An interview with Vancouver author Amber Dawn

Amber Dawn is the award-winning author of the novel Sub Rosa, the memoir How Poetry Saved My Life, and a forthcoming collection of poetry, all published by the Vancouver-based Arsenal Pulp Press.

Dawn’s fictional debut tells the story of Little, a teenage runaway who joins an underground world of magical prostitutes, in a fresh voice and magic realism—style that brightens its dark subject matter and does what only the best books do: make you see something in an entirely new light. A speculative fictionalized version of her own story, Sub Rosa was followed by a memoir comprised of prose and poetry that brings together nearly 15 years of writing. Offering a poignant and powerful glimpse into Dawn’s lived experience hustling the streets of Vancouver, the memoir preaches what it practices with a call to arms that asks readers to honour and speak their own truths.

Interview by Tracy Stefanucci and photographs by Megan Prediger

 

Tracy Stefanucci: Sub Rosa had a big impact on me. I read it when I was living in Strathcona on Pender Street and the bushes behind my house were the site of a lot of sex work. At first, this was really hard for me to reconcile – my socially programmed responses of fear, pity, or even disgust didn’t sit well with me, but I wasn’t sure what I should feel or think instead. For me, your book humanized sex workers in a way that nothing else I’d ever encountered had. When you first began working on your novel, what was your inner conversation around taking up such a subject?

Amber Dawn: Working in the bushes on Pender Street does sound hard! There is no running water. No way to keep the workspace clean or secure. I hate working in the bushes.

I didn’t want the protagonist of Sub Rosa to work in the bushes. I portrayed Little’s working environment as large, clean and bright: “Nowhere did [Little] spot a dust bunny or fingerprint or scuff mark.” Little also works alongside her own household and an extended community of sex workers. Information about work skills, working conditions, and the clients are openly shared amongst members of this community. Writing these kinds of conditions into Sub Rosa is humanizing. It is the way all workers should be able to work. Isolation, silence, stigma, and expulsion from society are the very core of dehumanizing. And as we’ve seen in Vancouver and worldwide, when people–especially poor women – are dehumanized, their lives are utterly unprotected.

I wanted Little and the other characters of Sub Rosa to not be burdened with dehumanizing working conditions. I needed their focus to be on an emotional landscape that was ‘higher’ than mere survival.

TS: The idealized world you create for Little is a powerful device. I had so much fun going on Little’s journey with her that at times I would pause and think, “Wait, is it okay to view this as fun?” I almost felt guilty, as if I were taking pleasure in something I shouldn’t be. This inner dialogue encouraged me to question the ‘good/bad’ and ‘right/wrong’ dynamic that I was bringing to the subject.

I also found myself wondering if this world was the ‘reality’ of the book or Little’s translation of her experience. Were you intending to set up the possibility that Little might be an unreliable narrator using fantastical amplification to process and communicate a harsh reality?

AD: Yes, I understood while writing that Little would be seen as an unreliable narrator by many readers, and that the idealized world that surrounded her would be considered aspects of her own creative coping mechanism. I was careful never to completely confirm or discredit either reading of Little’s character and experiences. To me, it’s more interesting to see where the reader arrives with Little for themselves. The grey area between reality and fantasy is as critical to me as the vast grey area between right and wrong.

“The grey area between
reality and fantasy
isas critical to me as
the vast grey area between
right and wrong.”

TS: I love that! It is so poignant how speculative fiction reflects that perception is always a “grey area,”as reality and truth are subjective. Maybe that is part of the reason why the genre is so suited to stories that challenge the status quo. How did writing in this style help you put words to this story?

AD: Readers trust a magical or fantastic container. Normally, as soon as magic is introduced into fiction, the reader can expect a victory of some kind. Magic is an ally a protagonist can count on. As soon as Dorothy puts on the magical silver shoes (made into ruby slippers for the film) the reader can rest assured that magic will allow her to make a comeback from all the hardships of Oz. Similarly, magic allows my readers to have confidence in Little’s journey. Magic gives Little – and all the characters in her community – the upper hand that reality does not. Magic allowed me to introduce readers to a community of runaway, young prostitutes and not have them spend the entire book worried about the girls’ safety.

TS: What gave you the “strength and inspiration,” as you put it in the introduction of How Poetry Saved My Life, to write Sub Rosa

AD: I really dug into what Sub Rosa was, as a novel, between 2007 and 2009. This is long enough ago that I don’t exactly remember how I did it. Sometimes it seemed I was in a trance. I remember literally lying on my bed, face down in a pillow, while my arms were outstretched in front of me, fingers still tapping away on my laptop keyboard. I went the MFA  route to learn my craft and Sub Rosa was my graduate thesis. As I expected, I was involved in the discussion of: “Can magical (speculative) fiction be literary fiction?” These ongoing debates did not hinder my process; I was well-supported as I wrote. However, I crashed after graduating. I no longer had the MFA workshop to nurture me. Sub Rosa – the thesis – was not yet working as Sub Rosa the novel. I got very low and lonely finishing the final drafts on my own. I wish I could say I didn’t feel pain while writing it, or that I didn’t relapse, or that I was proud of myself. Writing my memoir was much easier than Sub Rosa, because with the novel, I – the author – had the power to change the way sex work looks. It was both an opportunity and an incredible emotional burden. All in all, I simply knew I just had to finish the darn book. As inhabitants of this trepidatious world, we only have so many chances to declare “The end.”

TS: How was collecting and publishing the texts in your memoir, a different experience?

AD: Surprisingly, I found publishing my memoir an uplifting and healing experience. I felt strong owning my story. And the personal nature of the book has brought me close to scores of readers. Readers often hug me or share tender words with me at literary events. I waited and waited for antagonistic responses, and no such responses reached me. When I won the 2013 City of Vancouver Book Award at the Mayor’s Arts Awards, it really sank in: people want to hear from sex workers and survivors – not just debate about them – but hear their authentic, complex, unique stories.

TS: In your memoir you quote Jeanette Winterson: “A tough life needs a tough language– and that’s what poetry is.” How did poetry give you a voice?

AD: It was healing to use poetry to tell part of my story. Poetry is a great genre to disrupt any dumbed-down popular culture messages and to invite the reader to really re-think meaning and story. In this day and age, poetry is an underdog genre – I can relate! Poetry and so-called ‘outsider stories’ make great mates.

TS: What advice to do you have for other authors who are grappling with personal, stigmatized topics?

AD: Reach out to your people. Honestly, don’t work in 100 percent isolation. It isn’t ideal for sex workers and it isn’t ideal for writers either. Even if your sole way of connecting is via an online writers’ community or organizing a writers’ group that meets as few as four times per year. Attend readings of writers you admire – introduce yourself. Let your friends, lovers, your yoga teacher – someone you know that you are writing challenging work. If your friends are not writers or avid readers, ask them to support you in the ways they know how – like going to see a big-budget action movie with you or making you some chicken soup. See what I’m saying here? Reach out. It’s totally unreasonable for writers to employ these creative, brave voices in our writing if we are not able to ask for what we need from others around us. Reach out.