About the Author

Lynnette D'anna

Lynnette D'anna is a vagabond who has lived in Vancouver, Winnipeg, Toronto and Saskatoon after surviving childhood in the bible-belt of South-Eastern Manitoba. She is a sometimes-poet and author of the contemporary fictions Vixen (2001) and Fool's Bells (1999) — both published by Insomniac Press; Belly Fruit (2000) and RagTimeBone (1994) — published by New Star Books; and Sing Me No More — published by Press Gang in 1992. Her coming-of-age novel, RagTimeBone, is also published in German as a YA fiction for lesbian and gay youth by Arguement Press based in Hamburg, Germany.

Books by this Author

Fool's Bells

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RagTimeBone
Excerpt

Rita starts to follow her right after she breaks up with Pearce. Every time Sage turns around, there she is. Rita knows she is no Pearce Winthrop; she can't climb trees and she hates heights. She's scared to climb, but she adores Sage.

Sage doesn't give a shit about how she looks. Doesn't wear the standard cool-girl jeans with baby-coloured angora sweaters. She wears a boy's denim jacket with its sleeves rolled up. Faded jeans, not pre-torn in a factory, and unlaced burgundy Doc Martens. She listens to weird music, jazz that sounds like dogs barking. Rolls her own cigarettes and smokes where anyone can see her. Sage has no sullen father to embarrass her with his naked mistress in a drawer. Has a mother who is, everybody knows, as good as any man.

Rita sticks close to her for a while before Sage deigns to talk to her. "What do you want from me?" she barks. “You're like some dog in heat or something, the way you wander around behind me."

"I like you," Rita says bravely. "I want to be your friend."

Sage stomps her boot hard against the pavement, and shakes her fist in Rita's moonstruck face. "Get lost!” she yells.

But Rita just stays there, does not shrink back, does not falter. "I'm going to be your best friend," she says. “Your very best friend, whether you like it or not."

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Sing Me No More
Excerpt

For a case of beer she sold her wedding band. That was what it had been worth. They melt them down for their metal. The ring would vanish, it would disappear. It would no longer exist. It would no longer match anything.

It had not been her rock bottom, melting the band for beer, not hers. Rock bottom had been all around her, round like the face of a clock, before the marriage and after. After the separation and after the meltdown.

Rock hits bottom. This is her rock bottom. This now.

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Vixen

Vixen

edition:Paperback
also available: eBook
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