An Excerpt from Gracie’s Girls

Hi All,

This week’s blog is for those of you who love to write.

As many of you know by now, the main point of my website, blog and facebook page is to build a writer’s platform while sending agent queries for my fist novel. I’ve been taking very short excerpts from Gracie’s Girls and posting them on my page at www.facebook.com/vivfhamilton. The latter got me thinking, “why not blog a slightly bigger excerpt from the book that doesn’t give away the main plot etc. but is still entertaining” (well, I hope it’s entertaining – inserting smiley face).

I LOVE critique, both positive and constructive. I have a very thick skin, so please let me know your thoughts on this piece of writing in the comments below.

This excerpt is from the POV of Tara who is Gracie’s eldest daughter. She’s a singer in a band and is in the studio mixing one of her songs with her drummer Kurt. She’s asked her slightly nutty, psychic Aunt Ella to play a ‘conch’ shell for part of the song. Also, Tara always starts her chapters with lyrics from whatever she’s been working on.

Chapter 33 – Tara
(An excerpt from Gracie’s Girls)

Loving you, defies all reason
The past, the present, two hearts beating
A moment’s splendor, in your arms tonight
We tried our best, to stay apart
The past, the present, two hungry hearts
So take that splendor, hold on to it tight

By Tara Barrett

* * *

“That was mad, Ella. Let’s go for another take. Do it exactly the same as the last one, babe.” Austin, our thirty something sound engineer, slash producer, releases the mute on the intercom and swivels his chair to face me. “Man, your Aunt can blow! Very cool old lady too.”

“I wouldn’t let her hear you calling her old,” I warn him.

“Hey, I’m into older women, especially very cute, feisty older women.”

“You keep your eyes off her, bro. She’s mine!” Kurt blows Ella a kiss through the large window separating the control room from the studio.

“Aw, man, I’m always a day too late.” Austen turns his attention back to the monitor displaying a Pro Tools multi track recording program. The rows of faders on the screen mimic a large digital Soundcraft mixing desk dominating the room. “We need to double track this conch thing. The sound is killer. How’d you come up with the idea?”

“Let’s just say I have strange relatives.” I wink at Kurt and smile at the childlike joy glinting behind his eyes. Recording studios to Kurt are like Willy Wonker’s Chocolate Factory is to a five year old.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice Ella yelling and gesticulating.

“Sorry, babe.” Austin raises a fader and releases the intercom button. “My bad. What did you say, hon?”

“I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF!” Ella yells and taps her headphones.

“Whoa! No need to yell, hon, we have you loud and clear in here.”

“Oh, sorry.” She looks up sheepishly and smiles. “My bad, man.” Laughter erupts in the control room at Ella’s attempt at coolness.

“No problemo, Ella sweetie,” Austin says and makes a few mixer adjustments. “Okay, now blow that thing when you’re ready.”

“I love it when you talk dirty, Austin, hon.” She throws us a mock, lascivious look then proceeds to lay down the final conch track for the middle eight of I Praise.

Austin nestles comfortably into his black swivel chair. He closes his eyes and listens intently to Ella’s duplicate conch track.

“That was da bomb, babe! Come on in and have a listen.” He faces us and waves a big thumbs up. “She did good, a real pro.”

Ella bursts into the room and bows at the sound of our applause. Her short blond hair is curled around her face, framing sea green eyes filled with pride and a speck of humility. She flops down next to me on the studio’s worn couch and claps her hands like an excited child. “That was so much fun!”

“Here we go.” Austen plays back the song.

The splashy sound of Kurt’s cymbals spill out of the speakers. He pulls down the volume a little and inches up a symphony of strings followed by melodic guitar riffs, soothing bass runs and, finally, the erotic sounds of Ella’s conch. The section of music soon ends and is replayed over and over as Austin, his head cocked, listening intently, twiddles knobs and shifts faders.

Once he’s satisfied with the instrumentation, he mixes in my vocals. The lyrics in the middle eight are sung in the Cherokee language, plagiarized from Mom’s favorite hymn, Amazing Grace. Having been written in the 1920’s, the song now resides in the public domain. Free of copyright restrictions, it belongs to everyone and no one.

“Tara, you take my breath away every time I hear you sing.” Ella reaches across to squeeze my hand. “You belong on stage, you always have.”

“I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

Singing to me is as important as breathing. I reveal something about myself every time I step in front of an audience, whether it’s bar staff in an empty night club or a sea of raging fans at an outdoor festival. So far, we haven’t performed I Praise to a live crowd and I’m almost frightened to discover what buried emotion is hidden inside the lyrics and melodies. This song is so different from anything else I’ve ever written. A strange melancholy breathes inside its minor chords, fighting against the song’s uplifting riffs. Whenever I sing I Praise I feel as if I’m floating on the edge of an important discovery, something frightening, yet exhilarating at the same time.

