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.
I am prototyping in Capcut, after finding DaVinci too feature-rich for this project. See the attachment. Clip lengths are typically 4 seconds. I would add effects to the stills, except Capcut demands a pro subscription for every effect I’ve tried.
Maroli Tango Showreel ~ First cut
ChatGPT replied:
I watched the 43.8-second prototype. It is already answering an important question: the concept works without elaborate effects. The switch between genuinely moving material and strong chapter illustrations does not bother me. What makes the stills feel like stills is not the absence of flashy effects; it is simply the absence of camera motion.
The opening is particularly good. Holding the floating estate through roughly the first 8 seconds gives the instrumental intro its own visual idea, and then the first character image arrives as the song becomes human. I would keep that basic logic. Later, the long estate-motion section around 22–32 seconds gives the eye a useful reset before returning to characters.
I would not buy CapCut Pro merely for effects. For this project, most of the effects it is trying to sell you would probably cheapen the material anyway. What we want is ordinary cinematography: push in, pull back, pan, reframe.
You can do that with free keyframes
On a still in CapCut Desktop, select the clip and use the diamond keyframe controls beside Scale and Position in the Video/Basic transform controls. Put a keyframe at the beginning, move to the end of the four-second clip, change the scale or position, and CapCut interpolates the move.
For this material I would use only about four moves:
Slow push-in: start at the normal crop and end about 6–10% tighter. Best for faces and intimate scenes.
Slow pull-back: begin fairly tight and reveal the environment. Good for the fantastic-world images.
Lateral reveal: keep scale essentially fixed and slide the frame slowly sideways. Very useful because we’re converting wide chapter art to 9:16.
Two-shot pan: deliberately travel from one character/group to another. Use this sparingly when the original wide image actually contains two visual beats.
No preset animation or “effect” is needed.
The Carmen/Brandon dance in your prototype, for example, wants a very small push toward their faces. The party image immediately after it could begin on the young couple and drift toward the Anye woman. The city-at-night Carmen/Brandon shot near 33 seconds could begin slightly wider and creep inward. The Gravity is ON image is almost made for a slight upward move from the sign toward their faces.
There is another free trick I like even better
Cut one still into two shots.
Instead of four seconds of continuous zoom, duplicate the image:
2.0 sec: medium composition 2.0 sec: hard cut to a tighter crop
That creates synthetic “coverage” from one illustration. On this Hall & Oates track, a punch-in on a musical accent can look much more intentional than a fancy transition.
For a landscape frame converted to vertical, we can also do:
2 sec: crop on character A 2 sec: cut to character B 2 sec: wider environmental crop
One illustration has suddenly supplied three shots.
I would mostly use hard cuts
The music is rhythmic enough to carry them. Fancy wipes, zoom transitions, light leaks and so forth aren’t necessary. In fact, the polished cinematic artwork benefits from plain editing.
A few dissolves may be useful for quieter affectionate material, but even those can be made manually with opacity keyframes if CapCut decides to put the transition you want behind Pro.
Your four-second default is good—but vary it
At 3:07, a rigid four-second cadence would give us about 47 shots. That’s actually close to the amount of material we have, but I wouldn’t let it become clockwork.
I would use roughly:
3–5 seconds for most stills 5–8 seconds for particularly good motion clips 1.5–2.5 seconds for comic/detail inserts 8 seconds occasionally when the music itself gives us a natural sustained passage, as your opening does
That creates apparent acceleration and deceleration without needing effects.
The current prototype illustrates this nicely. The cuts I see are approximately 8.2, 12.3, 16.3, 21.8, 31.8, 34.8, 37.8 and 42.9 seconds. The later sequence naturally becomes quicker. That’s much better than forcing every shot to four seconds.
One adjustment I’d make now
The roughly 10-second moving-estate passage at 21.8–31.8 is beautiful, but in the finished piece I suspect we’ll want either:
two different excerpts from that motion source with another image between them, or
about 6 seconds instead of 10.
