As we return to the joyous memories of Top Gun, with 2022’s Top Gun: Maverick, there’s been much chatter. We see Goose’s son in the pilot’s seat, callsign “Rooster”; we see the face of the “…One Admiral’s Daughter!”, AKA Penny Benjamin; We don’t see either Charlie or Carole; but new–to me at least–is the idea the Top Gun is a love story between Maverick and Iceman.
What was really new to me was the idea that Derrick and Jago’s relationship echoed that dynamic, especially in Chapter One. Derrick wants to do something and Jago is dominant in his defiance of it. The heat sizzles between the two, as it did on the screen between Cruise and Kilmer.
The fact my guys also go nose-to-nose in the chapter was a nod to the two but Not intentional! I swear! But I did see 86’s Top Gun, have loved it for years, and…writers write what they know. There is, however, another dynamic that’s between my two, and considering my previous history as an author of Erotic m/m romance fiction, it’s no surprise.
The Skylar Temple is a place where m-m intimate contact is allowed–encouraged even–because it forges bonds between warriors. Derrick is polyamorous, generous, and loves two people…yeah, you know where I’m going with this..and Jago is a heteroflexible sexual dominant. Yes, that dynamic and the fallout of it will impact both Derrick and Jago’s aspirations
I’m considering crafting a scene or two of “X-Rated” activities in my Patreon account…once I kick it back into gear. Who knows? Maybe even a menage or two.
There’s definitely sexual power dynamics happening between all four of them. Always has been.
Specifically, the Fifth Island where Derrick begins the ritual Ceremony. Every five years the upcoming adults must engage in this process, where enemies are identified and unbreakable alliances formed. Watching over it all: the Skylar Temple.
Since Derrick is identified as the Promised One, resulting in expectations of this Ceremony to restructure the Septum, he does not walk this path alone. At his side, as he has been the entirety of their lives, is Jago.
Well…not always, now that you mention it….
I present to you Catching Her Balance,Book One of the Skylar series.
Act One, “Things Fall Apart” is now available on both Amazon and Smashwords for $0.99.
Against a sky lightened by dawn’s warm colors rises an ancient stone citadel. Its towers clawed at the departing darkness like arthritic fingers worrying a cloth. Sea birds swarm and shriek nearby, bearing witness to the restless waves’ endless struggle between the building’s foundation and an incoming, inevitable change.
Within, someone at the edge of adulthood races up a long staircase. Leather boots slap across the worn stone while the robe’s fabric snaps. Gazes of the bored sentries standing at wooden doors follow the figure’s rushed journey upward. At the top, the runner pauses to catch his breath and scan the surroundings.
Lush, thick tapestries drape the walls; art objects shimmer atop their pedestals, tickled by torchlight; armed sentries frame an open portal cut into the north wall, which allows a view beyond the citadel’s walls.Another figure, one wearing the armor of a Skylar war master, paces the rocks outside.
Derrick hurries toward Jago.
The guards snap their pikes together and block his path.
He pushes at the blocking weapons. “What are you doing?”
“Pardon, a’Lar, but you are forbidden,” says the guard on the left.
“Forbidden? The White Island has been breached. My family’s territory is under attack.” He again shoves at the weapons. “Step aside!”
“The a’Lar must not be risked.” Left Guard says, refusing to yield.
Derrick struggles against the barrier of weapons, which results in one flailing hand making contact with a translucent barrier. A flash of blinding magic lights the area but the barrier does not fall. He realizes, uncomfortably, that magical protections have been put in place to prevent his passage.
Frustrated, he resigns himself to watching his lifelong friend do what he cannot.
And Jago isn’t happy.
The constant wind whips across the outside area, cleaning the rock and tugging at the red rope around his waist. He faces a trio of magi standing near the portal, their hands shoved inside the bell-like sleeves of their robes of green and brown.
His angry voice cracks across the early morning stillness. “Whadda you mean ‘no’? The island is Vittalar land.”
“The Prophecy rises,” says one cadaver-thin mage.
Jago gives a rude, dismissive gesture. “Then Derrick should be hip deep in this shit, no?”
“Skylar defends Vittalar. Always.” This is the shorter of the two.
