NaNoWriMo Revisited

Five years ago I took part in National Novel Writing Month. Known as NaNoWriMo, the endeavor challenges folks to write a 50,000-word novel between 12:01 a.m. on November 1st and 11:59 p.m. on November 30th each year.

Encouraged by my buddy Jay, I decided to devote as much time as possible to this adventure. I did so knowing I wouldn't get enough sleep, as my daughter was just four months old and was waking up regularly during the night for feedings. Regardless, I wrote until midnight on many of those November nights.

Because I was constantly tired, naturally I became grouchy during the days and evenings, which, believe me, didn't go unnoticed by my wife.

Still, I managed to crank out roughly 26,000 words over those 30 days. I'd made an outline of my proposed novel ahead of time in order to make the process go more smoothly. I decided to turn the UFO/alien abduction concept album I'd been working on into a book, with the grand idea that at some point I'd release both works of art as an incredible multimedia extravaganza.

I was proud of myself for being so resourceful and for preparing in advance. In years past I'd tried two or three times to write novels, but after wading in quite a distance, I found myself over my head with no idea how to swim back to shore. So those novels died.

And so did my NaNoWriMo effort after that 30-day burst of activity. Sure, I looked at it a number of times in the ensuing months, and tweaked it a bit here and there. But even working from an outline didn't make the process much easier.

Because the object of NaNoWriMo is to crank through and produce as many words as you can and worry about what it all says later, I ended up going off on all sorts of tangents, and not sticking to my outline.

I forgot about the novel (well, not entirely; it's always in the back of my head) and spent time working on my short story collection. I self-published that in December 2010 (buy it here -- the holidays are coming!). After that, I kicked around some children's book ideas. I've developed a concept that I like, and am working with an illustrator, so with any luck I'll crack that market in the near future.

Also, in April of this year I started working on a memoir. I've made great progress on this book, and am nearly ready to send it out to some folks to gather opinions and critical feedback.

So it sounds like my literary plate is full, right? But last weekend at a PTO function I met a woman who's a published novelist, and she mentioned the idea of forming a writer's group with a few other people she'd met that night. One of these guys is somebody with whom I've already spent considerable time discussing our respective books.

These other writers are working on novels, but I think they'd be OK with discussing my memoir in a group. Still, I thought I'd like to at some point be able to bring fiction into the mix.

I thought about starting a new short story collection, but found that prospect too daunting. Then I did what I knew I had to do: I committed myself to returning to my novel, despite the fact that on this very blog I recently announced that my brain just doesn't work the way a novelist's brain should work (see October 2, 2012, "The Struggle.").

I returned to the manuscript this week and started making notes about what needs to change, what needs to get thrown out, who the characters are and how I'm going to move the story forward and not give up like I have in the past.

I may ditch the story again. I may take 10 years to finish, just as I did with my short story collection. But I'm determined, one way or the other, to write a novel.

I'll keep you updated, but don't hold your breath.

You Didn't Build This, FLlW Did

After several months, I finally finished Meryle Secrest's Frank Lloyd Wright: A Biography, a dense, well-researched, mostly engaging 564-page doorstop of a book.

I put the book on my wish list after reading T.C. Boyle's The Women, a fictional account of the world-famous architect's tangled web of romantic relationships. Boyle's a gifted writer, and I've read and enjoyed many of his books, but while I was reading The Women, I found myself wanting to read a biography, wondering, "How true to life is this stuff? Were Wright and his wives and mistresses really as crazy as Boyle makes them out to be?"

Turns out, they were.

I'm not going to write a review of the book, because it's too damn long and I'm not a real strong critical writer. But I want to talk about a few things that I learned about Wright (who often signed his name "FLlW"), and discuss some of his amazing buildings, a few of which I hope to visit in my lifetime.

Wright was a complete and total narcissist, arrogant and too quick to judge and fight back against any perceived slight. He was absolutely terrible with money, often refusing to pay everyone from local grocers to building supply companies, and other times insisting that he be given things such as cars simply because he was famous, and the retailer would gain more value from being associated with him than they could if he paid them.

He fell easily for those who flattered him. It was not difficult, especially if you were a woman, to manipulate him.

Wright insisted that nobody had influenced his use of open floor plans, cantilevered roofs and non-traditional materials in the houses he designed, despite plenty of evidence to the contrary.

Many of his buildings, especially houses, suffered from leaky roofs, drafty windows and poor heating and cooling systems.

Still, there's no denying Wright's incredible vision, and his tenacity in getting projects done the way he wanted. He is one of the most well-known architects in the world, alongside I.M. Pei, Mies van der Rohe, Le Corbusier and Frank Gehry.

Many of his most fantastic projects were never built, such as Washington, D.C.'s Crystal Heights apartment, hotel and shopping complex, and of those that were, many have either been torn down, or destroyed by fire or natural disasters.

Just last month, a house that FLlW designed for one of his sons in Phoenix was saved from the wrecking ball.

