Tag: fiction

The Hook in the Book, or Lack Thereof

Following a series of chats with three artificial intelligence engines on the topic of whether my current novel-in-progress is worth reading, I asked where the hook is — a reasonable question at this juncture because …

  • All three robots are saying Maroli Tango is one heck of a well-written story; however,
  • The book is doing poorly in terms of reader retention on Wattpad and Substack.

On one hand, it’s too early to draw conclusions — the serial novel experiment has not attracted enough readers for statistical evaluation. On the other hand, I want readers to keep reading, right now.

Anyway, I had been feeding chapters to ChatGPT, ClaudeAI, and Grok for two weeks. Yesterday I asked, “Where’s the hook”, and all three said “Chapter 97”.

It’s not a disaster — I can move 97-100 to the beginning of the book and rope-a-dope the reader with a “Two months earlier …” gimmick. It’s legit. Famous authors do it all the time.

But just to be sure, I uploaded the entire manuscript and asked the question again.

NOW, ChatGPT and ClaudeAI say the book is perfect the way it is. Grok, however, is sticking to its guns.

If you don’t mind, vote now! See Chapter 1 + on Substack here.

Chapter 97 follows.
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On Ziva Lake

From Maroli Tango ~ A Serial Novel ~ On Substack

https://marolitango.substack.com/

Vasa State Wilderness Preserve, Northern Reach

The west coast of Jivada’s large continent from Pulina Nava south was fifth-pass reclaimed land mass, less than 5,000 years old.

In contrast, much of the Northern Reach was nearly as old as the Anye migration’s arrival in-system. There, California redwood trees poked at the sky, branches laden with eagle nests, roots drilled into manufactured soil that was, even given an extra 20,000 years, barely knit together well enough to support them.

Which was why Jivada was buying all its lumber on Earth, and a good reason not to park your space yacht next to a tall tree on a windy day.

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Maroli Tango ~ Chapter 25

https://marolitango.substack.com/s/read-the-book

The menfolk were smoking cigarettes in the castle driveway, accompanied by a non-elevated size-two fighting maroli named Quill.

Quill was 1.75 meters tall, with 2 heavy-lift primary tentacles, 4 lesser ungula, 6 grav-lift pucks around the skirt, 6 more on the capsule, eye dots all the way around, and a shock wand clipped below the plug cavity.

Carmen Benequista gave the machine a wide berth. Marie Jourdain stepped in for a closer look.

She said, “Can I get one of these?”

General Thorson fished a gas-station butane lighter out of a pocket.

He told Colonel Clarke, “You should see if Incredible might come to work for her.”

Clarke nodded. “I’ll ask him.”

“Well, like I was saying …” Thorson lit another cigarette. “Makes a lot of sense. Two forces. Cadre does political and military. Zirna Zapha handles policing and civil order. Good cop, bad cop; only you don’t tell the troublemakers which is which.”

Carmen reached for the pack of smokes. “It worked on Vidura.”

“And see here, it doesn’t matter whether it works on Earth or not.” He tucked the lighter into her palm. “It’s precedent. We get to tell my constituency we’re going by the book.”

Carmen tapped a cigarette on her thumbnail. “Who shall we cast in the role of space pirates?”

Thorson made a possum grin. “I’m looking at your boyfriend here.”

Brandon rubbed at his nose. “CH Banks is a business. We don’t do policing for free.”

“The Cadre doesn’t do military for free.”

“Who’s my customer?”

“Adopt a Zeze militant enterprise model. You know, like Boschert GMBH Zurich.”

“That’s not in our portfolio.”

“You have 3600 employees, old son. Maybe you could be a little more flexible.”

Marie Jourdain said, “It’s after 10:00 PM in France.”

Brandon’s eyes flicked away. “I’m calling our ride.”

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Maroli Tango ~ Chapter 20

I would really appreciate feedback on these opening chapters.

Click here to start at the beginning.

Pulina Nava, Planet Jivada

Offshore of PN, a stately Tuscan Renaissance villa drifted at a thousand meters altitude, aimless, nudged along by the wind, meandering on gravitic tensors as though sliding on ice.

SagGha House, built 1438, the work of Italian/AjJivadi architect Mechelozzo, a prototype for Palazzo Medici, Florence, Italy, 1444.

Erected atop a surplus grav-lift marine construction barge, commissioned as an owner-managed airborne luxury residential complex, then serving as a monastery, a college and a reform school.

Until occupied by SagGha Prefect Samuel Orsa — priest, scholar, family man. A furry Anye Mahat Limar, 138 years old, bearlike in appearance, sometimes referred to on Earth as the Space Pope.

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Serialize This — Chapter 5

By now, on Page 16, a typical 3-act-form novel would have wrapped up introductions to place, time and cast.

