June Giveaways

I'll be giving away some awesomeness in the month of June to celebrate the paperback release of DEAL WITH A DEMON.




10 signed copies up for grabs in a Goodreads giveaway.www.goodreads.com

A gorgeous necklace and signed paperback for a random retweeter who shares one of my release tweets with their followers.
(www.twitter.com/CelesteEaston)




A stunning necklace/pocket watch and signed paperback for a random facebooker who shares one of my release status updates with their friends.
(www.facebook.com/AuthorCelesteEaston)





All giveaways begin June 4th and end June 30th. So add, retweet, and share away!


(Tiny Disclaimer: You must be 18 to enter. Winners chosen at random at my discretion from twitter and facebook. Void where prohibited, etc. etc. etc.)

And Then There Were Books

Holy sh*tballs!

Just found out the print edition of DEAL WITH A DEMON will be out June 4th!!! It's up for pre-order on Amazon:

DEAL WITH A DEMON PAPERBACK EDITION

*gasp*
I so hoped to have more time for promo work, but no. So now I scramble. Visit my twitter page (@CelesteEaston) for details on upcoming giveaways and general shenanigans. I don't know exactly what I'll be giving away, but it will be several somethings, maybe some original artwork of one of my characters. Maybe some super sweet spider jewelry. Maybe a box of confetti.

Blogging Shall Recommence...Nowish

Hello there, my poor neglected blog. I know I owe you an apology for my absence, but I'm not offering one. You'll just have to deal with it. Speaking of deals...

I HAD A BOOK BIRTHDAY!!!

My kindle serial, Deal With A Demon, was released on April 2nd. Amazing. And with the release of each new episode, I get a jolt of pride and accomplishment. I'm humbled by the knowledge that there are people out in the world (strangers even!) who are learning about the characters who have been living inside of my skull for the past couple of years. And liking them. I have to say I didn't always like them--sometimes they were a total pain in my ass. But they were born and will continue to grow, and I hope, hope, hope that they will find a special place in readers' hearts. The past few months of my life have been pure insanity, but every single day I can hop on over to Amazon, type my title in the search box, and have visual proof that I did what I set out to do.
And I'll keep doing it. Over and over and over.

There's also an end in sight to the chaos that is my schedule. My new tattoo shop is 95% done. (She's gorgeous, by the way. A real stunner.) I'm currently working on book two in the demon series. And I'm going to the Romantic Times Booklovers Convention in just a couple of weeks--for the first time as a PUBLISHED AUTHOR.

-->Sidebar: In 2010 I attended my first Romantic Times Convention. I heard about it from a tattoo client who shared my love of romantic fiction. (Holly! I owe you a SERIOUS thank you!) I checked out the website and noticed a Pre-Con Beginner Writer workshop. I took the plunge and signed up. My life was forever changed. Not only did I learn the basics of writing romance, I met some incredible people, including my two critique partners who I'm still critiquing with (and putting tattoos on, but that's another story). I made forever friends and gained a network of mentors. But I didn't just meet new people and learn about writing, I learned how to fill the empty spot in my soul and took the first teeny tiny baby steps toward making a long-held dream a reality.<--

I'm also attending the Romance Writers of America National Conference in July where I'll be SIGNING the PRINT EDITION of Deal With A Demon.

And I promise, my poor neglected blog, I will make time for you.

Something Romance-y

Last time I posted a quick short about an abused woman reclaiming a tattoo from her dead ex-husband. Fun!

I figured this time I would post something romance-y.

I know there are plenty of haters out there, plenty of people who poo-poo on romance for one reason or another. But I LOVE the genre. I love everything about it. I love that there's always (minus the rare exception) a happy ending. I love reading about two or more characters surviving tribulations and falling in love. I love that it can bring a reader joy when they may not have much of it in their life. I love the moody heroes and feisty heroines. I love the adventure. I love...
Well, I love love *grin*

So here's a snippet from something I've been brewing inside my skull:

     Kash Kallmar pushed his way through the crowd along the back of the tent. He didn't want to get too close to the stage. No sense in letting the woman know he had found her. She'd figure it out soon enough.