But, thankfully, so many great houses, office buildings and museums that he designed still stand.

I've been to New York City with my family each of the last three Aprils, but somehow have never made it to Wright's Guggenheim Museum. The next time I go to the Big Apple, I'm definitely checking out the museum.

Taliesin West, Wright's second home, is located in Arizona. I haven't been to the Southwest since my brief time living in New Mexico in 1988. It's time for a return, with the family.

Wright's primary residence for decades was Taliesin, in Spring Green, Wisconsin. This building fascinates me for its architecture, of course, but also because the home was the place where Wright spent much of his adult life, where he designed so many projects, where he mentored architects and others in the building trades, and where tragedy visited his family on too many occasions (fires, murders).

Finally, I have to visit Fallingwater, the amazing house that Wright built over a river in western Pennsylvania. Just take a look at the video above, and at the pictures at the house's web site and you'll understand why I want to go.

YES!!

Congratulations, President Obama!

Now go ahead and sing us out, Homer.

(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.

Sell! Sell! Sell!

I've been thinking for a while about trying to make some money off all the pictures I've taken over the last few years. I'm not fooling myself; I know I'm not a great photographer, but I think I've got a few images that would look cool on certain products.

So I've begun building up my product line at Zazzle. For the past two years I've been selling 30 different t-shirts associated with my first book, (C)rock Stories: Million Dollar Tales of Music, Mayhem and Immaturity. I bought one and awarded one or two others as prizes while promoting the book, but until recently hadn't sold any.

Out of the blue two weeks ago Zazzle sent me an email letting me know that I'd sold three shirts. I have no idea who bought them, but it put the idea back into my head that I should sell other stuff.

I'd uploaded some images a while ago but let them linger without doing anything. So today I started matching images to products. The process is very easy, but finding the right picture to go with the right product takes a bit of time.

The first one I made was a note card featuring a picture I'd taken on Cape Cod two years ago:

You can see it here.

The next one I did was a coaster featuring a shot of my electric blue guitar and amplifier. Check it out.

I've got no shortage of images to select from, but I have to be careful not to upload pictures with potential copyright issues. I tried to post one of an MBTA subway station, but it got bounced.

For now I'm just testing things out, but in the near future I'll add more images to more products, and see what works and what doesn't.

Now, for your viewing pleasure, the Butthole Surfers.

L-O-L-A

Ray Davies based the transvestite in The Kinks' song "Lola" on a black cross-dresser whom his band's manager danced with one night in a drunken stupor. It's quite possible that Davies used the name Lola in tribute to the woman who also inspired Barry Manilow in his song, "Copacabana."

Lola Falana.

If you're under 40, there's a good chance you've never heard of her. I can't say I know a lot about her, but I remember her popping up on TV here and there during my childhood. And I could never forget her name, with its poetic sexiness.

She started dancing professionally after dropping out of high school, and was discovered by the immortal Sammy Davis Jr. Sammy cast Falana (who just turned 70 last month) in Broadway musicals and films, and brought her along on tour as a backup singer and dancer through the '60s.

She also recorded albums, posed for Playboy and in the late '70s became the toast of Las Vegas doing shows 20 weeks a year.

She appeared on talk shows and variety shows, including "The New Bill Cosby Show," during the '70s, which is when I caught on to her. Her name also popped up on "Sanford & Son" on a regular basis, as Fred pined for her.

You can see why, in this clip from Sha Na Na's variety show:

Her name pops into my head at random times, and in an unfinished novel I started five years ago, one of the characters used her name as an epithet of sorts, crying out "Lola Falana!" when something went wrong.

I also used "Rula Lenska!" as an epithet in the book, based solely on this commercial from my youth:

Anyway, back to Ms. Falana, who unfortunately suffers from multiple sclerosis. A particularly bad relapse in the late '80s kept her out of the public eye for quite some time, according to Wikipedia. She spent a lot of that time praying, evidently, and since that time has turned away from her previous life and spends time working with her ministry.

In this video from 2009, she talks about her career and her spirituality:

One more thing: she was also incredibly popular in Italy during her heyday. She starred in Italian movies, learned the language, and was celebrated on TV shows. Here's a great '70s clip:

About My Lips

Regular readers know I love music, and that the Flaming Lips are my favorite band. "But how did that come about?" you ask. Well, I'm gonna tell you.

I'm a long-time subscriber to SPIN magazine, so long in fact that they actually pay me to read the thing, and every year on my birthday they throw me a giant party complete with food, beer, live music and a 12-month supply of Geritol.

I've stuck with the magazine through their new wave years, punk rock years, hip-hop years, indie rock years, the years where they wrote A LOT about AIDS, the years when they almost went out of business, the years when they've changed their look and format, desperately hoping to make it all work.

During the summer of 1988, after I'd returned from my four-month road trip from Connecticut to New Mexico and back, I read an issue of SPIN in which they mentioned a band called the Flaming Lips.