Beyond, the bridled head of a Skylar war hawk rises into view as it searches for her usual rider. A hard, impatient peck slices away a sliver of stone from the platform. Jago twists away and faces the restless Regent. He floats a whistle across the area, asking her for patient obedience. The response is a rising three-note chirp.
When Jago turns back around there are now four magi.
The newcomer standing in front of Jago is Skylar’s Grandmaster.
“Enough,” says he. “Your magic has pierced the wards those many times you two went skylarking over the island. There is no need for the a’Lar’s presence.”
Jago knows better than to address that subject.
The Grandmaster makes a sweeping gesture. “The White Island is under assault and decades of Vittalar authority requires that area to be untouched. Your magic is the key. You’re needed aloft. Fly, Jago. Fly.”
Obedient to the directive, Jago sprints away. He leaps from the rock ledge and onto the bird. There, he yanks free the bottom edge of his rope belt from his waist and, with a quick twist, loops it around the saddle’s horn. Magic flares, securing him in place.
Regent makes a raspy shriek and spreads her wings, disturbing the crowd below.
Jago takes up the guiding leathers. “Regent, my beauty. Up! Up!”
Grooms crouch against the sweep of air brought by beating wings as the war hawk takes flight. The citadel’s courtyard drops away as the bird and rider rise into the brightening sky. Higher, higher, higher…until the spires of the tall temple are but thin shadows upon the ground.
Ahead, a teleportation portal spins into existence.
Jago flips the reins and directs the bird. Regent pierces the portal like an arrow launched toward a bullseye. Below and inside the citadel, Derrick watches the portal swirl close on the heels of the two.
Tasting defeat, he leaves the area and travels deeper into the temple’s halls to eventually join Skylar’s Grandmaster in the viewing room. There he sees a quartet of magi who’ve formed a ring around a large crystal orb bathed in the dawn’s golden glow. Or perhaps it radiated the glow. Either way, golden light bathes the watchers.
Another stands near but not part of the circle, one draped in rich, lush fabric that’s not of the temple. Clearly, a lord from somewhere which is not the norm for their culture. This is Falcon, Lord of Hawhurst who gifts the Temple with the majestic war hawks.
Derrick is spotted and the Grandmaster nods a greeting. “Welcome a’Lar.”
Within the orb a picture forms. It’s Jago atop Regent, aggressively swooping through the air near where ships have been anchored close to shore.
Derrick wants answers not greetings. “Why was I—is that the White Island?”
“The wards signaled a breach. Immediate action was required. Jago can slide past the wards, as you both know.”
Derrick avoids the latter part of the comment. “Why was I forbidden to ride a bird?”
“You cannot be risked.”
“Then why am I always here?”
Derrick’s attention if pulled the the viewing orb where Jago and Regent can be seen looping through the sky. Surprisingly, there’s an aggressive response from below which isn’t the norm. Jago’s hands are wrapped in the blue fire of his magic and he’s lobbing balls of magic fire at the attacking ships.
The Grandmaster leans closer, peering intently at the scene.
“I don’t identify that sail emblem,” he mutters, almost to himself, “but I do recognize the craft. They’re from a Septum shipyard.”
Astonishing! “Who would dare? That’s my family’s lands.”
Suddenly shoreline rocks animate and form into knee-high, four-legged creatures…who surge toward people exiting tender boats that had come ashore. An angry wave of aggression that falls upon the sailors who’ve crossed the sands…who die beneath the swarm
Jago’s position aloft changes and his magic leaps from his hands to the shore, laying out a protective sheet of power between the attacking hoard and the sailors. He tosses balls of magic fire at the tender boats which had come ashore.
Not at the people, no, but at the sand, driving the people back toward the ocean.
Foul green magic is launched from one of the anchored boats and wraps Jago and his bird. Regent twists and her beak opens in a silent scream. Lord Hawkhurst hisses his displeasure.Skylar magic reacts and recalls Jago back to the citadel with an opened teleportation disk and the two sucked into it with a thunderbolt of light.
Into the Halls of the Self-Published I go. Truthfully, that isn’t where I wanted to be. Not that it’s negative–absolutely not!–but I’m the author. I write. This marketing thing is so confusing….
