Lesbian Life Interview with Gina Daggett

You might know her as Lipstick from the Curve magazine lesbian advice column Lipstick & Dipstick, but add novelist and filmmaker to the hats that Gina Daggett is wearing these days. Gina Daggett just published her first novel Jukebox, about two sorority sisters who fall in love. In their closeted lives, they communicate with one another through songs played on a jukebox in a local dive bar. It’s hard for them to come to terms with their attraction in their perfect high-society worlds. Will they risk it all to be together?

Lesbian Life conducted an email interview with Gina Daggett about her debut novel, the film she plans to make from the story and the other projects on her plate. (Full disclosure: Kathy Belge and Gina Daggett write the Lipstick & Dipstick column together. Gina's book is a separate venture and is not connected to Lipstick & Dipstick or Kathy, although Kathy did conduct this interview.)

Lesbian Life: How was it to make the transition from advice columnist to novelist?

Gina Daggett: Well, the truth is I made the transition from novelist to columnist. That’s how long this little lyrical devil has been in development. It was relatively smooth, as I’ve found I can swap hats fairly easily. The reason: it’s a state of mind. Am I the musing fiction writer or the ass slapping advice columnist? Depends on the day. The hour.

What was the process of writing Jukebox?

It was extremely cathartic. Tears came first. Then my own coming out. Then the first word. And that was over ten years ago. The novel started out as a journal entry and evolved from there. Its next manifestation was my senior thesis at Pacific University’s writing program. A writing degree in hand, I just kept on running, kept on typing. The story has changed POV a couple times, has blown up and shrunk, and the playlist has always been a work in progress, even up to the few days before I sent in the final manuscript to the editors at Bella Books. The characters, too, have evolved and revealed themselves to me in surprising ways and at epiphanous moments.

A lot of the story takes place in a dive bar. Did you do your writing in dive bars to set the mood?

Of course there was a bit of that. I’ve even done some writing at Ernie’s, the actual bar in the novel. I find that alcohol taps into a different side of me creatively. That’s not to say I have a tapped keg next to my desk or anything (psst: it’s in the kitchen). Writing freehand does the same thing. I do most of my brainstorming, outlining and problem-solving with a good ole fashioned paper and pen. And I’m very sentimental and a bit superstitious. I’ve got journal-after-journal of scribbles, clippings, photos, lyrics, fortune cookie wishes, horoscopes, emails, etc. Some of those pages have dimpled watermarks from cold pints of beer.

Which do you enjoy more? Writing fiction or writing lesbian advice?

Tough to say because they tickle different parts of my brain. I’m a novelist in the AM and Lipstick by night. They’re both rewarding in their own way. Fiction, well, storytelling in general—I’m also a screenwriter—is instantly gratifying. It’s like a power station for me when I plug in and lose myself in story. Giving advice is amusing and sometimes, when someone is really in a tough spot, very challenging, often stretching my own skin. Sometimes I have quick witty answers, and sometimes I have to go for a really long run and look at my own life. The gratification of being “Lipstick” comes in the form of feedback we receive from readers, when we learn we’ve affected someone’s life for the better. Even when someone writes in complaining about something Dipstick or I dished, I still find that satisfying. Anytime you challenge people or push them from complacency to action it’s a good thing. It’s reminds them they have a pulse and starts a conversation.

I understand you were a debutant in Arizona. How much of this story is based on your life?

Many threads from Jukebox were pulled from my own life. Broad strokes of story and issues Harper and Grace rub up against—especially the larger truths in the novel—are things I’ve also come to terms with. My first girlfriend was a fellow debutant, we were also sorority sisters, and we used to play songs to one another in a dive bar called Ernie’s. Some of the songs on the novel playlist were actual tunes we punched into the jukebox back in the day.

Although the young women who fall in love in Jukebox face a lot of disapproval from their families and friends, they somehow find one another. Is there a message here for young people struggling with the closet or with homophobic family members?

Yes! The hopeful message—and the fuel that kept me going all those years—is threefold. First, we are way stronger than we know and can face any challenge as long as we’re honest. Second, courage is what shapes us. Third, the road to happiness for those of us who feel “different” or “gay” or even if you can’t find words for it, is a well-beaten path and always leads to a colorful peaceful garden as long as we’re willing to stand in your truth without shame.

I love the idea of the jukebox. These two young women are too in the closet to share their feelings with one another, so they speak to one another by playing songs from a jukebox in a dive bar. Where did you come up with the playlist?

Selecting the music was the gravy. At various points along the way, as the narrative evolved and the storyline changed, I had to redesign the framework by moving songs around, adding and subtracting. I loved this task because I love music; it’s the wallpaper of my soul (aka the room I hang out in with myself and those I love). You didn’t have to twist my arm to sit down, open up iTunes and go hunting. I’d throw songs I thought might work into a playlist, think about the scene or chapters they were linked to, and close my eyes. The right song eventually came through the speakers. The songs also had to be ones you’d find in a dive bar on the jukebox back then. They had to feasible, recognizable and relevant.