Who manages whom?

I’ll be distracted from the blog this month, as I was last October. In 2020, I spent the month working on a short story for a possible anthology. That anthology didn’t materialize, but I’m glad I wrote the story. It was a chance to try out a new genre, which engaged my creative energy, and it was also cathartic. I shed a lot of tears writing it. I may revise it and make it available as a 99-cent e-story at some point. Or maybe I’ll see if there are any calls for submission with guidelines it meets for other collections.

I also had something that brought me great amusement last October, when Tom found me a plastic skeleton. His name is Lord Cuttlebone, and I let him take over my Instagram account once a day that month in various settings and situations at Houndstooth Hall. Since I featured my Muse here on the blog in September, which was an emotional roller coaster, I decided to let Cuttlebone out of the closet, and again feature him in daily Instagram posts this Halloween month to make me (and hopefully others) laugh.

Today I went looking for a photo prop at my favorite antique mall while I was running errands. I didn’t find what I wanted, but I did make one good find: an album to replace this one I lost in Harvey.

Brian Wilson’s self-titled solo album, released in 1988 (11 years after brother Dennis released his)

I’m not a music critic and even if I were, I’d be like many who discuss Brian’s work with unapologetic bias. I remain intrigued by the history of the band and its members; there’s so much story there, and its reality hits every note.

What’s particularly interesting about this album is that I have a press kit put out by Sire Records to promote its release. Because current day is three decades later, and so many things that went down during the Eighties are better-known now, it fascinates me to see how information was spun for the album’s release.

This was the period when Brian’s therapist (Eugene Landy) had been re-hired and was over-managing his life, had insinuated himself into his music, and became executive producer of this album. Many articles and nonfiction books cover all this. Landy was ultimately fired and sued. His license to practice was revoked in California, but he could still practice in other states. A restraining order kept him permanently away from Brian.

A version of this story is shown in the film Love and Mercy, though one never knows, just like with this upbeat, optimistic press packet, how accurate it is.

It’s more gratifying to write outright fiction; however, I think Landy had a lot more control over Brian than I have over my musician. Right now, he’s angry in his chapter and needs me to write him into a happier place.

Skeletons and artists can be very demanding.

Photos from the Brian Wilson press kit for journalists and reviewers to use.