Interview with the Reader #1

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Celeste Williams

celesteFavorite Read: The Bible

What role did books play in your early life?

In my early life, books, like Sweet Valley High, or Goose Bumps were key. As these books allowed me and my peers to have discussions.

Do you think that networking with other readers is also important?

I believe networking with other authors is important, because as a reader, an endorsement from my favorite authors have allowed me to give newer to me authors a chance.

How important is a book’s cover to overall marketing of a book?

I majored in marketing, therefore, for product placement and distribution it is important, as it draws readers. It also lets you develop your first thoughts of what you believe the book would be about.

If you had a chance to address a room full of authors, what would you want them to know?

I would want them to know that I appreciate their creativity and that it is important to stay true to their voice. They do not have to write in every genre, but if they are going to stretch themselves into different genres, to research and ensure the formula works.

Why do you read?

I read as a creative outlet. It gives me a way in which to visualize and conceptualized characters. I often compartmentalized books where I say, this one is made for television, and this book would work best on the big screen.

About Celeste:

Bio (brief): Native Chicagoan, currently living outside of Austin, TX. I am the daughter of Irene & Joseph. I am the sister to 10 siblings (6 brothers/4 sisters). Host of nieces/nephews (last count 30), and the godmother to 1. I am an avid reader. Growing up, when I read, I would always start from the back, and if the ending did not work I would not read the book. It was my Sorority Sister Karen Fletcher, who convinced me to start reading books from the beginning, when she gave me Francis Ray’s “Somebody’s Knocking on My Door” in 2008. It was then, where I decided since I was going to read for pleasure that I needed to read the books from beginning to end.



Positive comments to Celeste:

Well, now what…..

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042012_0140_FindingYour2.gifThere is a point in everyone’s life when you realized that some things are just not for you. I recently experienced that moment, not only once, but twice.

Last week I walked into my classroom and we began our finals.  I started with my attendance and told the students, “For the last time, let us begin and end our Public Speaking journey.” After completing the attendance, I passed out numbers for the students speaking order.  I then began my relaxation techniques before the students began their final speeches. After the deep breathing and cleansing exercises, I politely instructed to the students, “Let us begin, come and show me what I have taught you.”

One by one they filed to the podium.  They were rehearsed.  They were prepared.  They were ready.  I was proud.

We managed to get through sixteen, five minute speeches, with slides, no cards, no scripts, no major flubs.  I, again was proud.

It was at that moment that realized, it can’t get any better than this.

My work here was done.

I walked into my boss’ office, and informed her that Thursday, would be my last day.

I kept it quiet and proceeded to complete my normal end of quarter process, and on Thursday, as quietly as I had arrived, I turned in my badge and key and called it a day.

Ironically, my boss understood that there was nothing left there for me to do and it was time for me to move on, forward and upward.

I also received a call on Tuesday from a potential employer which was also my signal to move on to greener pastures.  I had an interview with him on Friday.

I met with him and the team, and sat over the weekend and put together a plan of marketing profit.  If I may say so myself, it is brilliant and will make them a crap load of money.  There is only one problem.  I don’t want to do it.

I have decided, that I will give it to him and he can have fun with it. images

I may consult or work on one or two of the concepts, but honestly, I don’t have the energy to do that kind of work anymore.

My boss, in her farewell speech to me said, “We only have so much creative energy, and we must be careful how we use it.”  I found myself thinking that is the most bullshit filled statement I have ever heard.  The more creative you are, the more creative you become.  It is when you stop using the old grey matter that it becomes congealed. I felt my teaching gig was congealing the grey matter but for another reason. I had or was losing my passion.

I had other things I wanted to do and try and teaching, for the moment was in the way.

I sat yesterday, my first free day in Heaven knows when, and watched judge shows and SVU all day.  Okay, Cheryl, now what?

Well, I am going to start by cleaning my house, then I will clean my mental house and I will decide what’s next.

I am unemployed with a head full of ideas and ready to start the final phase of my life.  I know where I want to go.  I just have to clear out the clutter of where I have already been.  It is not going to all happen this week, but it will happen, because I will make it happen.

I am a writer.   I will write.

Entry Number 3: The Reader and Writer Meet

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Today’s entry takes us deeper into the plot of the story and we see the characters really start to take form. I will be very honest with you, I am having to really push myself and challenge my imagination.


Akins-Anderson Sydney: “I’ve seen these before.” Sydney said in an awe struck whisper. The ideograms, illuminated and project by azure light scrawled across the walls with vivid detail. Realizing his mouth had dropped open, he snapped his jaws shut and push back his glasses. As his eyes roved the arcane symbols he suddenly, and with less shock than he would have expected, noticed another thing. Everyone in the café had gone still. In a single sweep he saw that no one was moving. Like mannequins they had frozen in place. A Barista had been in the middle of pouring a mug of coffee, but now the liquid hung patiently in midair.

Sydney turned to the Writer.

Until now she had said nothing. Only observed. That would change.

“What is this?” Sydney asked with forced evenness.

The Writer cocked her head to the side and stared at him piercingly. He could feel her examining him; mind, body, and soul. It made him feel naked, yet strangely enough he wanted her to deem him worthy. And on the tail of that inclination he thought. Worthy of what? He returned her stared with great effort. The Writer sat less than three feet away from him and yet he could not see her. It was as if the nerves connecting his eyes to his brain had been laced with LSD. Her features changed, her clothes changed, and the more he concentrated the less he could make out.

