Chastity: writing from the heart; the love story Chastity Bono thought she could never tell is finally a book--her book The End of Innocence. (Cool Summer Books).

There is a loud click as Chastity Bono's beloved hairless cat, Stinky Butt, drags my tape recorder off the coffee table and onto the floor for the third time. While I grumble about interruptions, Chastity smiles affectionately at the sphinx she calls her "soul mate. Isn't she fantastic? I've never had an animal that I felt this way about."

Perhaps it is no coincidence then that this furless feline came into Chastity's life the moment she finally sat down to tell the story she's been avoiding for years. Could this remarkable little guiding light have caught a piece of the late Joan Stephens's spirit and brought it back to soothe Chastity through the writing process?

"Yes, and Joan would have loved all this attention," Chastity says, referring to the publication of her new book, The End of Innocence: A Memoir (Advocate Books/Alyson Publications), which explores the love affair between a much younger Chastity and Joan Stephens (originally a friend of Cher's), who died of lymphoma in 1994. No wonder it took a long time to write this book. Chastity's love match with Joan is a hot story in every way because it touches on issues that are often controversial. It is very sexual; there are age differences; the main character falls in love with a friend she met through her mother (remember Mrs. Robinson?); ex-girlfriends cause dyke drama galore; music business fame and corruption threaten their happiness; and finally, Joan's devastating diagnosis brings Chastity a challenge she never dreamed she could meet.

This coming-of-age story first came to light shortly after Joan's death, in Chastity's 1995 Advocate coming-out interview. When Chastity read an early copy of the issue, she told me, "It's great, but I think there's too much of Joan in it." I did not agree. In fact, I always knew there would be more--much more. Now, finally, it's here...

Did the process of writing The End of Innocence make you feel different about your relationship with Joan?

Well, I think there are a few ways that it felt different. As far as Joan's illness, I realized that all of those experiences were much worse than I had remembered them. Which is interesting, because I think usually as humans we tend to build things up over time, and usually when we look back, we realize, God, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. Whereas this was totally the opposite. It was actually worse than I remembered.

As far as my relationship with Joan, it was pretty much how I remembered it. It was wonderful. I think I can look back at Joan now and see a little bit of the immaturity she had--her friends and her relationships with women. There was a lot of drama and a lot of immaturity that I wasn't aware of then because I was just as immature, if not more.

But you were in your 20s!

And now, being in my 30s and having done some work on myself, I think I can see that there was stuff they were doing and decisions that Joan made that I don't think I would do at this point in my life.

I wonder if you'd say that Joan, who was in her 40s then, was avoiding certain things in her life long before she got sick...

I don't think avoidance would be the right word. You have to understand that Joan had lived her entire adult life without most of the responsibilities that most adults have. This is a woman who never paid taxes.

Because she was being kept by a married man.

Exactly. Because she had a financially secure situation. And, you know, the situation in and of itself, God knows how that affected her, emotionally. Joan was very young at heart.

True, but there were an awful lot of substances going on, Chas.

Well, Joan was a pothead. A pot addict. She had been her entire life. I don't know if that's something that would've stopped or not. Oddly enough, when she got sick and probably could've used it for medical reasons, she pretty much stopped using it. She said she always associated it with feeling good and good times, and so she hardly ever smoked after that. As far as the drinking and partying, that was not an everyday occurrence. That was the occasional blowout party. It would be remiss of me not to talk about it in the book, because it was a very fond memory.

When I first met you, you actually said to me that you felt you were illiterate. I know that your mother and father were never formally educated either; in fact, I think there was talk of dyslexia. So what does it mean to you to have emerged out of this legendary family a writer?

Well, it feels good, because growing up I really did think that I was not an intelligent person at all. And I realized that I am. I think in a lot of ways, dealing with Joan's illness was the first step in me coming to terms with my abilities, just as a person. Because I watched a lot of people around us just disappear once she got sick, or make the obligatory "How's everything going?" call. I could take care of her and rise to the occasion, not just in a half-assed way but really, really deal under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. So I think that was one of the first big confidence-building things that ever happened to me.

So helping Joan die and not leaving her gave you something you never had before?

Yes, absolutely. After her death I started writing for The Advocate and then started to speak publicly. But I don't know that I would've been able to make the transition into those things if I hadn't gone through those experiences with Joan.

Did you ever want to run when...?

I haven't talked about this at all, and it's not in the book, but when Joan first got really sick, I can remember we had a conversation where she wanted me to leave until this was over. And I remember saying how absurd that was. A few months later she would tell me on a daily basis that there was no way she could get through this without me.

The life of a writer is generally very isolated and lonely. When you first started writing this book about Joan, you got very freaked out. You didn't want to be alone with the feelings again.

Right. I had gotten to the point, oddly enough, when we signed a contract, where I felt like I was finally getting over Joan. I think my initial motivations for writing this book unconsciously were to continue to live in that space, because I had been living in it for so long. But then when it came time to actually write it, I didn't want to do that. I was feeling good for the first time in six years and was worried about it messing that up.

