Please welcome YA contemporary fantasy author Teshelle Combs. Author of the novel, "Core," Teshelle is one of those crazies who majored in English in college at the University of Central Florida and she daringly works as a full-time writer. Teshelle grew up in the beautiful St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, and currently lives with her composer/voice actor hubby, Nate Combs, and their soon-to-be born baby boy, Jaxter, in Cape Coral, FL.
What was the hardest
part of writing your book?
For me, writing the book was the easiest part. I can usually
start the first chapter and get to “The End” in about a month. Editing takes
the longest. First I rewrite, which includes a lot of hacking and slashing and
burning, then I move on to fine edits and proofreading. I probably edited
“Core” myself six or seven times before I was prepared to send it out.
The hardest part? Fighting through the doubts. Battling
those notions that my work isn’t good enough, that it’ll never be ready, that
my dreams are ridiculous. I think every good writer has these thoughts, but the
most important part is getting past it. And yes, I got past it!
Are you a plotter or
a pantser?
Both! I love researching, so for “Core,” I searched for
information on dragons, sirens, and other mythological creatures. I also
researched the towns that I set the novel in, especially Chimbote, Peru–from
what the air smells like, to the type of animals you might see in the outskirts
of the city, to how long it would take to hike from the coast to Santiago’s
house. I probably still have about 30 pages of research on my computer
somewhere.
But when I start writing my book, I just go for it. It all
comes out in about a month, like my fingers are crazed and just can’t stop
typing. I only come up for air when I’ve got it all down.
What do you hope
readers take with them after reading one of your stories?
If I can do it, you can do it. I’m not a prodigy, not a
genius or a mastermind. I’m just some kid who decided I wanted to write a
story. So I put in the work: I studied, I wrote, I researched, I wrote some
more. And because God is amazing, I did it. I’m an author. I’ve found my dream.
So why can’t you?
Is there a message in
your novel that you want readers to grasp?
I want my readers to remember that love is not always what
we expect. Sometimes it comes suddenly and grows slowly. Sometimes it’s
beautiful and tough and hard to hold on to. But it is always a choice, and,
when it is true and honest, it is always worth it.
Where are you from?
I love my home. I grew up in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands.
It’s beautiful and the air is fresh and cool, even when the sun is hot. When it
rains, the island is covered in clouds. Living in St. Thomas gave me the
inspiration I needed to turn words into stories, to turn ordinary into fantasy.
It will always be a part of who I am, and my home influences every single one
of my stories.
Please share with us
your future projects and upcoming releases.
I’ve just released my debut novel, “Core,” and am still
working on the sequel. I hope to have it ready by June 2014.
Please share any
links you would like listed in the Interview. Website, Myspace, blog, facebook,
yahoo group etc.
Website/blog: http://teshellecombs.com/
Twitter: @TeshelleCombs
Thank you so much for interviewing me, Bernadette Marie! I had so much fun.
My pleasure! And best of luck with your baby!
From the moment
Cale sets his eyes on Ava Johnson, he catches fire to their fates, locking them
both in a wild spiral, tied to a world of betrayal and chaos.
Cale Anders lives
a normal life–as normal as any eighteen year old dragon could hope for. He has
always managed to straddle two worlds, one of underground fight clubs and siren
hunts, and one of family barbecues and backyard football. Still, for as long as
Cale can remember, he’s been the middle man–the ambassador for his own
family–bent on reconciling the stark differences between his fiercely
intelligent blue dragon relatives and the boisterous, passionate red dragon
nesters.
But when Cale
picks the steely-eyed human, Ava, to be his rider, he must choose between the
family he’s always loved, and the only girl who can unlock his potential and
spark his core. Ava, her heart entrapped in a prison of callouses, is caught
off guard by the rawness of the Anders’ life and the honesty of the boy who
claims to belong only to her. But even more alarming than her immersion in a
world she never knew existed, is the realization that love can grow slowly,
steadily, and painfully, no matter how furious her resistance.
Together, Cale
and Ava upturn the balance of the dragon world, leaving their very lives
vulnerable to the wiles of forces neither of them truly understand.
Please enjoy an excerpt from Core.
Core
Chapter One
Her
The crowd pulsed, hands
cupped over their mouths, screaming and stomping their feet against the filthy
floors. The air reeked of sweat and popcorn. In the center of the small
arena was a ring, blue and red ropes boxing in the fighters.
