Power dynamics.

No matter the context, if more than one person is involved in an activity, there is a power dynamic in play.

When I first started writing, I naively thought that I could do whatever I wanted. Since I was the only person writing the book, I was the one in control of the process, the product, and the outcome.

Hah.

And I say it again: HAH!

I was so stupid back then. I bought into an illusion of control, and it took far too long for reality to knock me down.

For authors, there can be as many power plays involved in writing as there are people in their lives, and then there are four more that every author has to face.

Author versus Editor.

Author versus Readers.

Author versus Authors.

Author versus Self.

I don’t have the time to explain all four of these in detail here today, so I’ll pick the most relevant one to the message included in the rest of the chapter.

Let’s talk about authors and readers.

Authors, by definition, are producers while readers are consumers. If an author wants to market a novel and make money, they have to find readers who are willing to pay for their work. In a traditional author-reader relationship, the author has more power than the readers because the readers, by definition, had to have paid for the author’s work to qualify as a reader.

However, the landscape is different in the web novel medium. Web novels are often released for free to a broad audience, and this shifts the power dynamic drastically. Any random person on the internet can find a web novel and read it, but it also means that any random author can write whatever they want to and flood the market with trash.

The power balance is grossly disproportionate in the readers’ favor. They can arbitrarily set their expectations and tear into an author if those arbitrary expectations aren’t met. Readers have control over comment sections, rankings, and feedback. They hold the reins of influence and bring life to the novels.

In my humble opinion, web novel authors are brave. They accept an inferior position where they are subject to intense scrutiny and judgment, with no guaranteed rewards. The majority of readers are what we in the industry call ‘freebie hunters’, those who predominantly read free books.

Yet, in this seemingly imbalanced dynamic, web novel authors persevere. They endure the waves of criticism, the uncertainty, and the ever-present possibility of failure. They write because they have stories to share and a burning passion for their craft.

To be a web novel author is to embrace vulnerability and accept the challenge of creating something meaningful in a world where the power lies with the readers.

Writing to an audience is somewhat like a dance.

The author is trying to lead, but most authors are clumsy dancers. The readers are trying to follow, but sometimes they are better dancers, and sometimes they think they are better when they really aren’t. It’s a metaphor that I never expected to make, but one that was on my mind for the last few minutes, so I wanted to express it.

In a way, it was a coping mechanism. It honestly felt weird to be standing in a dance classroom, a place I never would’ve been caught dead in the real world.

“Welcome back, everyone!”

Annika Dufault’s warm, lilting voice echoed across the studio.

“Gather round, please. Today we’re venturing into a realm of passion, struggle, and profound intimacy. Today, we dance the Tango!”

A collective shiver of excitement and curiosity ran through the room.

‘The Tango, eh?’

I’d obviously seen the dance here and there on TV but I’d never considered the possibility of me learning it. Now that the opportunity was in front of me, it seemed like it could be fun…

I glanced at Lilith out of the corner of my eye. She was watching Annika with rapt attention.

Well, maybe it didn’t seem so bad because I had a pretty succubus as a dance partner.

“The Tango is not your average dance. It’s a fiery dialogue of movements, a delicate balance between power and surrender, an intimate bond created in the heart of rhythm and balance… a story told through the language of movement,” Annika’s eyes shone with a passionate spark, her hands flitting around as she spoke.

A hand shot up, and I turned to see a cyborg student ask, “What, exactly, do you mean by ‘balance between power and surrender’?”

‘Thank you!’

I silently thanked the unnamed cyborg for asking a question I also wanted to know the answer to, but didn’t want to ask myself.

“A million-dollar question!” Annika clapped, her eyes dancing with excitement. “The power play in Tango is all about control and balance. Traditionally, the man leads, but both dancers are continuously striving to assert their presence, their control. It’s a battle for dominance played out in rhythm and steps.”

Dominance—one of the most important qualities a Hero could have.

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A short alien student chimed in, “Why is this relevant for us? We’re Heroes, not dancers.”

“The relevance, dear students, lies in the dynamics,” Annika said with a smile. “Negotiations, covert missions, diplomatic events, even… certain personal situations. The precision of a perfectly executed Tango step can be the difference between a successful mission and a disaster. The ability to anticipate your partner’s moves in Tango can translate into predicting an opponent’s actions during combat. Whether you find yourself in a dance-off or a battle to the death, learning the Tango just might be your secret weapon.”

‘Secret weapon?’ I snickered, drawing a few gazes my way. ‘Note to self: next time I face off with a villain, I should apparently break into a Tango.’

“And remember,” Annika said, raising her hands, “the Tango isn’t just about the steps. It’s a conversation, a silent battle, a seduction. It’s all about anticipation and synchronization. It’s like playing multiplayer video games with a friend and knowing exactly what move they’re going to make next because you’ve spent so much time together.”

With that, she clapped her hands together and the room fell silent, charged with anticipation. “Now, we’ll need a couple to demonstrate.” Her eyes scanned the crowd before landing on me and Lilith. “Brick, Lilith, up front please.”

‘This again?’

I fought back the urge to sigh as we complied.

“Brick, Lilith, stand close, but not too close,” Annika commanded, her eyes observing us with keen scrutiny. She paced around us, her gaze critiquing our every move.

She began by explaining the Tango’s stance. “The man takes the ‘closed hold’ position,” she instructed, directing me to place my right hand on Lilith’s lower back, and my left hand holding hers up in the air.

I followed her instructions with as much confidence as I could muster as a first-time Tango’er, which is to say, not a lot.