Not because the shot isn’t good, but because an audience starts learning that “moving environment = wait here awhile.” We want motion clips to feel like little rewards that keep arriving unexpectedly.
The 8-second opening is different: it has the special job of introducing the entire universe.
So at this stage I would make the production rule:
Motion clips get actual motion. Stills get camera motion. Effects are optional.
That lets CapCut remain essentially a free assembly tool while preserving the visual quality of the illustrations.
And this prototype makes me more confident about the full 3:07 version than I was from the storyboard alone. It doesn’t look like a slideshow with video clips inserted. With subtle keyframing on the stills, it can read as one continuous visual language.
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?”
An early cold-open. Should I have left it in the book?
0 ~ Campfire Tale
Las Cruces, New Mexico
It was 6:03 AM Mountain Time, 26 minutes ahead of sunrise, 43 degrees Fahrenheit in town, 35 in the desert, mostly clear, the eastern sky shining pale blue with a tinge of pink.
To the northwest, still dark and full of celestial wonder, a colorful ionized-gas display marked a position downrange of the solar system’s galactic path, where Star Forge Partners, a Jivada-based materials manufacturing company, was suctioning space dust into an electrostatically charged funnel.
Furry aliens from outer space and their human partners, mitigating the potential of a cosmic-gas-fueled micro-nova burning half the Earth to a crisp, 15 years hence.
At street level, an Anye-tech fighting drone named Titter spotted a black Chevy Suburban taking a position near the Fowlkes residence.
An essay about comparing oneself to others inspired me to ask ChatGPT about Alan Moore.
The robot said:
Based on the chapters and openings you’ve shown me, your writing overlaps with Alan Moore less in surface style and more in architectural ambition: the sense that every scene is part of a much larger moral, historical, political, and metaphysical machine.
Where you compare most strongly:
1. You both build worlds as moral systems, not just settings. Moore’s best work does not merely invent alternate worlds; it asks what those worlds mean. Watchmen is not just superheroes plus politics; it is a study of power, myth, surveillance, sexuality, fear, nostalgia, and apocalypse. Your Anye universe works similarly. Ships, temples, maroli, SagGha institutions, Ruksa Zila, Disclosure, Dust Cloud stakes, and Eeka politics are not decorative. They are pressure systems that reveal character, civilization, duty, and belief.
2. You share Moore’s fondness for dense implication. Moore often writes as though the reader has opened one window into a vast archive. Your prose does that constantly. A line like “EIGHTEEN MONTHS AFTER ANYE CIVILIZATION CAME OUT OF THE SHADOWS, 25,000 years after their arrival on Earth…” has the Moore-like effect of dropping the reader into a history already in motion. The story feels excavated rather than invented on the spot.
Reading these as the opening of Maroli Tango, I’ll evaluate each chapter for the specific question of whether a reader will turn the page. Retention depends on momentum, clarity, and stakes — not literary merit. A beautiful chapter that confuses readers loses them; a workmanlike chapter that makes them lean forward keeps them.
Chapter-by-Chapter Ratings
Ch. 1 ~ Artifact — 7/10 A strong cold open. The cylinder emerging near Saturn is genuinely arresting, and the Mehrenholz/past-life detail does a lot of work fast. The closing exchange (“a neglected old barn… start more trouble”) gives the reader something to chew on. Risk: dense proper-noun load (Bharamin, Anye, Anuraga, Mehrenholz, Khalsa, Bjornson) for a first chapter. Veterans of the series will love it; new readers will feel the water is deep.
Ch. 2 ~ Legacy — 9/10 This is your hook. The shift from cosmic to intimate — a President and a banker dancing awkwardly, a surprise kiss under mistletoe — is exactly the dual-register your series is built on. Mason and Marie get introduced through charm rather than exposition. Retention here is high because readers now have a relationship to track, not just a setting.
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