POP MUSIC : Go Ahead, Make Her Day : Compare her to Chrissie Hynde or Liz Phair and just watch the sparks fly. Jennifer Trynin, rocker and late bloomer, would be much happier if you mentioned Keith Richards.

If Jennifer Trynin becomes a rock star, her story could make a charming movie.

The plot: A nice Jewish girl from New Jersey graduates from college with degrees in creative writing and philosophy and moves to Boston. Following the advice of a grandmother named Sadie, she pursues a career in journalism.

Her heart is still in music, though, so she soon finds herself leading a double life, doing free-lance ghostwriting and editing by day, then performing songs she’s written herself at nightclubs. While playing in 1990, she meets a nice young record producer named Mike Denneen--a Yale graduate, yet--and they begin work together on a new album.

About four years later, Trynin finally releases an 11-song collection titled “Cockamamie” on her own label, Squint Records, which she runs from home via an answering machine and a P.O. box. She and Denneen get a few tapes circulated, drawing on contacts that he’s cultivated producing such artists as Aimee Mann and Letters to Cleo.

By early this year, major record companies are all racing after our 31-year-old heroine. Trynin finally signs with the folks at Warner Bros., who release “Cockamamie” just as it was originally mastered. MTV starts playing the video for Trynin’s first single, “Better Than Nothing,” while critics praise her smart, acerbic writing and gritty guitar playing.

In the film, of course, Trynin would probably go on to become a pop icon for the next millennium and be able to buy Sadie a luxury condo in Florida. But in real life, the singer is still trying to make sense of all that’s happened so far.

Sitting at the bar of an Indian restaurant in Manhattan, where she’s visiting her dad during a few days’ break from touring, the lanky, amiable singer sips beer, munches peanuts and reflects on her success story-in-progress with amusement and wonder.

“I had heard that this kind of thing happened,” says Trynin, who will be at the Roxy on Aug. 28. “But I didn’t believe it until it happened to me. I don’t even know why I started writing songs to begin with. From the second I picked up a guitar, I’ve just been doing it.

“I was never an avid music listener when I was young. I mean, I’d hear the music my brother would play. And I had a few tapes--Joni Mitchell and Loudon Wainwright and Crosby, Stills & Nash. But I didn’t own a turntable, and I would mostly listen to whatever was on Top 40 radio.”

Encouraged by schoolteachers who thought she was talented, Trynin began playing guitar in the fifth grade in the small New Jersey town where she lived until she was 17. Her parents’ tastes ran more toward Mozart and show tunes than the classic rock her older brother, Tommy, would blast in his bedroom. So, the fledgling singer-songwriter was pretty much left to her own devices in learning her chosen instrument, as well as piano, which she took up later.

“I tried to take music lessons,” she says. “But I was too lazy. I never practiced. Instead of doing my lesson, I’d bring in a song that I’d written. So by the time the lesson was over, the teacher would forget what it was that I’d been assigned and hadn’t done.”

Trynin is hard-pressed to describe what sort of life experience has informed her writing. As song titles like “Too Bad You’re Such a Loser” and “Do It Alone” suggest, her lyrics take a tough, painfully honest look at relationships. Trynin’s dry sense of humor generally keeps her from wallowing in cynicism, but even so, one pundit judged that the ditties on her album “make . . . Bergman’s ‘Scenes From a Marriage’ seem like a madcap romp.”

“The kind of stuff I’m cynical about is stuff I haven’t even begun to write about yet,” Trynin insists. “People think that all the songs on this album are about emotions that came to me through relationships with people, and that’s not the case. It’s not like these songs are about, like, my boyfriend. Very few of them are about any specific person.

“I might think, ‘Gee, I’ll write a song about wanting to be accepted by a certain segment of society.’ But that doesn’t sound very interesting, so it gets turned into a love song about acceptance. That’s why I write a lot about clashes between two people--because I think everything is contained in that.”

A recent issue of Rolling Stone compared Trynin’s work to that of Liz Phair, Chrissie Hynde and her old favorite, Joni Mitchell.