     The crowd pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, reeking of alcohol-fueled testosterone and sweat. A man to his right mimed a crude gesture with his fist and crotch to the hilarity of his companions. Lights strung along the perimeter of the stretched canvas walls shimmered yellow in the whites of their eyes.

     Music drifted out from behind the stage, volume climbing, filling the thick space above and around the audience. The lights dimmed and darkened.

     His father had told him he'd know her by the pure white eyelashes of her left eye. All he needed was a spotlight's confirmation of her face, and then he'd take her home to their people.

     She appeared from behind the curtain--a shadow, delicious curves--and the men around him bellowed. Her hips and arms swayed to the music as she crossed to the front of the stage.

     A lone light came on, illuminating her back. Her red and black corset laces trailed down to the tops of her fishnet stockings.

    The face, he had to see the face to know for sure.

     But when she spun to face the crowd, Kash forgot why he'd come to the sideshow.

See? Isn't romance fun?

Get Real

Since my last post, I've thought a lot about the content that I'm putting up here and I've come to a conclusion:
Total. Snooze. Fest.
Then I read a revelatory blog about praising people on social media sites without being generic (June 23rd post by Porter Anderson at writerunboxed.com) and had a major DUH moment.
If I want to give people, readers, clients, etc an idea about me as a writer, shouldn't I be writing blog posts AS A F**KING WRITER???
(See? I told you it was a DUH moment.)
So, what am I supposed to do now? Share a story? Post some pictures of what inspires me?
I hear you shouting, "Story! Story!" (I really didn't hear anything. Well, maybe SIX voices shouting)
Okay, but just a quick, creepy one. (**disclaimer: this is a work of fiction** and **don't try this at home** and **these people are fictional**)


Reclamation

     I shifted the shovel to my right hand and peeked over my shoulder again. There weren't any street lights in this neighborhood and clouds covered the silver fingernail moon. The darkness followed along as my steady and consuming accomplice. The whiskey I'd fortified my courage with still coated my throat, but did nothing to warm me. I guess when you're creeping into a cemetery to do what I was about to do, you don't get to be warm.


     He shouldn't have gotten the stupid thing in the first place. We were done. I wanted no part of him, his life, or his future. But he did it anyway. Go fucking figure.

     The street ended in a scraggly, vacant lot, the chain-link fence at its edge my only remaining barrier. Then trees and shadows until I saw the fresh mound of dirt.

     I tossed the duffel bag full of tools over first, and then the shovel. Halfway up, my black pants got snagged and in the process of freeing myself, I felt the unmistakable burn of wire gouging into my calf. Awesome. On the way out, I'd have to make sure I left no DNA behind.

     Of course, I doubted anyone would give a shit about some blood on a fence if I got caught. Nope. They'd have plenty of other stuff to talk about.

     The cemetery wasn't creepy at all--quiet, peaceful, in the way only a place full of dead people could be, I guess. I was in the newest section, the one with the fancy etched-portrait gravestones surrounded by random memorabilia of the person underneath. Showy plastic flower arrangements danced in the wind, a chorus line winging me toward my goal.

     And there it was. In the very back row, isolated from its neighbors and marked by a hump of dirt.

     My ex-husband's final home.

     If someone had been around to see my smile, I'm afraid of how they would've described it. On my face it weighed as much as I would estimate a million dollars in gold might weigh.

     A tattoo. All of this because I was pissed off about the tattoo. Buzzed on Kentucky's finest, dressed in all black, and standing over a fresh grave was about as far removed from being in charge of snacks at the soccer tournament as I could've gotten. What can I say? I'd started a new chapter in my life after I'd finally grown tired of being Mrs. Keeps-Her-Mouth-Shut-And-Lets-Her-Husband-Abuse-Her-In-Every-Way-Possible. And no way in hell was I going to let him take that tattoo with him.

     He'd said he wanted to get it to show me how much he still loved me. Even posted it online to make sure word got around to me that he'd done it. A cliche heart with my name scrolled across it. Like that was going to make all the other shit go away.

     Nope. And as a final fuck you salute to every single connection between the two of us, I was taking that tattoo back.

     I dropped the bag and the implements inside clanged together. A crowbar, my favorite chef's knife, and an empty pickle jar. The handle of the shovel whispered against the palm of my gardening gloves as I got into position.