I don't recall specifics about the short article, but the writer must have mentioned psychedelia, punk rock, weirdness and possibly even Oklahoma. Something about the piece, and the band's name, struck a chord in my brain and I decided to buy one of their albums (read: cassette tapes).

In 1987, the band had released Oh My Gawd!!!...The Flaming Lips. By the time I learned about the band, I'd moved to Dover, NH, with my buddy and fellow road-tripper Pete, and his friend Joe. I went to a record store in Portsmouth and bought the tape. The band's only other album at that time was their first, Hear It Is, which I subsequently bought, along with almost everything they've produced.

Oh My Gawd!!! was unlike anything I'd ever heard, because I was never into the Beatles or '60s psychedelic rock. The only psychedelic band I liked was the Butthole Surfers. My friend Ric, who I met when we worked at Webnoize together back in the Mesozoic Era, was baffled that I wasn't a Beatles fan, but that I seemed to have pretty good taste in music. Blame it on my older brother and sister, I said.

Until I started researching and writing this post, I didn't know that the spoken-word sample that starts the first track on Oh My Gawd!!! ("Take this brother, may it serve you well.") was from the Beatles' "Revolution 9." The final track, "Love Yer Brain," ends with a looped sample of "turn off your mind, relax" from the Beatles' "Tomorrow Never Knows." To my credit, I did recognize that sample.

The first track on Oh My Gawd!!! is "Everthing's Explodin'," which comes out roaring and never relents:

I was hooked. I remember listening to the song in my apartment, perhaps during a small party, and this girl who was dating one of the cool guys in town, a guy was in a band I liked called The Dorks, asked me, "How do you dance to this band?" She was used to slamming, I guess, and probably New Wave dancing.

I promptly demonstrated by doing some really awkward, goofy, herky-jerky moves around the living room. She was puzzled, but found it humorous.

The second song, "One Million Billionth of a Millisecond on a Sunday Morning," is far more epic. Building slowly with mellow guitars, light drumming and gently sung lyrics, the song clocks in at nine and a half minutes. This one is great with headphones. If you smoke pot, this is the time where you spark up.

The rest of the songs follow the pattern of odd samples, spoken word parts, raging psychedelia, ripsnortin' punk rock. And there are parts where the music is played backwards, yet another obvious tip of the hat to the Beatles.

Another of my favorite tracks is "Can't Stop the Spring":

As much as I loved the music, I was also into the lyrics, written and sung by Wayne Coyne, the band's co-founder and lead weirdo. On "Ode to C.C. Pt. 2," Coyne, over a simple acoustic guitar riff, sings:

This man came up to me, just the other day / asked me if I'd been born again

I told him I didn't think I had

That I had been rejected

But I think

Hell's got all the good bands, anyway

The album's closer, "Love Yer Brain," is another epic. It starts out with Wayne singing in his lovably scratchy voice over simple piano chords. About a minute and a half in, the drums kick in but the pace is still slow.

The final two and half minutes of the song are comprised of the sounds of the band smashing things and throwing things around, yelling a bit, and then the aforementioned Beatles sample comes in and things quiet down, with just a few random voices and things being slapped around.

Over the past 24 years, I've bought just about everything the band has put out. Most of it I love, especially the more hard-rockin' psychedelic punk rock from the first 10 years of their career.

There have been points in recent years where I've questioned what the Lips are doing initially, such as The Soft Bulletin, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots and At War with the Mystics, but for the most part I came around on those albums after several listenings.

As for the more recent Embryonic, I haven't gotten into it that much. And I didn't bother to buy the band's collaboration with Stardeath and White Dwarfs with Henry Rollins doing Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon.

As for their most recent album, The Flaming Lips and Heady Fwends, on which the band and guests including Erykah Badu, Kesha, Lightning Bolt and Prefuse 73 do both covers and originals, well I guess I should at least give it a listen.

I've seen the band live five times. The first time was in 1992 at a small club called TT the Bear's Place in Cambridge, Mass. The band filled the place with their smoke machine while they sawed away at songs from their most recent album at the time, Hit to Death In the Future Head, as well as the above-mentioned albums, and Telepathic Surgery.

I saw them a few years later at an outdoor venue in Gardner, Mass., during the day. The played on a bill with the Stone Temple Pilots (boo!) and the Butthole Surfers (yay!). Great show.

In more recent years, the Lips have toured regularly with quite a bombastic, colorful and wildly entertaining show. Here's a sample:

I've seen them do this schtick three times. And while I love it and always have a great time at these shows, I'm ready for them to move on and show me something different.

The band has sometimes confounded me (Zaireeka, which consists of four CD's designed to be played at the same time), and other times disappointed me (scattered tracks across their discography), but they've always given me hope that whatever they do will be adventurous, fun, challenging and, ultimately, uplifting.

I'm not sure what the Lips have in store for the future, but I'm sure it will make me say, "Oh my gawd!!!"