“I find that kind of baffling,” Trynin confesses. “It’s ‘cause we’re all women, I guess. A couple of people have compared me to Keith Richards, and that means more to me in a way, because it means they’re really thinking and listening to the guitar playing and not being so gender-specific.”

Despite her admiration for Mitchell, Trynin stresses that she doesn’t consider herself a confessional artist.

“I have no interest in autobiographical blah,” she says. “Nobody should care about my personal life, anyway--it’s not particularly interesting, and it’s my business. I think when I was younger, I did aspire to be more of a confessional writer. But back then, I was, like, life is so baffling!” Trynin gestures melodramatically. “I kept diaries and all that stuff. I’m not like that anymore.”

Along those lines, the singer doesn’t regret the fact that she’s getting a relatively late start on her career in the public eye.

“I’m not trying to put down anyone in their late teens or early 20s,” she says. “But speaking for myself, I was an idiot at that age. When I think back to the things I thought and said then, I’m embarrassed. I was confused. I felt that boyfriends and relationships were manageable. Then I got a little older and got into one of those crazy things that some people call falling in love. I called it that too, at the time.

“I’m still trying to figure that stuff out and to understand my current relationships. Not just with my boyfriend but with my parents, for instance. You know, Shakespeare understood what was going on. There’s your family, who are people that you’re never supposed to have sex with, and then there are all the other people that you’re allowed to have sex with--except that it can really screw you up. That’s what it comes down to.”

Her ability to mix sagacity with sass may explain in part why Trynin’s work has been touted as a mature alternative to the Generation X ennui being served up by some artists a few years her junior.

“I feel no connection with what people call ‘slackers,’ ” Trynin says. “To me, those are just young people who still don’t have their [lives] together and are feeling really sorry for themselves. I was that person once, but I didn’t feel there was any esteem associated with being like that.

“The attitude with kids now is like, ‘Oh, man, I can’t get a job, and my father doesn’t love me enough--wah wah wah.’ Hey, life is rough, you know? My parents got divorced when I was very young, and that really haunted me, and still does. But, unfortunately, that happens in our society. People get divorced, and they get laid off at work. You have to deal with it.

“I say this to myself too, because I’m a whiner of the first degree,” Trynin says with a laugh. “It doesn’t come out in my music, I hope. But the kind of whining I do now is more about little everyday things. Like, ‘These peanuts aren’t fresh!’ Or, ‘I have to get up too early!’ ”

Trynin has no complaints about the commercial progress she’s made since Warner Bros. released her album and single (album sales, a modest 25,000).

“I like the fact that ‘Better Than Nothing’ is doing well but not gangbusters,” she says. “I’m kind of in there but not to the extent where people are saying, ‘Oh, that song is on again--I hate that song!’ Because that’s how you get--that’s how I get--when songs are played and played and played to death.”

Will Botwin, president of Side One Management, the company that represents Trynin, says he’s in no rush to push the singer to the top of the pop charts.

“Jen doesn’t have to explode overnight,” he says. “She’s a great songwriter, and she’s made an album with a lot of depth. It’s growing from week to week, getting more airplay on alternative stations. I don’t think we want to be too big too fast. Warner Bros. has been great about not just going for the home run. They’ve been really patient and thoughtful in their approach.”

Trynin agrees: “I talked with [the people at Warner Bros.] a lot. I told them to please just put the record out, and don’t go around telling everybody how great it is. Whether I sink or swim is up to me.”

Given her distaste for hype and her craving for privacy, it doesn’t seem likely that Trynin would ever want to have a film based on her life story. Which poses the question: Is there a limit to the amount of fame and success she’d feel comfortable with?

“I don’t understand all of this well enough yet to answer that question,” Trynin admits, smiling. “I guess that if I could make a really, really good living and be totally satisfied artistically, and still never be recognized in public, that would be my first choice.

“But it doesn’t work that way, does it? You pay a price for whatever happens in your life. We all know about the prices we’ve paid for the things we’ve wanted.”