{"id":4171,"date":"2015-09-23T21:31:23","date_gmt":"2015-09-23T21:31:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/?p=4171"},"modified":"2015-10-13T07:05:54","modified_gmt":"2015-10-13T07:05:54","slug":"girls-with-guitars-the-truth-the-town-sluts-daughter-excerpts-and-talk","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/?p=4171","title":{"rendered":"Girls With Guitars & *The Truth*-Town Slut’s Daughter excerpts and talk…"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u2026I\u2019m preparing for Word Vancouver,<\/a> Sun, Sept 27 at 1:30 at Library Square and SFU’s Early Punk Rock Scene Discussion<\/a>, with Bloodied But Unbowed<\/em> director, Susanne Tabata<\/a>, Oct 13 at Special Collections, SFU Library in Burnaby<\/p>\n

\"228333_7755087037_1214_n\"<\/a>
bev davies photo<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u00a0FREE TO IMAGINE (Redux)<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong>\u201cHonesty is not synonymous with truth.\u201d-Vera Parmiga, The Departed<\/p>\n

This book took a long time to write and the road to publication, arduous. I can\u2019t recall exactly when I started but my son was around 6 or 7 and he is now 20. If I hadn\u2019t been homeschooling a child with special needs, no doubt it would have taken less time but I often got discouraged and shelved it for years at a time. Finally in 2010 I went to Sage Hill Writing Experience<\/a> to be mentored by award winning playwright and novelist Terry Jordan<\/a>. I completed the manuscript. Then spent a couple of years, or wasted a couple of years, dealing with an agent who seemed to think the story was YA, and a publishing company in utter tumult until finally I got fed up and in punk fashion, went DIY. In feminist fashion, I will not be denied, set up Howe Sound Publishing <\/a>and released The Town Slut’s Daughter<\/a><\/em> on Amazon.<\/p>\n

Seems to be a dirty word these days but this dialogue is an example of some of the book’s feminist ideals:<\/p>\n

Fiona threw down three tickets to the St. Valentine\u2019s Day Massacre emblazoned with Hit Someone You Love<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cGreat!\u201d said Rita. \u201cWhat\u2019s with all the misogyny? I thought the scene was supposed to be so egalitarian.\u201d She grabbed the kettle. \u201cWell, I suppose it is if you happen to be young, white and male.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe we shouldn\u2019t go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe we shouldn\u2019t. Who is Transformer Productions, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. Never heard of them. But it\u2019s a great bill. Rabid, Pointed Sticks, SubHumans, K-Tels.\u201d Angus was a hero for digging up a new venue, O\u2019Hara\u2019s, a derelict nightclub on the pier at the foot of Main. Fiona\u2019s dad remembered it from when he was a young buck roaming the streets. \u201cI wanna go. We gotta see the K-Tels.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. Okay. We\u2019re doing our bit to fight sexism, right? We play electric guitars.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rock-including punk rock- is a boys club.<\/p>\n

A lot of the discussion around my book concerns whether it\u2019s autobiographical or not, <\/strong>which I find irritating. Isn\u2019t that inferring that I\u2019m not capable of using my imagination? To invent? Well, writing is vexing on many levels but I don\u2019t understand all this post modern fuss over genre. As hot as memoir is, I didn\u2019t write a memoir because honestly, my life is not that exciting. And I maintain there is more truth in fiction. It grants one freedom. Maybe I\u2019m a coward, for I do hide behind fiction, wear it like a veil, but it is also liberating. Though the The Town Slut\u2019s Daughter<\/em> is based on my life experiences-which grants it authenticity-the majority of the story\u00a0 is feigned. I can say unequivocally that I am not Fiona and Fiona is not I. (I fear she is smarter than I am. ) If you want reality, read my blog, One Life<\/em>, at heatherhaley.com wherein I stated, \u201cOur hunger for realism, hence the reality show phenomenon, and rise of the documentary fuel such expectations, pressure, to write a memoir. I never doubted my instincts, knew I was framing narrative within a novel. Works for me. Autobiographical novel<\/em> also seems a contradiction in terms. Truth is relative and \u201chonesty is not synonymous with truth.\u201d Let the critics and pundits postulate ad nauseum, I need to focus on process.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve taken an approach similar to EL Doctorow in Ragtime<\/em> by blending real people and events with characters and things I\u2019ve made up. As I told writer friend Justine Brown the other day, I chose to keep many of the band names because it would be difficult to conjure up better ones. DOA, Dead Kennedys, Dishrags, Subhumans, Devices, Rabid, Pointed Sticks, Young Canadians, and the Zellots, which was my first and all-female group-are portrayed along with various real life events. This scene is based upon the first time the Clash played Vancouver, at the Commodore. I idolized them and so did most of my punk rock comrades. We were thrilled to say the least. By the way, though the novel is in third person, we often we hear directly from Fiona, eves dropping in on her thoughts and feelings in first person. From part one-Girls With Guitars<\/em>-it could have been titled Punk Rockers in Love<\/em>. Not!<\/p>\n