Cale cringed from his
seat in the bleachers as the boxers exchanged blows, the fighter in the red
corner stumbling back a few steps as face and glove connected. Cale had taken his
first hit to the face when he was seven years old. He had been wrestling with
Rory, his older brother, and, completely by accident, had wedged his elbow
right into poor Rory’s eye socket. Instead of running off to tell on his
younger brother, Rory, who was not known for his ability to best his temper,
took retribution by ramming his fist into Cale’s mouth. It was Cale’s first
taste of pain, his first glimpse at the reality of combat.
So, when Cale witnessed
the interchange between the fighters in the center of the ring, he leaned
forward in his seat. A blow to the face was not easily forgiven. He knew that
it made the fighter’s nose throb and that it crippled her pride, because he’d
felt the same.
Cale studied their
techniques, not because he was preparing for a fight himself, and certainly not
because he was a recruiter of any sort, but because he loved the sport of
combat, because he loved the buzz in the air. And because he couldn’t take his
eyes off her.
His brother, Rory had
convinced him to tag along, and Cale had to admit that he hadn’t put up much of
a fight. Amateur boxing was even more fun than the professional bouts. The
fighters were more desperate, less cocky. It always made for a better match.
Cale had been looking forward to a night of entertainment. The last thing he
expected to find was the fighter in the red corner.
The announcer had shouted
her name over the microphone before the match started, but Cale had barely
taken notice, then. As time passed he found himself racking his memory, trying
to recall it.
Ava Johnson.
He hadn’t thought much of
her at first. She didn’t seem familiar or even interesting. He could hardly see
her at all beneath her head gear, and her red gloves hid most of her face.
She’d been well prepared for the fight when they began, her brown skin already
slick with perspiration, her muscles well-toned, her hair braided in cornrows
down her back.
She started the match off
well, landing some early midsection blows, knocking her opponent off her gait.
But it wasn’t until she took her first hit to the face that Cale began to take
notice. Most boxers would have shaken it off, pushed the pain away, pretended
it wasn’t there so they could continue on. But not her. She absorbed it. She
nodded her head and lowered her chin in determination. Ava had embraced the hit
and planned to learn from it. The way she angled herself told Cale she had made
a conscious decision never to let the opponent in that way again. She was
clever.
She was good.
The girl was an artist.
Cale forgot to breathe watching her. The way she moved around the ring reminded
him of a flame, small at first, but spreading itself as it danced, leaving
trails of heat behind it. She circled the other fighter, throwing a jab
whenever she decided to change directions. The blonde-headed opponent caught on
to the pattern and prepared for it, arms poised to strike at the next direction
switch. But Ava Johnson didn’t change directions that time. Instead she kept
moving, landing a clean, strong right into blondie’s jaw when she expected a
quick left instead. The girl crumpled.
Cale could finally get a
good look at Ava when she removed her head gear. He was confused by her
expression as the ref hoisted her arm into the air, signaling a well-earned
victory. She didn’t look pleased. She didn’t look injured, either. Her eyebrows
weren’t pressed together in pain and her mouth didn’t curl in contempt. She
looked…unaffected.
Cale was anything but.
Rory shouted to his buddies, spilling the drink he’d smuggled in to the arena
as he argued over the amounts they’d bet on the match. He stuck his sandy head
in front of Cale’s face and smacked a rough hand against the back of his
younger brother’s neck.
“What a waste of time,”
he said. “Let’s get out of here before I lose everything I own.”
Cale ignored him, trying
to get a better glimpse of Ava. He wanted to see her, wanted to know everything
about her all at once. But Rory impeded his view again.
“Cale, let’s go. What are
you staring at?” He slapped Cale’s cheek a couple of times, but it had little
effect. “What’s wrong with you? Wake up.”
Cale swallowed, but
refused to tear his eyes away from the ring. “That girl,” he said, barely able
to force the words out. His throat tightened. The rush of blood pounded in his
ears.
“What girl? I don’t see
any girl?” As always, Rory was looking for a tight skirt and heels.
“The girl. That one.”
Rory sat down next to him
with a thud, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth, then spitting the
kernels back out onto the floor, as if he’d forgotten he didn’t like the stuff.