Anyway, It’s up on Smashwords as well as Amazon. Smashwords pays monthly and Amazon pays quarterly. New way of looking at my life. Hey, ch-ch-changes. Like I said…
Anyway, I adore the cover. Yeah. That Derrick his hot, hot, hot! No? Sure, he looks older than the manuscript but I’d bought the cover before I set to writing. It was too good to pass up.
Let’s be honest. Eye candy makes for a good presenataion of the story. Think I’m lying? I’ll direct your attention to….
(yes, he’s wearing pants. You can see the edge atop the A)
Good times.
What isn’t so good? FACEBOOK!
They made some “upgrades” and now I only have access to one of my pages. I can post to one and the other one reflects that post but doesn’t allow me to do anything with it. Sooo vexing.
I’m guessing it’s because of of Whazzizname’s product “Meta” since now there’s icons everywhere for it.
Inescapable
Or maybe it’s me.
Yanno? “Problem Exists Between Keyboard and Chair.”
Act One loading onto Smashwords went smoothly and–BEST OF ALL–I was able to priceCATCHING HER BALANCE: Things Fall Apart for the promised $.99 cents. Weeeeee!!!
I spent the last two days–literally, almost fell asleep on the keyboard yesterday–preparing CATCHING HER BALANCE: Things Fall Apart for Amazon’s Kindle Direct.
Man, what a journey!
Cover? Check
Marketing blurb? Check
Content editing? Check
Proofreading? I think I did that properly… Remember, I failed my Grammar Class. Twice.
The minimum price I could get was $2.99. Sorry.
Anyway, I clicked buttons and:
Sure, it’s not St. Crispin’s Day but…“Once more into the Breach!” (Henry V, Shakespeare).
Is such a thing possible? Turns out, yeah. Very possible, and here I give a shout out to another one of my esteemed Seton Hill Professors, this one Scott A. Johnson. Imagine what it must have been like for him having a romance novelist in his Horror class.
Me: OMG, Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!
He: *sigh*
Still, I learned a lot from him about a genre I never really spent any time in. (I didn’t realize that Ghost Stories were a morality tale. Did you?) Amusingly enough, I also went to Elementary School with Horror author Staci Layne Wilson back in Lake View Terrace, CA.
She came to me and said “Want to be a part of an Anthology?” I said “sure” and BOOM, I had a short in her Rock & Roll Nightmares: Gory Days. Mine is the one titled “Bite it Out,” if you’re interested, and it’s fashioned on Benatar’s 80s Fight It Out song.
She asked and I didn’t hesitate. I mean, I had Scott’s information poured into my skull and Staci’s editing pen to make sure I didn’t embarrass myself too much, as well as all the pressure of an MFA “Writing Popular Fiction” degree to learn how to actually craft a story, short or otherwise. So, I wrote it, off it went, and hopefully I did both Scott and Staci proud.
But that isn’t my only journey into Horror. Currently I’m pitching a Light Horror–read Scooby Doo style–episodic TV show for streaming. (Streaming is the new wave of Entertainment, yanno.) I thought to use my knowlege of literature to bring forth the monsters of old. I mean, for this person there’s nothing more horrifying than 17th Century Literature. #just saying
Late last night–Midnight, actually. Apropos, no?–I received feedback on my project. No, not yet an offer for The Harkening but remember, this is just my second foray into Horror and only now is Hollywood opening itself back up to new ideas. (2021 – ’22 they were playing “catch up.” Returning staff from COVID seclusion to finish up projects, and all that sort of stuff.)
Here’s what they said:
My Mom says “Well, are they gonna take it?” and I’m like, “Mom, Mom, I’m the author. I’m not the producer. I don’t deal with the money.” Who knows? Maybe someone will option it. Maybe it’ll sit in Production Hell for decades, never seeing the light of day. Or maybe it will Stream for someone. Who knows?
Me? I’m probably going to take the ideas, toss them into short stories, and make them available for my Dollar Dreadfuls line. I mean, $.99 cents for a Light Horror romp. Would could go wrong? At least I’ll be keeping myself out of trouble…
At one of my Seton Hill residencies–yes, I’m a WPF SHU alumni. My condolences–I sat and listened to Prof Michael Arnzen, three-time winner of the Bram Stoker Award, discuss an amazing book by Thomas Harris titled Silence of the Lambs.
