'It took me a really long time to cross over a certain bridge'
She came. She rocked. She signed a multimillion dollar record deal and flopped. After a surreal lap on the major-label merry-go-round, Boston author/musician Jen Trynin did what any self-respecting English major would do in the woozy aftermath of near-stardom: She enrolled in creative writing class at Harvard Extension School and wrote a book about it, ''Everything I'm Cracked Up to Be: A Rock & Roll Fairy Tale." Trynin -- who lives in Watertown with her husband, record producer Mike Denneen, and their 3-year-old daughter -- kicks off a book tour at the Attic in Newton on Friday, as part of the Newtonville Books' author series. Following are excerpts from a recent conversation.
Q: It sounds like you barely escaped the music business with your sanity and self-respect intact. Why did you want to write a book about it?
A: People kept asking me why I don't do music anymore, so I answered. They usually think I quit because I failed. That's a very simple explanation. If I say the sound of my pick hitting my guitar made me sad, that's part of it, too. I still don't really know the answer to the question. It wasn't for me.
Q: Did you feel compelled to set the record straight?
A: I wanted to tell the stories, in some way, to my parents. They didn't ever understand. And to my friends and anyone close to me. I was tongue-tied.
Q: You name some people and give pseudonyms to others.
A: Anyone famous enough to have been heard of, like David Geffen, got the real name. If somebody was just a somebody that you or I might know, I gave them pseudonyms to protect a modicum of their privacy. During the bidding war there are, like, 2 million people that you only see two times, so I would give them a first impression name. Like Head Honcho, who was the general manager of Warner Bros. at the time. As a reader, you're going to remember Head Honcho better than Jeff.
Q: Have you heard from industry types who made it into the book?
A: Most people who are in it who have read it think it's funny. I certainly didn't mean to make anyone look bad. I think I look worse than anybody. I mean, there are a few people who might have a problem with it.
Q: Who?
A: As my daughter says, ''Nononononono."
Q: All the stars seemed to align for you in the music business: the bidding war, the big-budget album, great reviews. What went wrong?
A: I think it was awful luck. My album was released the same day as Alanis Morissette's. I'm reasonably talented, but I got pitted against somebody phenomenal. I didn't even know who it was when I heard ''You Oughta Know," but I knew it would cut through the stratosphere.
Q: How typical do you think your experience was?
A: There was definitely bidding-war fever around that time. But I would say it's much more usual that bands and artists get signed for no money and low points and no freedom and seven records and then they make their first record and the label thinks it sucks, won't put it out, won't let them out of their contract, and they're screwed for years. I was really lucky. Warner Bros. didn't know how to market me, but they treated me with respect.
Q: Are you playing music now?
A: Unfortunately Loveless [the alt-rock band Trynin went on to play guitar in] ended a year ago, so I'm not right now. Although I'm toying with the idea of playing a couple of songs at my readings. One of the weirdest things is, my whole point in the book is I never thought I was as good as the whole situation was making me out to be. Now what's happening is people are coming up to me and saying ''I love your music! Will you play on our radio show?" I'm like, ''What are you talking about? I don't play music anymore. I'm old and I have a bad back." It's odd. I'm a little twisted up about it.
Q: These are dicey days for memoirists, thanks to James Frey and JT LeRoy. Is the Smoking Gun going to someday reveal that you turned 10 minutes with a low-level publicist into a six-month courtship with Head Honcho?
A: I spent a lot of time thinking about this way before James Frey. This did happen. Did I use composites? Yes, especially if the same thing kept happening over and over. Could I hunt down one guy? No. Could I hunt down 50 of him? Yes. Can somebody sue me? Any time. But I'm not nervous. I went through everything with two lawyers.
Q: Do you miss anything about those days?
A: Yeah. God, yes. I miss my youth. It took me a really long time to cross over a certain bridge I've crossed. I love my life, but there's something about not having yet walked into the fire, so that you're still attracted to the fire. Now I'm burned and life goes on. I mean, it was such an exciting experience. Whether what people thought of me was accurate or not, I've felt what it's like to have somebody look at you in the best possible light. For one split second your inner meter maxes out. I'll never have that again, but I was lucky to experience something so mind-blowing.
Joan Anderman can be reached at anderman@globe.com. 