He followed Cale’s gaze and wrinkled his nose.
“The one who won the
match? I know,” he said as he shook his head. “She just cost me a hundred
bucks. Could have sworn Blondie had her after she flattened her nose.”
Cale said nothing. He
fought the urge to run to the girl and wrap her up into a hug. He wanted her to
like him, to hug him back, to be close to him. Rory studied his little
brother’s face, then looked back at the girl. Finally, he stopped gorging on
snacks and pointed at her, his face serious, his raised eyebrows hinting at
disbelief.
“That girl? Really?”
Cale nodded his head. He
hardly noticed that he had squeezed all of the drink out of his cup. The brown
liquid pooled beneath his sneakers.
“Oh my god,” Rory said.
“Just like that, huh?”
It took some effort for
him to wrench the crushed paper cup from his little brother’s hand. He tossed
it carelessly over his shoulder. “Go talk to her.”
Cale shook his head,
though it was all he could do to keep from leaping over the bleachers to meet
her. His stomach burned as anticipation boiled up inside him, so much so that
he could have choked on it. It was her. Finally. Already. Her.
“I can’t,” he said.
Rory frowned. “Don’t be
ridiculous. You have to go talk to her. Just go find out who she is, at least.”
“I know who she is.” Ava
Johnson. The fighter. The one.
“Then go talk to her,
Cale, before she leaves.”
“I don’t think I can. I
physically can’t go over there.” Cale swallowed hard, his golden eyes wide, his
dark hair stark against his skin. “What if she hates me? If she hates me, I
think I’ll die, Rory. I’ll die.”
Rory grinned and pulled
him up. At eighteen, Cale was already taller than his older brother, but Rory
had plenty muscle to make up for it, enough to make it a wonder he even had
room for organs. Rory shoved Cale, forcing him to stumble forward a few steps
so that he nearly tripped over the seats in front of him.
“She won’t hate you,
Cale. You’re impossible to hate. Just suck it up and go.”
Cale wasn’t entirely sure
Rory was right as he took deliberate, slow steps toward Ava. I can think of several people that
hate me intensely. He didn’t even have to struggle to picture their
nameless faces. They were the kind of creatures that would give normal people
nightmares. But Cale was far from normal.
It took ages for him to
reach Ava, as though time was against him. He tried to turn back more than once,
but Rory was right behind him, shoving him forward in her direction.
She was stuffing her gear
into a backpack. Her wrists were still wrapped, her hair still in cornrows. No
jewelry, no makeup. Just a bloodied nose and traces of sweat running down her
temples. After a few seconds of Cale silently looming over her, she
straightened up and glared at him.
“What?”
Cale couldn’t find words
that made sense. He was a jumble of energy and anxiety. All at once, he was
sure he would throw up and sure he would break into song and dance. And neither
of those things would Impress Ava.
“You did great tonight,”
he said, almost in a whisper.
She all but scoffed, bending
down to get her backpack. She swung it over her shoulder. “Sure, thanks.”
Rory was wrong. Cale licked his lips, aware of the panic that was setting in.
The little courage he’d mustered left him with each quick breath he took. She hates me.
Ava didn’t smile or take
his hand in hers. She didn’t invite him over or ask to meet his family.
Instead, she made like she was going to leave. Cale reached out to stop her,
almost touching her arm until she jerked it out of his reach, distrust flashing
in her eyes.
She had amazing eyes.
Jade green with flecks of amber red in them. They were focused, unflinching.
Warrior eyes.
“I’m Cale.”
“Okay,” was all she said.
She looked him up and
down, trying to pinpoint his motive for offering his name to her. Then she
turned on her heel and walked right out of the arena. She didn’t even look
back, as though Cale had made no Impression on her whatsoever. No Impression at
all. Rory raced up to Cale with a smile and threw a burly arm over his
shoulder.
“So, how’d it go? Did you
ask her? Did she say yes?”
Not even close. He could barely open his mouth in front of her. But he had
looked her in the eye. And for Cale, that was all it took. He could taste the
fire in his core threatening to break free. He could feel the blood in his veins
begging for just a spark, just a flicker. He opened his mouth to let out the
smoke that was filling his lungs and ignored the white wisps as they
disappeared into the air.
It was as good as done.
He belonged to Ava Johnson. Know it or not, she had herself a dragon.
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