     "Hi, Christopher." He hated when I used his full name. "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing."



Well, there you are. A writerly post.
Satisfied?
I know I am.

What's Best For Me

I've been enjoying my stay-cation. How am I enjoying it, you ask?

Creating a website (www.celesteeaston.com), pushing traffic through my facebook page (www.facebook.com/AuthorCelesteEaston), and updating all of my online presences accordingly.

Some vacation *hmmph* *pouting*

I really can't complain too much because I've also been re-learning how to be flexible. My new schedule will be totally in flux--tattooing by appointment only, any day, any time, and writing as much as possible. The freedom of this will be something I'm not sure I've ever experienced in my entire life.

Which begs the question--how to stay on track with so much free time? I went from having a very rigid and unforgiving schedule to having NO schedule at all. So, now what?

Well, I'll tell you what.

First of all, although the break was much needed and wholly deserved, I get B-O-R-E-D, BORED. And I'm afraid that the missing rigidity will make me unmotivated and lackadaisical, something I fear more than spiders. *shivers dramatically*

Therefore, to maintain focus and stave off the boredom, I am requiring a minimum level of productivity for each day. I have to spend at least an hour online, cultivating my author brand. (And mind you, not allowing myself to be distracted by the wanton decadence which is the Internet.) I also must keep track of and pursue my tattoo brand, to which I will also dedicate an hour of time. Plus give my utmost best to my tattoo clients when I am in that incarnation. In addition, I will write, write, and WRITE. (And edit when necessary.)

And spend time with my husband.
And see my family.
And catch up with friends.
And whatever else the empty parts of the schedule will allow.

Wait...
I just went full circle, back to the rigid schedule.
Hell, maybe that's what's best for me after all.

Show Them Your War Face

Over the weekend I attended The Reader Author Get Together in Cincinnati. It was my second time and I had so much fun. I also managed to get some work done for my...

AGENT.

That's right. I said, AGENT. I signed with Nalini Akolekar of Spencerhill Associates, Ltd.
*confetti throwing, happy dancing*

And now I have major work to do, but I'm SO ready for the challenge.

I've also decided to change my pen name. That will be a lot more challenging because I have to make the adjustment to every single place online where it appears. (At least in the places I can control.) *groan*

But, again, I'm ready for the challenge.

I go back to tattooing next week and I'm really looking forward to the new environment. I know it will be good for me creatively in BOTH aspects of my life.

So, here's to challenges and facing them head-on. Look them in the eyes and show them your war face.

Show no fear and you shall be rewarded.

Change is Good (a.k.a. Everything Happens for a Reason)

Change is good. And, holy COW, do I have a lot of it going on right now.

One of the biggest changes for me is that, as of May 31st, I will no longer be working at the tattoo shop where I've been for thirteen years, the entire span of my tattoo career. It is sad, but necessary. The time has come to move on. I will be working by appointment only, which will be great because...

I have another huge change coming where my writing is concerned and I'll need more flexibility in my tattoo schedule to accommodate that. Nothing crazy (yet), but I know I'm going to need a lot more time to dedicate to writing. *grinning from ear to ear*

The second part of this post's title, Everything Happens for a Reason, is something I'm living right now. I get this philosophy. I've experienced it in the past. But, in the last couple of weeks, I've had so many small, coincidental things happen that I cannot deny the serendipitous nature of these events. And these happenings have confirmed for me that I am on the right path. And being on the right path links back to the importance of change, which links back to everything happening for a reason, and back and forth in an encompassing circle of awesomeness.

I am typically of the "Change is Bad/Terrifying" mindset, so I've had to make some mental adjustments to compensate. Am I freaked out? YES! I'd be lying if I denied it. Is there a possibility that it will all blow up in my face? Yes. I try not to linger on that question though--too much negativity down that road. Do I have to talk myself out of a panic attack sometimes (like when I think about the last question)? Yes, but I'm getting better at it. A little better every day.

The Importance of Conferences. And Lists.

First, I can't believe I haven't posted here since January. Perhaps that is an indication of just how busy I've been. The tattoo shop has been swamped and my appointments have consistently been booked three weeks out since my last post. I love and hate this time of year.