Austen plays the entire song from start to finish and, as the last notes fade to a whisper, he turns and says, “You guys have a killer hit on your hands.”

“It’s gold, pure gold.” A single tear falls from Kurt’s chin, leaving a splotch the size of a quarter, on the light blue denim of his designer jeans.

“He’s right, honey. This song will be loved by millions. I’m sure of it.” Ella rummages inside her giant pumpkin bag. “Ah, here it is.” She opens her hand to reveal a golden crystal. “It’s a citrine, a solar plexus chakra stone to give you self confidence and positive energy.” She places it in my hand and closes my fingers over it. “They call it the success stone because it promotes abundance. Tara, you don’t need this but, well, better safe than sorry, right?”

“Thanks Ella, it’s beautiful.”

Austin swivels his chair to face them and announces the mix, for now, is finished.

“You did good, Ella. That conch thing is magic.” He rolls his chair over to another computer on the opposite side of the room and opens up a digital diary. “I’ll keep working on this over the next week. Is the band available to sign off on the final master say, next Sunday, August nineteen?”

“If they’re not, they’ll make themselves available,” Kurt says. “What about the shoot?”

Austin scrolls through his calendar and says, “The crew have a four hour spot on the twentieth at 2pm to finalize location and storyboard.” He digitally flips over several pages. “Here we are. Yep, they can fit in the shoot that weekend. All going well, the clip should be ready for approval by the end of the first week in September.” He types the details into the calendar and looks up. “That work for you?”

“Yes, yes and a big fat yes!” Kurt squeezes my knee. His eyes gleam with excitement and…apprehension? I make a mental note to question him on it later.

“Hold up!” I flip through my phone diary to check each date. “We’re cool for the twentieth production meeting. We’ll have to move the Maxine’s gig on the Saturday night of the shoot weekend. Nigel owes me a favor so no problem there. We’re at Bar 69 the night before. By the time we bump out and drive home our heads should hit the pillow around 2.00am, then up at 5.00am. Looks like a bottle of Clear Eyes and energy drinks for breakfast.”

“Damn! Isn’t there another weekend? I hate blowing out gigs.” Kurt furrows his brow and struggles to dig his cell out from the pocket of his tight jeans.

“Sorry, babe. The band’s fully booked for the next three months,” I tell him. “Better text Shanna and Sev and let them know.”

Austen flips through his calendar again and shakes his head. “I have you guys booked most week nights through September. How far off are you from finishing the album?”

“Three more tunes. We have two down and still arguing about the bridge in the third.” I slice Kurt a look of annoyance. He’s as pedantic now as he was back in high school and is still the main cause of angst between the usually easy going Angel Awake band members. Lashanna almost quit for the second time this year after their last run in over the instrumentation for Summer Solstice, the second song on the album.

“You okay with the shoot date, Ella?” I peer over at my Aunt who is rummaging in her bag again.

“Hon, seriously, you don’t want an old lady in your video clip. I’ll teach Katie to mime the conch parts. She was so bummed about not being here today, this will make it up to her.” She retrieves her cell from the depths of her bag and thumbs a text. “There, I’ve let her know the date.” Seconds later, Ella’s phone vibrates. “Ha! She says ‘yeah baby, bring it on!’ Crazy kid.”

“Since when did you start referring to yourself as old.” Every birthday for the past fifteen years, Ella’s insisted she is ‘thirty nine…again’.

“Compared to young Katie, I’m ancient.”

“And very cute and feisty,” Austin chimes in.

“Hey, I warned you already. Keep your paws off her, buddy. Come on, babe, we’re going to lunch before this letch tries to steel you away from me.”

Ella happily takes Kurt’s proffered arm and throws Austin a sympathetic look.

“Nice guys always finish last,” he says, pulling a sad face.

“Never mind, Austin, there’s lots of fish in the sea…or cougars in the jungle,” I say, chuckling at his exaggerated, forlorn expression. “We’ll be seeing you on the nineteenth. Great job today. You’re a magician.”

As I follow Kurt and Ella out to the car park, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of excited anticipation. Just nine days before the production meeting…there’s so much to do and think about.

* * *

I hope your enjoyed this segment of Gracie’s Girls, and as mentioned, please leave feedback below whether you liked it or not…I can take it! You can like my facebook page here or follow me on twitter here.

Take care all, Viv x