I read through Ghosts of Ancient Vidura (AjJivadi: Book 2) — confirmed it’s the direct sequel to Elbert, following the same disclosure-era storyline: hidden alien history, age-reversal tech, the maroli (spirit-possessed biotech), USAF/government entanglement, and an ancient extraterrestrial civilization on Vidura, all wrapped in your usual domestic, multigenerational, faith-adjacent tone.
Here’s where I’d place it on KDP as of the current (2026) category structure. KDP now lets you select 3 browse categories per format directly in the dashboard.
Elbert needs a somewhat different KDP strategy from Maroli Tango. Its strongest commercial identity is historical/secret-history science fiction that grows into interplanetary political adventure.
The opening is firmly planted in 1928 South Dakota, with Elbert an 83-year-old physician and Civil War veteran. The initiating revelation is that extraterrestrial Anye have been quietly living and vacationing on Earth for millennia, hidden behind Sasquatch/Bigfoot/Wendigo folklore. By Act 2 the family is traveling to Jivada; by later acts Elbert is involved in assassination attempts, economic conspiracy, political rebellion, spacecraft, and interplanetary government. And the age-reversal premise pays off explicitly: by 1934, eighty-nine-year-old Elbert appears to be about forty.
Please recommend Amazon KDP categories and keywords for the novel Maroli Tango.
ChatGPT replied:
For Maroli Tango, I would position it as adult first-contact science fiction with political-fiction crossover, not as military SF and not as YA. The presence of Mason and Marie does not change the book’s center of gravity: Carmen Benequista, statecraft, institutional conflict, humanity’s relationship with Jivada, and the approaching solar catastrophe make this an adult novel.
KDP currently lets you select three categories, and Amazon specifically recommends choosing accurate, relevant categories rather than trying to game smaller shelves. Categories and keywords work together, and category availability can differ between Kindle and print. (Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing)
Maroli Tango is science fiction built on an unusually ambitious proposition: what if first contact happened thousands of years ago, the aliens never really left, and humanity reached the twenty-first century without realizing how deeply its history had already been entangled with theirs?
That premise could have produced a conventional secret-history thriller. It does not.
Instead, Maroli Tango becomes a story about sovereignty, dependency, trust, family, faith, technology, and the uncomfortable difference between being rescued and being worthy of partnership.
The immediate problem is enormous. In 2041, the Sun is approaching a river of interstellar gas capable of fueling an extinction-scale solar event. Humanity’s technologically superior neighbors know what is coming. They possess tools that could transform Earth’s chances of survival.
Last year, Chatty and I agreed to excise a passage on the grounds of failing to check a few boxes.
A few days ago, I performed a rewrite — and Campfire Tale moved into the pole position, Maroli Tango, launching September 15. Curious to know what the robot would think about it, I asked.
ChatGPT replied:
Yes. I think you were right to put Chapter 0 back.
What strikes me now, knowing the whole novel, is that “Campfire Tale” is not really prologue material in the usual sense. It is a statement of method. It tells the reader how to read Maroli Tango.
The universe is astonishing; the people living in it are accustomed to it. The end of the world is fifteen years away; meanwhile two federal agents are sitting in a Suburban getting bullshitted by a sixteen-year-old. Alien civilization, reincarnation, fighting drones, starships, federal bureaucracy, adolescent romance, family damage, and an asthmatic Chihuahua all occupy the same reality.
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At a research lab on a distant planet, a devastating accident signals the end of a technological impasse that has stalled Anye civilization at the edge of space for a thousand years. Protected in a vault, instruments reveal the true nature of space, time, and matter. The event has set physicist Rivan Saraf on a path that could take his people beyond reach of a dying star. But a hostile foreign government has agents in town. The Vanya are brutal, remorseless — here to spy, steal, kidnap and murder. And Rivan Saraf is on their list.
On the third leg of my ChatGPT conversation, I uploaded 20 Maroli Tango chapter illustrations.
See below: 9 of 20. Chatty has assumed we’re making our video the same length as the song. We will get past that.
ChatGPT replied:
This is a very strong first pass. More importantly, it answers a question we hadn’t settled yet: the video does not need much additional artwork. You already have enough emotional and visual range to carry the song.
What I like most is that the catalog isn’t merely “pretty chapter pictures.” It has a progression from courtship and family comedy through enormous science-fiction stakes and back to intimacy. That is exactly what this song needs.
I would think of the catalog in four families.
Function
Particularly strong frames
Primary romance
Christmas dance; Carmen/Brandon at the illuminated mountainside city; sunset balcony ensemble
Young romance
galley/“Gravity is ON”; kitchen almost-kiss; orbital proposal; corridor kiss; bedroom-with-dog
Wonderful strange world
arriving at the coastal estate; Maroli in the library; grotto/pool Maroli; road trip; enormous island/structure
Stakes / authority
Carmen before the micro-nova briefing; tie-adjustment scene; flight-hangar material
Several are obvious hero frames
The Christmas dance is probably our most valuable Carmen/Brandon animation candidate. It already contains everything PAI needs: hands joined, Carmen looking directly at Brandon, Brandon looking downward, background dancers, Christmas lights. A tiny sequence—he raises his eyes, she smiles, their bodies begin a slow turn—would buy us far more than four seconds of spacecraft animation.
The orbital proposal is another. Their faces are already close, the ring box establishes the action, Earth is right behind them. It practically animates itself. I would not ask for a kiss. Something as little as her leaning another inch closer, his expression breaking into a grin, and the station drifting outside the window could be beautiful.
