently, I did a little research into the first volume. Plus One is a small publisher that issues books by the owner, Deborah Grabien, and other authors. The only reviews I could find online of the first volume were written either by authors who had stories in the anthology, or their relatives.

Still, the possibility of getting one of my stories published alongside those of other writers is a great opportunity. As with a compilation album (do they make those any more?), a short story anthology gives artists the chance to get themselves in front of people who might never have come across their work otherwise. So obviously I'm hoping those who buy the second volume might at some point buy my book as well.

Stay tuned for news about the publication date.

The Struggle

Like all writers, I struggle. And of course I wage those battles alone. I can't blame my boss or coworkers if I don't like an idea. And if I forget what a character did or said 20 pages earlier, I can't digitize an intern and send him into my laptop to figure it out.

And when reading works that go back years, even decades, I have no one but myself to blame for shoddy workmanship and blatant stylistic rip-offs. I was reminded of this when I recently stumbled across a copy of Frog Spit, a 'zine I published back in the '80s.

I wrote two stream-of-consciousness stories that were such obvious efforts to emulate Hunter S. Thompson (R.I.P.) that I found it embarrassing. And I was the only one in the room.

I do a lot of writing these days, between this blog and my other one (The Backside of America), and various book projects that I'll describe below. While none of my writing is perfect, I think that I've honed my craft in recent years simply by doing more work.

I also managed to refine my writing during my time at the late, great Webnoize (R.I.P.), and while writing my first book, which I published nearly two years ago.

I spent 10 years writing, rewriting, editing and self-publishing that book, (C)rock Stories: Million-Dollar Tales of Music, Mayhem and Immaturity. Sure, there were long periods where I ignored the stories, but I put a lot of work into the book.

I have a hard time editing on a computer, so I printed out the stories and went through them with a red pen, deleting, copy editing, writing new chunks of plot or character development.

Because the stories were related, and featured recurring characters, I needed to keep straight in my head who had done what, in order to make sure there was continuity. I had a hard time with this, and realized near the end of the process that I should have used two or three pairs of eyes to review and edit the book.

But I was reluctant to ask friends or family, because I wasn't confident in the stories and my abilities, and thought that if these reviewers questioned things too much I'd crumble and never finish the book. So I kept all the responsibility to myself, which wasn't smart.

I was happy with the published version of the book, but know that it could have been better if I'd been willing to put myself out there and let people judge it and critique it.

I learned my lesson, and since trying over the past few years to enter the children's book market, I've allowed friends and family to see drafts of stories. I haven't published a book yet, but I'm working with an illustrator on my latest, and feel confident that the book will hit the market eventually.

I'm excited about children's books. If my illustrator and I can get the first one published, I have a series planned. The books are very basic, but would fill a niche that I believe is under-served: easy, fun-to-read stories about subways.

While children's books and short story collections are obviously not easy to write, I find them much easier to do than novels.

I've begun three or four novels, but haven't finished one. The first was about a group of college friends going away for a weekend together, and that's about all I remember. Another effort surrounded a college band, based very heavily on my own such group.

My latest effort, which I began during National Novel Writing Month nearly five years ago, was about UFO's, road trips, government conspiracies, anti-corporate action and, of course, love.

I had a grand vision to write the novel and sell it packaged with a concept album that had actually spurred the novel. I haven't gotten very far on either account, and have come to realize in recent years that I may just not be a novelist.

I'm not giving up, so much as realizing that my brain just doesn't operate the way it needs to in order to keep track of all that goes into a novel: great character development, plot twists, strong descriptive language, recurring themes that move the story forward, and so much more.

I write best with a strong framework. I thought I'd established such a thing with my last attempt at writing a novel. Unlike with previous attempts, I'd made an outline based on the concept album.

But once I started writing, I just took the story off in all sorts of unexpected directions, which is OK, but I had a hard time reeling it all back in and pounding it into shape.

For now, I don't need to trouble myself with thoughts about writing the Great American Novel.

I continue to plug away on my road trip memoir, which I've mentioned before (see May 25, 2012, "Inspiration"). The linear narrative of the book is done, and I've got a plan for filling in details by getting in touch with the guys with whom I traveled.

There are other elements I'm adding, however, that need work. I write a lot about my childhood, and my life since the trip, especially the more recent years since my kids were born.

But all that information exists, so I know I can coax it out of my brain and onto the page. And I realize that I'll need people to read the book ahead of time and guide me to making it the best possible book it can be.

I just hope that in 10 years I don't look back on my books and think that they're total crap.