“Good,” Annika nodded, correcting my posture slightly. “You need to hold her as if she’s precious but not fragile. Firm, but gentle. It’s a fine balance, Brick.”

As Lilith took her position, I could feel a subtle shift in our dynamic. Her hand confidently found its place on my shoulder, the pressure of her grip asserting dominance. Her other hand clasped mine, fingers entwining with an unexpected intimacy.

“Now, the Tango is essentially walking in sync, with style,” Annika explained, moving on to the steps. She demonstrated the walk—slow, deliberate, and rhythmic—and had us follow.

My first steps were shaky and uncertain, causing Lilith to stumble slightly. Annika was quick to point out my mistake. “You need to lead with conviction, Brick. Every step is a statement.”

I tried again. This time, however, Lilith took the lead. Her hand on my back was firm, assertive. Her movements were precise and decisive, leaving no room for hesitation. It was a silent challenge, a declaration of power and ability that I was failing to match.

‘Oh, is that how it’s going to be? Fine, then.’

Heat rose to my face as I responded to her unspoken challenge.

Annika snapped her fingers and the music started, signaling that the real dance had begun.

As Lilith and I began to dance for real, I decided that I was going to lead. We weren’t dance partners anymore. In this struggle for dominance, there were only two possible outcomes: victory or defeat. Our bodies wove around each other, our every move, every touch laced with electric intensity.

The room fell away; the students, the mirrors, even Annika herself, until it was just us, our bodies swaying to the seductive rhythm. The dance floor became a battleground, our movements the fierce, silent clashes of an exquisite power play.

Lilith’s gaze was sharp, her body moving with a fierce grace that was as entrancing as it was intimidating. Her hand in mine was a steadfast anchor, her touch a smoldering spark, each movement a question, a challenge.

My response was to demonstrate my determination. I refused to back down. Each step I took was a reply to her challenge. I unconsciously tapped into the explosive storm inside, the mana responding to my will and matching the rhythm of our dance, pulsing in time with the beat and every rise and fall of our bodies.

The dance ended as abruptly as it began, with the final strum of a guitar echoing in the now silent room. Our bodies stilled, yet the intimate tension between us lingered, tangible and electrifying.

Lilith was the first to break away, her hands slipping from my grasp with a finality that sent a jolt through me. But her eyes held mine captive, a silent declaration between us even as she stepped away.

There was a murmur of applause around us, and the room filled again with the chattering of our classmates. The dance was over, but my heart was pounding in my chest. The echoes of our wordless dialogue persisted, ringing in my ears. The look in Lilith’s eyes, the tantalizing proximity of her body, the shared power struggle…

“Well, that was… a dance!” Annika clapped. “Bravo, you two!”

Sweat trickled down my forehead, matching the fiery glint in Lilith’s eyes. Amidst the applause, we disentangled ourselves from the close embrace. I offered my hand and led Lilith away from the spotlight toward a quieter end of the room.

The music began again and the other students paired off. Annika fluttered around, giving feedback to each pair while letting us rest for a moment.

“Thank’s Lilith,” I began, keeping my voice steady. “For… yesterday.” I let the words hand in the air.

She eyed me curiously, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yesterday? Well, it’s fine, I suppose. I wasn’t expecting to run into you there, but I’m starting to realize just what kind of person you are.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, curious.

“You’re a self-aware enigma; a puzzle that doesn’t want to be solved.”

I considered her evaluation for a moment before smiling, “Well, I won’t confirm or deny your guess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright. Then another question about yesterday: Why the charade? Why not dance directly with me?”

I shrugged. "It’s not always about the spotlight, Lilith. There’s beauty in the understated.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” I began, choosing my words carefully. “The dance we just did? The Tango? It’s all about subtlety and anticipation. Leading and following, the interplay of roles, the push and pull…”

“I’m aware,” she interrupted. “But I don’t see the connection.”

I leaned back, resting my weight on my arms as I studied her. “Everything. Just like in the Tango, sometimes it’s not about being at the forefront. Sometimes it’s about the journey, the build-up.”

She crossed her arms and sighed. “You’re speaking in riddles again.”

I chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m simply suggesting a different approach.”

“Which is?”

“Ever heard of working one’s way up? I can’t run the show if I’m dancing with you. If you let me do my thing and give me a hand at the right time, I just might be able to help you with your research.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a long, tired sigh. “And there it is again,” she complained. “What if I don’t want to ‘let you do your thing’? Just because the puzzle doesn’t want to be solved, doesn’t mean I have to give up on solving it.”

Her words hung in the air, a challenge demanding acknowledgment. I shrugged, feigning ignorance, “Every man has his secrets, Lilith.”

“Will you tell me yours?” Her gaze was unwavering.

“Keep dancing with me,” I answered, a smirk playing on my lips. “That’s the only way to find out.”

I stood up and walked away, feeling her gaze on my back. I didn’t look back, instead leaving class early since there was nothing left for me to do there.

Annika saw me leave and waved. I returned the gesture and left.

Once I was on the other side of the door, I leaned against the wall and shuddered, all the strength leaving my body.

“Wow…” I breathed.

I couldn’t help but replay the intense moments of our dance in my mind. The electricity still lingered, pulsating through my veins. It was exhilarating and exhausting.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady my racing heart. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind. After a few minutes, I calmed myself down enough to focus on what mattered now: Thaddeus was waiting for an update, and lunch would be the perfect time to discuss our next move.

I pulled out my cell phone and sent him a quick text:

(Me) Lunch?

(Thaddeus) 👍

Perfect.

After checking off a box on my mental to-do list, I set off for the cafeteria.