When we put you with cowriter Michele Kort, that changed it for you.

Yes, I hate the whole solitude, lonely writer thing. I think part of it is my experience in the record industry and acting for all those years. All of my creative experiences prior to being a writer had always been collaborative--you know, bouncing ideas off other people. Certain people love to have total control and have it be just them in their little studio. That's not me.

Also, during this time, weren't you going through depression and drugs and trying to get clean?

No, that was happening when I signed the contract.

No wonder you were resisting revisiting that pain. But ultimately facing those devils was a good thing.

Yeah, a very good thing, and I think even for the book, because it turned out to be a more objective book.

What was it like for Stasie [Kardashian, Chastity's girlfriend], having you writing a book about the most important lover in your life--up until her?

It really wasn't an issue, mainly because for the most part I was able to write the book in a fairly detached way, not going through all of those emotions.

And those old pitfalls?

Yes, I wasn't comparing Stasie to Joan like I had with all of my partners prior to her. In the past, with other relationships, when they weren't going well I would immediately go back to Joan and how great everything was with Joan, and just compare the two. I've stopped doing that, because that's not the reality. I don't know what would've happened if Joan had lived. I don't know, because my life would be completely different.

The End of Innocence deals with more than your life with Joan. It deals with your band Ceremony and the traumas of the music business that you were going through at the same time. What did retelling this part of the story bring up for you?

I realized the same thing as with Joan--that I hadn't built it up in my mind at all. I realized the music business experience with Ceremony was also much worse than I had remembered it. It just reconfirmed that it wasn't the right choice for me. I hated the business. I didn't love the music enough to be able to put up with the business.

It's hard for me to imagine having had a career in music and not ever wanting to play music again.

Yeah, people seem dumbfounded that I don't want to have anything to do with music anymore. I found our old Ceremony video, the single, and showed it to the people in my life now--like Stasie. She had no idea that I was actually talented at music. All Stasie's ever heard is me singing stupid songs I make up about the cats--which I do all the time. So she asks why I don't want to do it anymore. And it's interesting because to me, it's like the talent is kind of, So what? `Cause I wasn't happy, and that's the most important thing.

You weren't happy doing it, or the music business made you unhappy?

I was not happy doing music, period. The best time that I had of it was in the beginning, when our band had a real sense of community and camaraderie. But it was never something I loved, like acting. I never felt confident as a musician or a singer. I felt really uncomfortable onstage--which I realize now has nothing to do with stage fright, `cause I love being onstage now speaking, and prior to that I used to love being onstage acting. The music career just wasn't meant to be. I have absolutely no desire for it.

You had a sexual harassment experience with some of the men you worked with in the recording studio that you didn't or couldn't report.

No, because it wasn't happening to me.

Yes, it was! Because it was happening to your bandmate Rachel, so it affected you on a personal level and a professional level.

Yeah, it absolutely affected me. You're right. Look, my mom always said, "You picked the three most horrible people in the record industry--the most crazy, dominating, fucked-up men in business." And they totally, all in their own ways, fucked with us personally and with our career. Rachel got the brunt of it, but it absolutely affected me and it totally affected our relationship to a huge degree. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. It was misery. So that sucked.

Well, I can get why this experience totally killed music for you.

I think that ultimately music was something that I didn't want to do, with or without that experience. To this day, the only time I listen to music is in my car; I never, ever listen to music in the house. Growing up, oddly enough, music was never playing in my house other than if my mom was working on an album or there was a party or something.

Both your parents were in the music business and yet no music was in the house?

Right. I remember when Ceremony had demos and stuff that I wanted to play for my mom; I can remember when all she had was a boom box to play it on. There was no fabulous sound system that you would think she would have, and I remember being so frustrated, like, Jesus, you have to listen to this on a boom box! I think that she's got better stuff now, but at that time that's what was there.

Since you're talking about your mom, she knew Joan too--which is how you originally met her. Your mom told me she read your book and loved it. She thinks it's a real page-turner. What does her reaction to your creativity mean to you?

It makes me feel great, obviously. I think everybody wants their parents' approval. I was thrilled with how much she liked it. She said to me that she saw The End of Innocence as a film, which is something I've always seen it as, so that made me feel good. My mom--I don't want to say she's critical, but she's not one of those gushy parents who loves absolutely everything you do. If you come home with a finger painting, she doesn't necessarily think it's Picasso. That's just not the kind of person she is; she's a realist. And so for her to really love something means that she really loves it; it's not just because she's my mom and I'm her kid.

I think she's especially proud that you're the writer in the family.

Yeah, that feels really good. I think that was another really difficult thing about being in the music industry for me. Every article that was written about Ceremony compared me with my parents; whether it was positive or negative, I could not break free of them no matter what. It took doing things that they don't do to get away from them. So that feels good to finally be past that to a degree. It's not to the point that I would like it to be or that, maybe, it will ever be, I don't know.