Second, I just got back from the Romantic Times Booklover's Convention in Chicago. Great times with amazing people--fellow authors AND friends. Networking, socializing, reconnecting, and laughing. Even worked in drinks, deep dish pizza, a trip to the top floor of the Willis Tower (formerly known as the Sears Tower), the tallest building in the western hemisphere, and many rounds of dirty mad libs. Also, some more education about the craft of writing. Whew.

And it reminded me of how important it is for me to attend writer's conferences. Not only does it allow me to connect with people I might not see otherwise, it also renews my determination to become a published writer. And not merely published, but also a better writer and a successful one.

I finished my horror manuscript and am currently in the editing process. I'm still madly in love with the story and my protagonist. Hopefully, the edits won't be a dream crusher.

I return to tattooing tomorrow and my time/life becomes divided again. But I'm making an Every Day List for myself to insure that I squeeze every last drop of juice out of my days.

It's the only way I'll persevere. Plus, sticking to the list will keep me focused and fuel my determination on a daily basis.

Included on the Every Day List:
Blog more often
Allow down time
Don't skip the gym

I'll try to stick to it.

Still Here, More Divided

For those of you following the link from my updated tattoo website (www.tattoosbyceleste.com), welcome! And I just provided a handy little link for those from the other half of my life--the writing half--so that the rest of you can check out the website too. Yay!

I'm sure some of you (Anybody out there? No, probably not.) may notice I haven't posted here for a bit. Call me a slacker if you will, but please know that I'm busy writing things other than blog posts and tattooing until my eyes cross.

It's the beginning of my busy season at the tattoo shop. I go from working eight hours to nine or ten hours (or more) on the days I work. Plus, I juggle drawing up tattoos for my scheduled appointments and handling walk-in clients too. In addition, I have to clean, return calls, answer emails, and shovel snow. All of which makes for mentally exhausting days and nights.

So, I have to stay very focused if I plan to meet my personal deadline for finishing the first draft of my current work in progress. Which is January 31st, by the way. My writing time gets cut in half. Sometimes, it's whittled down to a mere hour per day. The writing is going well and the project is...exhilarating? No, that sounds too, I don't know, joyful. A more apt description would be consuming. The project is consuming and I'm happy to let it eat me alive.

But how to stay on track? How to keep some small kernel of creativity in reserve for those precious writing minutes left to me at the end of the day?

Eliminate any possible distractions.

I've removed every app from my phone which could tempt me into wasting time. Well, not facebook or twitter, but c'mon, those are necessary. Right? Yeah, maybe I should hide those from myself too. Especially twitter. Total time suck. I do, however, make sure to sign out each time I use either one.

My critique partner, Kimberly Meyer, had the brilliant idea to change her passwords on time-sucking sites to things which would prompt her to get back to writing. She's so smart.

I also set a start time for myself. I get an hour to unwind after work. No more, no less. Then, I turn off the television, put on some music, and open the laptop.

The husband is loving enough to allow me the space (and time) I need. He's so smart.

So, I've spent my hour composing this post.

Time to go to work.

Disappointment Can Be Fun

Okay. Confession.

*sigh*

I did not complete NaNoWriMo.

At first, I was upset. Disappointed. Melancholy. Now...not so much.

When I started, I had some grand illusions.

1. This story will be fun.
2. This story will be easy to write. (should have been a pretty clear sign right there)
3. This story will fall in line exactly the way I want it to. (another terrible omen)

Well, since I didn't have an outline to work from or any real clue as to which direction the story was headed, I just let my lead show me his life and, in the process, I saw the hidden strings behind those illusions. Actually, my CHARACTER showed me the strings. He's shown me a lot of things about pantsing too. And thank cheese and rice he did because I am so in love with the story now. Even though it's taken me to some VERY dark and uncomfortable places. *shivers*

So, I guess my point for this post is to not set boundaries on yourself. Or, rather, I won't set limits on myself. (Not that I won't have a daily writing goal. I think those are essential.) I'm just not going to sell my characters, myself, or possible future readers short by leaving stones unturned. There's a dark corner in that basement, and damn it, I'm going to go look and see what atrocities might lurk there...maybe not. Some dark corners are better left in the dark.