Does he do this she wondered? Conjure up last night, the things we did, feel an after-shudder? Waiting to see Emmett Hayes, was . . . agony! Fiona couldn\u2019t eat. Think straight. Gawd I hate this! Half an hour late. Again. She diddled her guitar, scanned a book, traipsed back and forth to the fridge, swinging wildly between anger and anxiety. Why doesn\u2019t he call? That dink! She could have gone with Rita and Shannon. She could have spent her hard earned cash on something besides a new silk bra and panties. That bastard. Then, still cursing, Fiona heard his obnoxious Porsche engine out front and relief coursed through her limbs. She barely resisted the urge to run to the car.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry I\u2019m late,\u201d he mouthed, the Clash\u2019s I Fought the Law<\/em> blasting from his Blaupaunkts. \u201cDid you hear? The Clash came out and played soccer with us!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah! Who won?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey did, of course. My shins are covered in bruises.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emmett yarded on the gears pinball wizard style. Soon they were pelted with fat raindrops. He pulled over immediately to put the top up. They cruised the block repeatedly in search of the safest parking spot for his precious steed of steel. At last they entered the fading art deco grandeur of the Commodore Ballroom, Emmett waving tickets at the doorman, breezing by security like a diplomat. Christ. He must have been left under a cabbage by mistake.Emmett surveyed the room, refusing Fiona\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck! Look at all the poseurs.\u201d<\/p>\n

Fiona spied Dennis across the room, stomach tilting at the reproach in his face. A young woman in a booth flanking the stage sat sneering.<\/p>\n

\u201cEmmett, who\u2019s that girl glaring at us?\u201d<\/p>\n

He ignored the question, wandered off, Fiona following.<\/p>\n

The Clash had an excellent DJ spinning a killer mix of ska, punk, reggae and dub. Fiona waved to Shannon and friends. The place was jammed with every die-hard in the city, slam dancing on its famous ballroom floor, originally designed to make any clodhopper hoof it like Fred Astaire. The Commodore had character all right and it was the perfect size. Fiona hated arena shows. The Dishrags opened. It was inspiring to watch fellow females wailing on guitar. They finished with a blazing rendition of London\u2019s Burning.<\/em> Next up, Bo Diddley. Emmett said the Clash brought the old guy along as a way to pay homage to one of rock and roll\u2019s originators. Fiona shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m too young for nostalgia.\u201d<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, the Powder Blues were his pickup band, old fart-guitar god wannabes and though playing with a legend, forced everyone to sit through a long, boring wank session.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck this. I wanna see the Clash!\u201d Fiona was not alone in her sentiments.<\/p>\n

Shannon walked over and pulled her aside. \u201cSee that girl? That\u2019s Electra. One of Emmett\u2019s girlfriends. He told her he was bringing her tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cElectra! Sounds like an Italian scooter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s weird. Really mad, says she\u2019s gonna beat the crap out of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laughing, they walked over to Emmett. He lowered his drink, deigned to look at them, insisting he hadn\u2019t invited anyone but Fiona. Clouds of tension were gathering on the dance floor as well, burly security guards manning the barriers. Finally, the Clash emerged, a tidal wave of bodies surging forward, the band opening with I\u2019m So Bored With the U.S.A<\/em>, Emmett off the hook. For now.<\/p>\n