Sure, we all remember Sir Anthony Hopkins doing the Hannibal hiss when discussing a good dinner.
(Creepy? Yeah. Unforgettable? True.)
However, we students of Writing Popular Fiction were focused on how Thomas handled the prose. Specifically, his POV. Why? because he occassionally changed it IN MID-SENTENCE. We all wanted to be that good. We all dreamed of being that good. I, however, went to work learning how.
I confess to not (yet) having mastered the skill to that level but I did get myself to the point where I could change point of view in a scene–hopefully without have the reader experiencing a speed bump that threw them out of the story.
Remember Omnescent POV allowing for a bird’s eye view but ALSO: the narrator may occasionally access the consciousness of a few or many different characters? Remember also that I promised it in scenes of intimacy? Here’s an example:
Now, unless I’ve foolishly and publically embarrased myself, we can see two POV shifts. First Omni–to 3rd–then back to Omni. We do this by following the verb tenses. He “snaps his fingers” is Present but the “threw” is Past Tense/3rd, then back again to Omi present with “looking down into”.
Smooth, like softened butter. In and out of Derrick’s consciousness with little more than an exhalation.
Sorry for the grammar lesson and hopefully I’ve finally done my Grammar teacher W.H. Horner proud. (Yeah, I twice failed that class at Seton Hill. Not gonna lie.)
One of the biggest issues I had with previous incarnation with the Skylar books, first with Book One, Catching Her Balance, was where to start. No, seriously. I keep having to back up and back up and back up. I resisted hard because I specifically wanted to avoid YA. Why? It’s not my jam. Personally, I’m no friend of Mouthy Teenagers. (I both raised one and was one. You understand…)
Frequently, the insulting portrayal of adults in YA–folks going to work, paying bills, feeding and clothing these kids while being treated like Useful Idiots by said protagonists [The Reichs’ Virals comes to mind]–is not something I will ever support.
That’s Ageism and I don’t support -isms in any form.
So, I struggled but in the end, Balance keep pushing me to go backward to the starting point. It was different since the four knew each other since childhood, sometimes intimately. Then FINALLY, the needed change. A category called New Adult hit the shelves.
Here’s what Wiki says:
What that meant was that FINALLY there was a place for Balance since it did not include mouthy, over-privileged Teens pushing at Useful Idiots (AKA adults). This allowed for an actual coming of age in that childhood is forever left behind. My country calls that “college” but Skylar calls it “Ceremony.” Okay, yeah, I did fold in the Obligatory Prom Scene–useful, I’ll admit–but in mine? MURDERS AND A VIOLENT REBELLION.
The New Adult genre is a reflection of the moment when a person is old enough to go to war but not old enough to buy a pack of smokes. Or, old enough to vote but not old enough to drink a beer. In my country, this is an unstable time in every person’s life
THAT was exactly where I wanted Balance to be
More, Pops or Mummy aren’t going to show up and handle things like lawsuits, police action, and bills for these individuals. Just like in adulthood, Balance’s culture–The Five Islands–has adult expectations, actions, and forever consequence to said choices.
In my Skylar books, they’re crafting their future.
The choices they make will echo for decades.
I know I’ve tried to explain the genre as I see it, and how it impacts the story narrative, but where’s what Google says:
Let’s talk Point of View (POV), which is cinematography for books. I bring this up because that was the biggest conflict for my Skylar book[s] when it/they were in print. I wanted to craft a Romance novel, which is usually 3rd Subjective–AKA Third Limited–but it never laid down seamlessly. There was always a bit of restless agitation, at least that was my opinion.
Why? Well, in Romance we must be in the head of the romanced character–seeing, feeling, experiencing all. Sounds cool, eh? Sure…except there’s FOUR PEOPLE IN MY SKYLAR STORIES AT ALL TIMES. That’s not optimal for 3rd.
So, with four characters on the page–Four PRIMARY characters ALWAYS in action–3rd kept pushing me toward “head hopping”–a cardinal sin–or minimizing the characters on the page–a violation of the narrative.
I tried, and I tried, and tried…but no.
