The
Victorian Age Meets the Age of Aquarius
Imagine
the 1960s. Race riots. Viet Nam. The Cuban Missile Crisis.
Imagine
a group of fanatical peace activists happening upon a means of time
travel and jumping back to the source of departure, the mid-1800s, in
hopes of altering the future and avoiding specific global atrocities.
Imagine
their good intentions going horribly wrong and, instead, the two
centuries meld setting the world on an unknown course.
I
imagined and ended up with a spectacular and endearing alternate
world.
The
Victorian Age meets the Age of Aquarius.
Then,
inspired by a steampunk angle, I imagined a daring, former air
marshal—Tucker Gentry, aka The
Sky Cowboy—and
a young woman—Amelia Darcy—with a passion for aviation and a
burning desire to experience all the world has to offer whilst saving
her family from ruin. And an adventurous tale took flight.
I’ve
written quite a few books and yet HER SKY COWBOY is like nothing I’ve
tackled before. The idea burrowed in my brain and wouldn’t let go.
I’m thrilled. Although rooted in Steampunk
and Romance,
this story is a bit of a mash-up. I’ve recently seen it described
as a Genre-Bender,
which makes perfect since it also incorporate time-travel and
paranormal, just to name two more elements. I’m thinking the best
way to hook readers is to offer a glimpse of my alternate world, a
world ever transformed by… The
Glorious Victorious Darcys.
SET-UP:
Our hero and heroine, Tuck and Amelia board a Skytown —a collection
of four to five airships, floating pleasure meccas operating “above
the law”. I adore Amelia’s sense of curiosity as well as Tuck’s
cynical attitude. Enter the costumed “greeter”.
EXCERPT:
“My
name is Doobie. Welcome to Skytown, miss,” he said with a nod
toward Amelia. “We have but one law: Make love, not war.”
A
credo of the Peace Rebels. Amelia vibrated with excitement. She tried
not to stare as the colorfully garbed man explained the layout of the
“town” and its most popular venues. Difficult, that. Doobie was a
curiosity indeed. Medieval tunic embroidered with flowers and
accentuated with studs. Long, unkempt hair. An Indian–type band
around his forehead and a sprig of daisies behind his right ear.
He
looked to Tucker. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Got
a transformation center on this mecca?”
“The
Fantasy Factory on Prankster Street. Next dig over, one deck down.”
He squinted through his rose- colored spectacles. “You look
familiar.”
“No,
I don’t.”
Doobie
nodded. “My mistake.” He glanced to Amelia and smiled. “Have
fun, chickadoodle.” He bade her good-bye as Tucker pulled her away,
but not with a wave.
“Did
you see that?” she whispered, stunned. “Doobie gave me the two-
finger! Was he a Mod? He looked too young, but—”
“Not
a Mod.”
“A
Freak? Except I saw his eyes over the rims of his spectacles when he
bowed his head. Plain brown, but—”
“A
Vic dressed up like a Mod, honey. An actor. Part of the appeal and
atmosphere. Just like the rest of these hawkers,” he said without
making eye contact with any one of the colorful people they passed.
Amelia,
however, tripped twice, distracted by sights she’d seen only in the
Book of Mods. Men and women dressed to the nines in threads of the
Love Generation. One played a guitar, singing about “blowing in the
wind.” One smoked an odd- smelling cigarette, offering a “toke”
to Amelia as they passed. Another was passing out free
necklaces—“love beads.” She accepted two colorful strands with
a smile. “Thank you.”
A
doe-eyed woman with a diamond stud in her nose gestured to a doorway.
“Hemp headbands and bracelets, incense, leather cuffs . . .”
The
woman’s words faded as Tucker steered Amelia
away.
“Come on, Flygirl, before she sells you a bong.”
“What’s
a bong?”
“Never
mind.”
They
crossed another swinging gangway. Dig number two— Prankster
Street.
“I’m surprised by how deserted this skytown is. More hawkers than
patrons,” Amelia noted as they descended a deck.
“That’s
because it’s early. Skytowns come alive after sundown.”
“Must
be something to see.”
“Paris
is something to see. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“Oh,
no.” She tugged him to a stop, wide- eyed,adrenaline racing. What
if she didn’t win the jubilee prize? What if her brothers failed?
What if she was doomed to live out her days with Mother at Ashford,
or someplace even more remote? Or to marry some wealthy conservative,
someone like Lord Bingham? What if this was her one shot at freedom?
She
gripped the Sky Cowboy by the lapel of his greatcoat.
“I
want to experience it all, Mr. Gentry.”
He
wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed. “Then you will, Miss
Darcy.”
Give-away:
Intrigued?
In order to be eligible to win a copy of HER SKY COWBOY, name your
favorite 1960s lino/slang term. Cool beans and good luck!
Beth’s
Links:
Website:
www.bethciotta.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/BethCiottaBooks
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/BethCiotta
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