When I spoke to your mom, she talked about the depression that runs in your family. Could you talk a little about it too?

Yeah, a little bit. It's definitely something that's existed in my family, and as far as my own experience with it, there were definitely times as a child that I exhibited very typical depressed behavior. Of course, I didn't have a word for it at the time.

It wasn't recognized by anybody?

No, but people noticed me. I used to sit in my room alone with the shades down a lot. When I was 13 or 14--which was a particularly bad time in my life--my mom and my nanny used to call me "Mole Woman."

[Chuckles] "Mole Woman"!

"Mole Woman," yeah. And certainly after Joan's death, you know, I went into a deep depression for six years.

Was it masked by stuff? `Cause I saw you a lot after Joan.

Yeah. And it wasn't constant--it ebbed and flowed. It slowly got worse. I think to varying degrees I was really depressed for a long time. I've realized that happiness is not something that comes naturally to me. It's something that entails some work for me.

When you say "work," can you indicate a little bit what you mean?

[Pauses] It takes emotional and spiritual nurturing, almost exercise, if you will. It's kind of like going to the gym--keeping your body in shape. I feel like I need to do the same kind of thing as far as keeping myself emotionally fit. For me, it's not as simple as taking an antidepressant. That alone just doesn't work for me; it takes additional...

Therapies and things like that?

Therapies and 12-step groups.

Many people are dealing with this.

But I think there are people that don't have any type of chemical imbalance and can be generally happy unless something happens to make them unhappy. I think that I'm somebody that needs to work on it.

Your worst moment in this depression was considering suicide. How did you get there, and how did you get out of it?

I don't know exactly how I got there. It was an accumulation of many things. And it wasn't to the point of actually sitting down and planning it out. Life just became incredibly painful for me. I equated life with pain.

Where were you at this point?

It was in Joan's house. I was so lost. Joan died and I got dropped from my record label in the same week. Those were the two ways that I defined myself at that time in my life. It was so devastating. I put so much energy into caring for Joan that I didn't know what to do with myself after she died. Obviously, there were tons and tons of drugs in her house because of all her pain, so it would've been very easy.

How did you get past it?

[Long pause] I put Band-Aids on it. I don't think I ever really dealt with the feelings or worked them out. I got a new lover as quickly as I possibly could, and I just distanced myself. About a year after her death I started working for you guys [The Advocate]. My career took my focus, so I was off and running again. I wasn't really happy, but...

It was distracting although it didn't take care of your emotional needs?

Right, it didn't. There was this strange parallel of my career taking off, me becoming my own person, carving out a niche for myself, while at the same time emotionally tumbling down this hill and feeling worse and worse. It was a really frustrating time because I never felt any of the things that I was doing. I kept expecting them to make me feel something. And they didn't.

So you went after more things?

Exactly. I can remember when I got the idea for my first book, Family Outing. I remember thinking, God, if I can write a book--that'll be so huge and I'll feel so good, I'll feel like an author, I'll feel credible and I'll be taken seriously and I'll break away from my parents. I thought I would feel a certain way, and of course I didn't feel any different than the day before. That was really how my life worked during those years.

Do you ever watch The Osbournes on MTV? I'm asking because it made me wonder about a show that could've been called The Bonos.

It's not one of my favorite shows [chuckles]. It's kind of like of watching a train wreck.

Well, could you imagine if your family were together and they did The Bonos?

Well, it would be very different [laughs]. Actually, because of me growing up as the child of celebrities, I'm somewhat resentful of the portrayal of the kids on that show. I don't know if it's them or if it's the portrayal of them, but they seem to personify everything I've had to fight against my whole life: the idea that everything is handed to me on a silver platter.

Um, I don't really get that from the show, but I certainly know people have your situation all wrong.

I was doing an interview the other day for this book and the woman said to me, "Why do you write about these things? You certainly don't need the money." And I was thinking, Yeah--I do! I do need the money! I'm not a trust-fund baby; my mother does not pay for my life. It's just like it is for anybody else. I'm lucky that I happen to love what I do, but money is absolutely a factor in doing it.

Look, people think your mother is richer than...

Rockefeller.

You've been going to Italy a lot lately. I have this feeling that you'll possibly end up there at some point.

I think so too. But I'm taking my time because when I moved to San Francisco I learned a big lesson about just picking up and running. I'm sure you remember!

Oh, yes!

I think that it was a big 12-step program geographic: You run away from a place thinking you're gonna run away from your problems, and of course your problems follow you wherever you go. I was stuck there for a year and a half. Today, I go to Italy a lot. I just love it there, and I feel really at home there. I love the feeling of the slowed pace and the idea of really savoring life.

And your dad was Italian.

Yes, I am half Sicilian; that was always a big thing for me growing up because it represented my dad and I loved my dad so much. So I was always very proud of being Italian. But I didn't really know what that meant.

Maybe you'll be another Bono in Italy?

There are relatives there; I've never met them. But there are Bonos there.

Find more about Chastity Bono and excerpt from The End of Innocence at www.advocate.com