Beer. You only rent it. Fiona ran to the bathroom between songs, in and out of a stall quickly. Electra appeared, strutted over and squinted up into Fiona\u2019s face like a Pekinese.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey bitch! Keep your paws off Emmett or I will kill you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Looking around, Fiona laughed. \u201cWhere\u2019s the hidden camera? Hey, Eeeelectraaaa. I think you\u2019d better stay away from Emmett.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWanna fight about it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHah! I could squish you like a bug. Fuck off! This ain\u2019t junior high, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

What Electra lacked in size, she made up for in attitude, fueled by four-inch stilettos, garters, fishnets, black leather mini skirt, all of which had nothing to do with punk and everything to do with Emmett.<\/p>\n

Electra spit at her. Missing her target\u2014Fiona\u2019s face\u2014the gob splatted onto her clavicle. Fiona looked down. Nearly blind with fury, she handily hoisted Electra up by the lapels. Shannon barged in. Fiona slammed Electra into the wall, back of her head banging the paper towel dispenser. Electra yelped.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou bitch. You fucking whore!\u201d<\/p>\n

Shannon grabbed Fiona by the arm. They walked out dogged by the undaunted Lilliputian. Fiona barreled over to Emmett.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat were you thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you! I didn\u2019t ask her. She just assumed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Wee Electra was at the bar again, glowering.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet lost, you skanky broad!\u201d Emmett hollered at her.<\/p>\n

Snotty pose pierced like a balloon, Electra flumped away, people laughing in her wake.<\/p>\n

\u201cGod Emmett you\u2019re an asshole!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, I brought you. What do you care?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI care because it\u2019s the same way you treat me. Like shit!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck this!\u201d He walked away in a huff.<\/p>\n

Fuck this all right! Fighting tears, determined to revel in this night to remember, Fiona formed two fists and shoved her way through the crowd, jabbing, elbowing, bashing. She glanced back. Emmett gone. Naturally. Though the faces on the floor were familiar, the horde formed one huge alien, reeking of stewed leather and body heat, Clash so loud they cloaked the clamor of thumping heart, roaring blood. Fiona was rammed. Hard. She heard the wind go out of her lungs, body boxed about as if by bulls. She slipped, nearly going down, floored by the vision of her fractured skull ground into the boards by dozens of tightly laced combat boots.I am too black in the heart to fall! She carved a line out of the crush to the foot of the stage, stared up at Simonon. He was perfect\u2014angled cheekbones, mouth gaping open like a Lego-focused kid, long, lean muscles. An art student apparently, before hitching up with the Clash, couldn\u2019t play a note till Mick Jones taught him. Like John Lennon. Must be a British thing, that link between art school and rock. So why did I let Trent talk me out of art school? Oh my God. Simonon! He\u2019s looking right at me! Got a girlfriend, according to Shannon, some tart who writes for NME<\/em>. Strummer strained against his Telly, snaking the mike stand with his body. Tossing his guitar onto his back, he leaned over the crowd, ranting, railing.Loose-kneed Mick Jones was running, leaping, boinging all over the stage, carving out notes with an axe, his golden Gibson Les Paul. Goofy booster Dennis vaulted onto the stage during Career Opportunities,<\/em> ricocheting off amps and various Clash members, security goons giving Keystone Cops chase. Strummer even let Dennis commandeer the mike and bray out the chorus with him, Fiona feeling a twinge of envy.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u2026I\u2019m preparing for Word Vancouver, Sun, Sept 27 at 1:30 at Library Square and SFU’s Early Punk Rock Scene Discussion, with Bloodied But Unbowed director, Susanne Tabata, Oct 13 at Special Collections, SFU Library in Burnaby \u00a0FREE TO IMAGINE (Redux) \u00a0\u201cHonesty is not synonymous with truth.\u201d-Vera Parmiga, The Departed This book took a long time […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4],"tags":[149,217,246,381,274,321],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4171"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4171"}],"version-history":[{"count":28,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4171\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4200,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4171\/revisions\/4200"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4171"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4171"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4171"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}