And if it takes me more than a month to write it, who cares?

I'm having fun.

Make Words, Don't Label

I have OCD. Well, I've never had a medical professional tell me for certain, but I'm pretty sure the tendencies are there. I use exactly three pumps of soap to wash my hands. Every time. Three. And I count them. Same with swipes of deodorant (twelve), locking the door (two), and handwashing gets a thirty count. I plan. I make lists. I count. I follow routines.
So, naturally, the title, "Plotter," fits me.

At least it did in the beginning.

I'd been stuck trying over and over to write a full-length fiction novel and I couldn't make it happen. Then, in 2010, I had the amazing opportunity to meet one of my favorite authors. I had just learned the terms "Plotter" and "Pantser,"and I asked her which title she claimed. She got a terrible look on her face and said, "Plotter through and through. I lean toward OCD."

And I knew, right then and there, that I was one too.

Yippee! Hooray! I'd found my people.

I embraced my new philosophy and managed to make it through the first manuscript in six months after three years of unsuccessful attempts.
Yes!

But when it came time to write another manuscript, my pantsing critique partners said, "Just try it. You might like it."
And since I consider myself an open minded individual, I did.

*gasp* It worked. I made it through the second MS in under 90 days. Huh.

It was a fluke. Had to be. I COUNT things. I'm a PLOTTER.

Then, I sat down to plot the next project and ran into a wall. I spent three months (I counted) plotting a novel, but when it came time for me to begin, I was blank. I had invented a whole culture of people with a religion, their own language, and a written history. Seriously, I have two binders full of notes. But in the end, the story wouldn't come out.

Why? Because I had wrung the neck of my story, choking and choking it with details until it expired. However, I had to keep writing and forced myself to move on to something else.

Once again I took the advice of my critique partners and, with only a speck of concept in mind, I ran with it. Now, I'm almost 14,000 words in after less than a week and it's amazing. Will I plot in the future? Yes. Some stories have to be handled that way. Will I obsess over the minutia? More than likely, but I will try anything as long as I get it written.

The lesson here, for me at least, is to not put a label on yourself or your technique. Hell, don't even claim one camp or the other. Screw the debates, the theories, the tips, tricks, and utensils. Eat with your fingers. Allow your characters to move and breathe and live without your direction. Let boxes arrive at their doorsteps from unknown senders. Push them off of cliffs and into battles. Give them voices and flaws and annoying quirks like counting how many strokes of deodorant they use. *grin*
Plot it, pants it, do both. Just WRITE.

Follow your characters into the darkness and throw monsters at them.

Among those monsters, you might find a home.

Pay Up, Mothertrucker

First, let me say that I'm only 4000 words behind on my NaNoWriMo schedule. Woo! Not bad considering I only started YESTERDAY. But, the new project is fun--very dark and extra creeptacular. The Story Masters workshop was AH-mazing, insightful, and brain-exploding good fun.

Second, a lesson about paying for a tattoo.

WARNING:
RANT AHEAD
PROCEED WITH CAUTION

My tattoo work is expensive.

Not because I think I'm superior, it's expensive because I'm good at what I do. You aren't just paying for supplies, nitwit. You're also paying for 12+ years of experience, education regarding the prevention of disease transmission, the apprenticeship I bothered to undergo because I refused to be a scum of the earth scratcher, cleaniness, expertise, professionalism, and talent. Not to mention the time I spend on your piece (no matter how big or small) because I actually CARE about my work and the HEART I put into every single tattoo.

I work at a shop that has been in business for 20 years. We've lasted because we have respect for the tradition of tattooing, spend time with you and your design, and generally give a f**k about you and what you are putting on your body FOREVER.

I realize that there are many, MANY shops who would do your tattoo cheaper. Hell, they might even do a decent job.

But DO NOT disrespect me, my passion, my shop, or my integrity by trying to pull off some cheap, flea-market haggle over the price. It makes you look stupid.

And it makes me want to stab you in the face.

Do your g*ddamn research. Look at my work, talk to people I've tattooed, and keep in mind this simple rule that has been around western tattooing since...well, it's been around for a very long time--

CHEAP TATTOOS AREN'T GOOD AND GOOD TATTOOS AREN'T CHEAP.