“It’s easier if you don’t try to see me.” The Writer at last spoke. Like her features, her voice shifted with spagyric ease. One second he heard a child, the next an old woman, and everything in between. Yet beneath it all there was a unifying aura, a singular presence. .if only he could reach it.

“Forgive me for the shock of this occasion, but it was . . . necessary.” The Writer added.

“What is all of this?” Sydney asked bluntly. He was surprised at how well he was handling the unreality of the situation. Perhaps later he would go psychotic, but for now he wanted answers. The Writer turned and gazed at the spirituous transcript. Sydney sensed rather than saw a burning conviction in her. After a moment she turned back and engulfed him in the full maelstrom of her gaze.

“What does it say?” She demanded rather than asked.

“I don’t know.” Sydney said

“Who wrote it?” She continued

“I don’t know.” He replied

“Where have you seen it before?” She insisted.

“My dreams.” He answered.

She leaned back and considered his answers, yet her eyes remained on him. He sipped at the coffee she had ordered for him, but found it unappealingly cold. Her bombardment of questions had rattled him more than anything else thus far. In it he sensed, almost desperation. Why that should bother him so much he did not know, at the most it lent this seemingly inhuman figure a semblance of humanity.

“Can you read it?” she asked tentatively.

In her tone Sydney sensed a change in tactics.

“I don’t think so.” He said guardedly.

In a now pleasant tone she said: “Try.”

Sydney turned to the light blue script and tried. He did not know what language it was but it looked almost oriental, or perhaps Sanskrit; wavy and connecting in some places, geometrical and pictorial in others. Yet it all came together quite beautifully. He frowned, how was he supposed to read a language he did not know. He had no idea, but as he considered the unreality of all that was happening, who knew what was possible in this rabbit hole of a coffee shop.

“Something bad is coming from the void.” Sydney said. The words slipped out before he knew what they meant or where they came from. Immediately he turned back to the Writer and asked: “Why did I say that.”
She smiled; the expression both caliginous and bright.

“You read it.” She breathed with an air of relief, than almost to herself: “You are the Reader.”
Sydney didn’t speak, but simply waited for explanation. The Writer muttered something to herself the focused back on him.

“I have a story for you Reader; a very important one. So listen well and believe. It is an old tale that has been retold, reworked, and resold for as long as humans have looked towards the night sky and asked why. But for our purpose I think there is only one beginning that is truly fitting.” She drained her coffee mug and began. “In the beginning was the Word. . .”

You can continue to follow the story and provide us feed back on my Notes Page on Facebook.

Prepping For NanoWrimo

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Okay, I have been extremely busy trying to move my writing career forward. I am gearing up for NaNoWrimo which starts on November 1, 2012. It is 30 days of literary abandon where in the end, you write a 50, 000 novel in 30 days. Yes, that is 1668 words per day which is the equivalent of 4 pages, double spaced, at a 12 point font. It is the most frustrating and rewarding challenge for any writer.

I know, it is easy to believe that people will just write crap in order to make the writing word quota. You may be surprised to find that Water for Elephants was written in Nano. See good stuff can come out.

Last year, I completed my second novel, Courting Guinevere, which is due to be released for Valentine’s Day, 2013. This year, I am starting part two of the four part series of the Davonshire family, Loving Words.

Here is the synopsis.

W.E. Devons dedicated much of his life to writing loving words. As the world’s best-selling romance writer, few knew he was a man, a recluse and a tad bit afraid of the world. His brother, who had always been his connection to the outside world, threw a monkey wrench into the idyllic writer’s life by hiring a ghost writer to write Devons autobiography. To avoid his brother’s match-making, he makes a pre-emptive strike and hires his own ghost writer. Elsie is an unassuming, homely woman that matches his passion for literature and the simplicity of a remote life. Although she is dealing with a dark secret of her own, the two learn to trust each other and learn that sharing a life requires more than just loving words.

I am ready to get started and even a bit excited. I am updating my pages and getting ready to roll. This year has been magnificent. I am with a new publisher and things are going well. If you are ready to write or do Nano, here are two wonderful tools, and a book of poetry to help inspire you.


Using My Words

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I am a wordsmith. I like to write. I like a gathering of words. When you are putting words together; you can tell a story. You can evoke a feeling. You can relay an emotion. The reader becomes a part of the plan to excite the mind.

The day seemed far longer than her patience with men. Time had been a cruel friend often forcing her to believe in the impossible when she should have been courting a relational reality with the improbable.

Okay, I am having a pretty great start here. I want to read more and I am the one writing it, but I was playing with my words. I am convinced that the short story is going to make a comeback and people with Nooks & Kindles are going to enjoy the pleasure of reading something quickly.

Sweating bullets took on a new meaning as she searched for the perfect spot to wait, sulk, and mull trajectory angles all the while waiting to eventually take his life. As far as she was concerned, he had not put it to good use and therefore it became her responsibility to end his wastefulness. Say goodnight Dick.

I am enjoying using my words to express Lizzie’s feelings. She is mean, evil and full of anger. It is fun to use my words to create Lizzie’s world. If you are unfamiliar with Lizzie and why she is being hunted, read more about her in The Bounty. You will be able to follow the journey in The Bounty Hunter this summer.