Cécile Coulon is a blonde who pierces the eye as much as the screen. A blonde who shoots the strange. So white that it sometimes turns blue spectrum depending on the light and mood of the girl. If she hadn’t grown up a bit, we would see the kid in the credits of Village of the damned. This angel’s head is haunted, also landed on Earth to put its grain of salt. That explains the precocity that we know about him. Cécile Coulon wrote and published her first novel at the age of 16. Twelve years later, she signs a seventh novel, A beast in paradise, which reaches 70,000 copies in six months. Cécile Coulon has something to disturb. “Yes, I have more ghosts in me than experiences. But if I’m haunted, it’s in the positive sense. I am by the voices, the stories, the landscapes of those who preceded us. I’m leading a herd of ghosts, but they’re not leading me. ” It reassures. “The maturity that I am credited with is due to the fact that I can listen to these voices before and can be silent to write them.” She says that with a small smile, always in the corner. “I smile a lot when I speak, that’s why.” She has two dimples that add to it and carve out a playful face for her, which lights up while she shares her latest find to amuse the gallery of her 16,000 Facebook friends.
The “author” – as she presents herself – has an easy and friendly post as a confinement anti-journal. From his back and forth between his windows and his computer, we can read: “Stop walking your dog, I just saw one more muscular than me!” Or to relay: “I have no chest but right now there are people on the balcony.” She doesn’t have it either. She lives in an apartment on the top floor of a building in Clermont-Ferrand. Without balcony or adjoining garden, but with the possibility of climbing onto the roof. “It is a tiled roof, not at all made for that, but since I have a window that overlooks it, I take advantage of it and it is without risk.” It reassures. “Up there, I find something to breathe, to see somewhere else, I read, it’s nice.” The great outdoors, volcanoes, lakes, biking and running are what he misses most. “But it’s just a big whim when it comes to what cashiers, garbage collectors or hospital staff are going through. I’m so lucky to be here, alone, childless, I mean, without having to take care of anyone other than myself. ” Like her body. Its firm battle silhouette with cravings for “Good wines, good beers and good cheeses”. We learn that “The saint-nectaire freezes very well” in his cooking and containment tips. “I imagine these days people are going back to cooking.” All the more reason to strengthen your daily exercises. It nuances. “I am more worried about the duration of confinement than for my figure. If I do a lot of sport, it’s more to stay in shape and not get out of it completely exhausted and hysterical. ” She practices muscular strengthening exercises without apparatus or dumbbells. One carpet is enough “To prevent the muscles from melting”. She keeps running “Once a week, preferably at night and within a very limited area”.
All around, she knows by heart. This is his land. A full nature “who does not [l’]never scared. “ She never left it. “I never thought about it, even as a teenager!” His baccalaureate in cinema and the khâgne are made in Clermont. “I live in town to be near the train station, for work, but in half an hour I can be at the top of a volcano.” She reassures herself. She assumes this attachment “not fashionable”. She travels little and in France. She doesn’t have a car, favors the train, never the plane “except when [elle est] obligated for work ”. “I have no dreams of distant countries, I am like an animal, like the badger that stays close to its burrow.” Cécile Coulon is not involved anywhere, does not campaign. “Perhaps my commitment is to stay where I am. To feed on it for my fictions, to defend my region, to say how lucky we are to have farms around us, producers who work to sell what we need to take care of ourselves and at lower cost . I campaign by doing my part here to say that the enclave is not an injustice. “
She grew up in Saint-Saturnin, a village at the foot of volcanoes, 25 kilometers from Clermont-Ferrand. She remembers a childhood “heavenly” spent working “Figolu” under the nose of his two big brothers. Her mother, director of the Saint-Nectaire appellation, and her father, an agricultural researcher at INRA, still live in the village. His “job”, as she calls it, to tell stories. She has always read. Fed early on the voices of John Fante, Faulkner, Steinbeck, Bukowski. She discovers Yourcenar and her Flanders, Marie-Hélène Lafon and her Cantal. “Suddenly, I felt less alone. They allowed me to write with my land. “ Cécile Coulon also dares to write and publish poetry. “Not fashionable either, but it is changing. Poetry is particularly deployed on social networks, where it is read and in great demand. ” She has been living from her job since 2013. Since The king is not sleepy, a success “Dizzying” for which she received her first fine copyright check. She is then 23 years old. She buys movies, sneakers, books and a small apartment in Clermont-Ferrand. She goes “eat outside” and reassures: “Since I’m not from Auvergne for nothing, I put the rest aside.”
Cécile Coulon works. The smirk applied, she apologizes for using simple words to say it and gets restless: “Besides the books, nothing happens in my life.” Since it started in a small local publishing house “To the good franquette”, since his revelation with The king is not sleepy at Viviane Hamy’s, she works, infuses, does nothing else. Even on vacation. She takes her manuscript and friends whom she willingly brings to bear. “I spent a studious week with Cécile in her family home in Drôme”, reports Myriam Lépron, a friend who is a university professor. “A week of reading, proofreading, rewriting, walks and swimming.” The author never rejoices for long. “One book is fleeting, and the next one ever played.” His entire body bears the marks. “I often get images of each of my works tattooed to keep track of them.” Whether hoisted or not on her roof, Cécile Coulon contemplates these words which she adores Bernard de Chartres and which she would stick to our skin: “We are dwarves perched on the shoulders of giants.”
June 13, 1990 Birth.
2012 The king is not sleepy.
2017 Three Storm Seasons.
2019 A beast in paradise.
Because of the confinement, the interviews and photos of the last page portrait can be carried out remotely.