And you always get what you pay for.

Never Enough Time

I'm headed to Houston on Wednesday for the Story Master's Weekend with the legendary Christopher Vogler, Donald Maass, and James Scott Bell.

So I have a billion and two things to get done before I go. Boring stuff like laundry and packing, but also my prep for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month for those who don't know). And I have tattoos to do tomorrow. Five appointments, back to back, and whatever time left over I have to use to make sure everything at the shop is taken care of for my absence.

Cheese and effing rice, that's not enough time.

I never have enough time.

Managing a busy tattoo shop, balancing quality time with my awesome husband (it's our anniversary today, by the way), trying (and mostly failing) to see my family, and portioning away what little left over time I have for writing?

*sigh* I'm exhausted just typing that.

But there are so many writers in the world who juggle most of that and MORE. Some of them have children too. How do they do it? How can they possibly make all of it happen?

Mad skills.
And a whole lot of discipline.

Skills I got.
Discipline?
Meh, not so much.

I think participating in NaNoWriMo will really help. To save face among my fellow writer buddies and make my goal of 50,000 words by November 30th, I HAVE to stay disciplined. I have to put at least 1700 words on the page every day, which means writing through every available second.

And I will.
Why?

Eyes on the prize, my friends. Eyes on the prize.

Stay tuned this month to see if I'm a good juggler.

Of Course it Hurts

Yesterday, I had the unique privilege of tattooing my husband. I'm sure there are plenty of wives out there who would kill for love to have the opportunity to do this to their beloved spouses. For all the times the laundry didn't make it into the basket. For all the dishes left in the sink. For the countless hours said spouse has spent in front of the television instead of vacuuming. You could have all your revenge fantasies fulfilled in under two hours! Think of the possibilities...

Alas, no matter how often my darling infuriates me, I cannot bear to see him in pain. I actually have to disconnect myself from his suffering in order to perform the task at hand. Which, last night, was a huge tattoo on his side.

He grunted, he groaned, he used several curse words to address the situation. But, he survived. The tattoo looks great too.

This morning, I received a rejection on one of my submissions and it made me again see the similarities between tattooing and writing.

Both of those paths require dedication, hard work, and lots of cursing along the way. When I first started my tattoo apprenticeship, I would get so frustrated and infuriated that I wanted to throw in the towel on MANY occasions. I didn't. I kept my goals in sight, kept my chin up, and persevered.

And although it hurts sometimes to learn an art like tattooing, I refused to be denied. I intend on maintaining the same attitude where writing is concerned.

As for getting tattooed...

YES it hurts. There are needles creating about 1000 holes per minute on the surface of your skin, effectively removing the entire top layer which feels like a 2nd degree burn, but you are left with something amazing as a result.

And rejections?

I grunted, I groaned, and I used some very effective cursing to address the situation.

Yes, rejections hurt too. But in the end, you might end up with something amazing. 

The First Time

When you sit down to get your first tattoo, you might experience any or all of the following:

Hesitation
Nausea
Sweat
Disbelief
Fear
Paranoia
The all-consuming need to run away as fast and far as your shaking knees will allow, leaving a perfect cut-out of your form in the nearest wall, just like in cartoons.

That's almost what I was feeling when I started writing this, my first ever blog post.

But, after many, many tattoos, both on myself and on the thousands of first time customers I've dealt with, I know that the key to overcoming those feelings is to sit down, shut up, and DO IT. Besides, it's only ink.

Well, ink of a very permanent nature. Tattoos are forever. What you say on your skin tells something about you, good or bad, or both.

And a blog?
It's permanent too. Mostly. It will also say something about you, good or bad...or downright ugly.

*nagging butterflies begin to flitter in my gut*

What if I say something wrong? What if my ramblings present a less than flattering image? What if I pass out and pee myself? (Seriously, I had that happen to a customer once.)

*palms sweating*

Before I begin to panic, before I leap from my chair and bust through the wall, I think about what I say to every first time victim customer--

There are only two rules you need to remember:

1. Breathe.
2. Sit still.

So, I did (except for my fingers on the keyboard).

And it felt like someone was slicing me open with a razor wasn't so bad after all.