The Carmen/Brandon mountainside-city frame is one of the best still images in the set. Ironically, I wouldn’t necessarily spend PAI money on it. A slow editorial push-in with a little parallax could be enough. The scenery already supplies motion psychologically.
The micro-nova auditorium is important because it prevents the video from becoming merely a romantic scrapbook. One 2–3 second appearance of Carmen walking through that room tells us: Oh. She has a job, and apparently the job is saving civilization. The cheerful song playing over it makes the juxtaposition better.
And the giant coastal structure at the end is a terrific scale shot. That is the sort of image I’d use late, probably during the final musical run—not as the ending itself.
The comedy is much more valuable than I expected
The dachshund/golf-cart picture is gold.
So is “Gravity is ON.”
So are the dog images generally.
They give the song permission to be Hall & Oates. Without those, the stately costumes, palaces, uniforms and existential danger could make the edit feel too reverent. These pictures say, yes, this universe is enormous; people still have dogs and embarrass themselves.
I would absolutely include the golf-cart image, perhaps for only one or two seconds. It doesn’t need animation at all. Drop it precisely on a musical accent and get out.
Likewise, the road-trip image with the dog between the two aliens is excellent montage material. It expands the universe while remaining utterly ordinary.
You also have a nice recurring motif
I hadn’t appreciated this until seeing the images together:
touch.
Hands joined dancing. Woman’s hand on a shoulder. Hands held on the balcony. Tie being straightened. Near-kiss. Ring offered. Kiss. Embrace. Dog being petted.
That’s a visual motif we should exploit deliberately. The song is about someone transforming ordinary existence through affection, and your illustrations repeatedly communicate intimacy through hands rather than grand romantic gestures.
We could cut several of those together almost as match cuts.
One production issue: aspect ratio
The first few images are portrait-format while much of the later material is landscape.
That is manageable, but we should settle on 16:9 landscape for the finished video before spending any PAI credits.
For the vertical frames, I would not simply pillarbox them. We can:
crop them into medium shots;
use a slow vertical pan;
occasionally use a moving enlargement of one portion of the composition;
or, for an especially important PAI candidate like the Christmas dance, create a 16:9 extended start frame first.
That last option might be worthwhile for the dance because the background ballroom is easy territory for image extension.
The stylistic variation doesn’t bother me
Some frames are very photographic, some more painterly, and the sepia café image is substantially different.
Normally that would concern me. Here I think it can work if we make it intentional.
The sepia café picture in particular reads almost like memory or family history. I wouldn’t try to disguise that. Give it a brief appearance as a visual aside, perhaps paired with another historical-feeling image.
Group related aesthetics into little runs and the viewer will accept them as deliberate changes of register.
I would revise our PAI budget already
Seeing these, I don’t think we need nine animations.
I would initially reserve credits for only about six:
Christmas dance — 5 sec
Young couple playful galley scene — 4 sec
Orbital proposal — 5 sec
Maroli movement — 4 sec
One spectacular vehicle/world-motion shot — 5 sec
Final emotional character shot — 5 sec
That’s only about 28 seconds committed.
Keep 12 seconds in reserve.
That’s important because once we assemble a rough music edit from stills, it will reveal exactly where the video feels dead. Then we spend the remaining PAI credits on the gaps rather than guessing now.
And quite a few of these frames don’t need generative animation at all. The sunset balcony, the giant structure, Carmen before the briefing, the embrace, the bedroom, the dogs—musical editing and a subtle push or pan will do most of the work.
One thing I would change from my earlier concept
I previously imagined Carmen/Brandon as the clear spine with Mason/Marie as a secondary mirror.
Looking at this catalog, I think the video can be more ensemble-romantic than that.
Carmen and Brandon still give it thematic authority, but the visual thesis now looks more like:
Everybody has somebody. Everybody has somewhere they belong. This ridiculous universe is worth keeping.
That gives us permission to jump among generations, species, relationships, families, dogs, Maroli and enormous machines without the viewer needing to know the plot.
And that is an excellent fit for You Make My Dreams.
I would call this catalog well beyond proof-of-concept. We now have enough material to start an actual edit map rather than continuing to collect indiscriminately. The next useful pass is to number these twenty frames in their current order and assign each HERO / SUPPORT / COMIC / STAKES / WORLD / HOLD, then begin arranging them against the song structure.
Okay, audience — Let’s talk about how long this video ought to be. Tell us in the comments.
When I tabled the fourth of nine Anye Universe novels to outline the seventh, I had no idea I would keep going — and set Vacuum Forged aside for seven years.
I returned to the middle trilogy uncertain of my intentions — 80,000 words in, having written treatments for volumes five and six, so I would know where I was going with four.
Seven novels in thirteen years. Maybe I should do something else with whatever time I have left.
But then I read this.
Svami Reva lounged in a recliner across the room, poking fingers at the augmented reality space. He acknowledged their arrival without looking. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Maybe.” Suban addressed the prisoner in Low Desert. “Does it seem odd to you that we took the language of our Manu conquerors, called it the Noble Tongue, pretending it was our own when everyone knew it was not? You’d think our people had no shame.”
The man kept his eyes down. Suban dragged a chair over. “You should be afraid of me. Do you know what I am?”
That provoked a response. “A policeman. Zirna Zapha. What else?”
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