So, I had to pull my brain away from what I was familiar with and use a POV uncommon in Popular Fiction: omnescent. But I like learning new things, and achieving new things, so I had a go at it. Here’s what Omni means for me, the author.
That’s the reason why this excerpt of Catching Her Balance feels different than when it was once shelved with Amber Quill Books . I am able to deliver a bird’s eye view of the scene and action, as well as the internal/external conflicts, while also being allowed to slip into 3rd subjective when needed. (Scenes of intimacy, which there will be.)
Anyway, as my Seton Hill WPF Prof, Timons Esaias, once told me: GO FORTH AND CONQUOR
With all this COVID stuff happening, the industry has changed and I’ve been riding that wave. My CATCHING HER BALANCE has been moving forward–glacier slow is Hollywood–for a Streaming Limited Series. What’s this? Yeah, I’m shocked as well. But, hey. When someone throws you a ball then you run with it, yeah?
Anyway, that brings us to today. I changed the name of the website to reflect the pen name of my books that I’m crafting of that Limited Series. I thought I’d push them out here, and on Amazon and Smashwords, to see if the idea “had any legs.”
So, I present to you the first blush of my Skylar series, starring Derrick and Jago, Jenna and Sylvett. Same people; different landscape. What do I mean? Where they were once in their mid 20 – 30s, they’re now New Adults (18 – 21). Also, where they once starred in a Space Opera, they are now in a Fantasy Sword and Sorcery Coming-of-Age story. Never fear, there will be adult content. I hope you like it and are willing to join me on this journey
Here’s a hint of Act one which the full will be uploaded soon
Prologue
Against a sky lightened by dawn’s warm colors rises an ancient stone citadel. Its towers clawed at the departing darkness like arthritic fingers worrying a cloth. Sea birds swarm and shriek nearby, bearing witness to the restless waves’ endless struggle between the building’s foundation and an incoming, inevitable change.
Within, someone at the edge of adulthood races up a long staircase. Leather boots slap across the worn stone while the robe’s fabric snaps. Gazes of the bored sentries standing at wooden doors follow the figure’s rushed journey upward. At the top, the runner pauses to catch his breath and scan the surroundings.
Lush, thick tapestries drape the walls; art objects shimmer stop their pedestals, tickled by torchlight; armed sentries frame an open portal is cut into the north wall, which allows a view beyond the citadel’s walls. Another figure, one wearing the armor of a Skylar war master, paces the rocks outside.
Derrick hurries toward Jago.
The guards snap their pikes together and block his path.
He pushes at the blocking weapons. “What are you doing?”
“Pardon, a’Lar, but you are forbidden,” says the guard on the left.
“Forbidden? The White Island has been breached. My family’s territory is under attack.” He again shoves at the weapons. “Step aside!”
“The a’Lar must not be risked.” Left Guard says, refusing to yield.
Derrick’s struggles against the barrier of weapons, which results in one flailing hand making contact with a translucent barrier. A flash of blinding magic lights the area but the barrier does not fall. He realizes, uncomfortably, that magical protections have been put in place to prevent his passage.
Frustrated, he resigns himself to watching his lifelong friend do what he cannot.
And Jago isn’t happy.
The constant wind whips across the outside area, cleaning the rock and tugging at the red rope around his waist. He faces a trio of magi standing near the portal, their hands shoved inside the bell-like sleeves of their robes of green and brown.
His angry voice cracks across the early morning stillness. “Whadda you mean ‘no’? The island is Vittalar land.”
“The Prophecy rises,” says one cadaver-thin mage.
Jago gives a rude, dismissive gesture. “Then Derrick should be hip deep in this shit, no?”
“Skylar defends Vittalar. Always.” This from the shorter of the two.
Beyond, the bridled head of a Skylar war hawk rises into view as it searches for her usual rider. A hard, impatient peck slices away a sliver of stone from the platform. Jago twists away and faces the restless Regent. He floats a whistle across the area, asking her for patient obedience. The response is a rising three-note chirp.
When Jago turns back around there are now four magi.
The newcomer standing in front of Jago is Skylar’s Grandmaster….
Stay tuned to Amazon and Smashwords for the rest of Act One of Book One.
B. Thatcher 