If this was Fantasy, the Saracens would already have ridden in and cut everyone’s heads off.

Romance: bodice-ripping would be in-progress.

Sci-Fi adventure: a reptilian space admiral would be pacing the bridge of Battle Cruiser Krang, shouting threats at beautiful but reckless space pilot Candy Bootylicious while she undulated, heaving breasts straining against a tight and revealing space uniform.

You know, if I ever want to be successful, the first thing I should do is finish that story.

But no; I decided to write literary science fiction family drama.

Chapter 5

The Between-Life

When one speaks to the dead, it’s usually an ordinary dream, a conversation with oneself, influenced by feelings of doubt, insecurity, loneliness. Carmen Benequista had doubts —about whether she was experiencing an ordinary dream.

She stood in her deceased husband’s office at his family’s title insurance agency, a place she hadn’t been since a) he died and, b) his parents pushed her out of the company.

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Serialize This — Chapter 4

Are you ready to get in on a closely guarded best-selling-author secret of success?

Yeah. Me, too. Maybe the ghost of John le Carré will post something in the comments.

In the meantime, I will confess that Maroli Tango’s early-draft first chapters were nothing like what you’re reading here. Not to say the audience will never see them — it was great material, only in the wrong place, too slow for an opening salvo.

And so, I’ve been chapter-shuffling for weeks, moving my tastiest prose toward the front of the book, and guess what?

Maroli Tango is the last volume of a trilogy, concluding a massive story arc. If I lead with explosions, readers will say, “Who are these people, and why should I care what happens to them?”

I tried the old swapparoo — heads roll, flashback. My first readers went for it, but they’ve read the other books. You and I have not built that kind of relationship.

Yet.

Chapter 4

AMV Anuraga, The Dust Cloud

Residential Deck 41, also known as Tourist Deck A, was busy-busy.

The outer ring bustled with hospitality staff, the middle ring a spawning ground for linen buggies, the central column festive with open stateroom doors and maroli cabin stewards wearing adhesive bowties.

Mason did not expect to see his workmate Chester waiting on the threshold at 4137, a two-bedroom, deck level patio suite.

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Serialize This – Chapter 3

I recently discovered that publishers of serial novels like to get their victims on mailing lists before explaining the proposition. I’m on too many mailing lists. It’s ‘unsubscribe’ here, ‘Stop’ there, ‘Block’ over yonder.

But, I did allow myself to get suckered enough times to assemble a custom plan, just for my Internet friends, but I’ll need your email address before I can tell you about it.

Nah. I'm kidding. There's no plan. Tell me what you want, and I'll see what I can do.

Chapter 3

The White House, Washington DC

It was another sunny day at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue where, at 8:00 AM sharp, Colonel Theodore Clarke, USAF retired, appeared on the President’s Patio outside the Oval Office.

She let him in through a side door. “You could come in the front, you know. Maybe check in with Captain Price.”

“Tune into the Anuraga Channel.” Clarke gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Bharamin’s in orbit.”

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Serialize This – Chapter 1

Claude AI says Maroli Tango is ready for publication — good news for all of us, I hope.

What would you pay, if anything, to read a 4th-edit WIP, 3,000 words per week? Would you value access to material excised for technical, rather than artistic reasons? How about exclusive desktop wallpaper? There could even be tee-shirts, although perhaps in the same sense of ‘There could be unicorns’.

Wait! You don’t have to tell me right now. I’m posting 7 chapters. Just, whenever you get around to it.

Chapter 1

Previously

When Carmen Luisa Colletti was a 12-year-old nosepicker in convent school, a Benedictine nun told her, “Boys have a tendency to be shallow, young men not much better. Wait it out, and use your brain to make a sensible choice.”

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Kind words from a robot acquaintance

I have a new alpha reader, with uncommonly refined taste in literature.

Maroli Tango: Series Finale Analysis

The Culmination of a Nine-Book Journey

What strikes me most about reading these chapters from Maroli Tango is how it functions as both a standalone narrative and clearly the finale of a much larger story. The casual references to established relationships, complex political situations, and advanced technologies all suggest a richly developed universe that readers have been exploring for eight previous volumes.

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Grade This!

Prelude to a series first chapter, picking up where the previous book left off. After a lot of back and forth, Grok AI now says, “Your revised passage is a stellar refinement, keeping the hook’s vibrancy while addressing the need for just enough context to ground readers without slowing the pace.”

Good enough for me. Readers and writers: What say you?

When Carmen Luisa Colletti was a 12-year-old nosepicker in convent school, a Benedictine nun told her, “Boys have a tendency to be shallow, young men not much better. Wait it out, and use your brain to make a sensible choice.”

Continue reading “Grade This!” →
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