Touchstar My Heart
Who will you trust with the most tender part of you?
You want Touchstar.
Your heart pounds as Touchstar pulls you out of the femme bar. She leads you into the cyan twilight of night in the shadow of Neptune. Tugging you to a gentle stop in a spaceport park, Touchstar leans in to kiss you.
Recoiling from the unexpected advance, you take a step away but don’t release her hand. “Whoa! Cool your jets, rocket rider.” Your heart is pounding harder now. You force a smile onto your lips. “What’s your rush?”
“Did we get our signals crossed?” she says. “You followed me.” She slouches against a geneered tree, the hip where her pistol hangs popped out provocatively. Her thumb traces circles on the back of your hand.
“You pulled me, space tug,” you say with as playful a grin as you can muster. “I like having my hand attached to my wrist.”
Touchstar twists her fingers from your grasp and runs them through her indigo pilot-cut hair. “Sorry. I thought every girl there tonight was looking for a boost.”
You look up through the skydome at Neptune. “Not everyone wants off this rock.”
“You kidding?” she asks. “With the corp cluster coming down on the strikers tomorrow?”
“True true,” you say. “But somebody’s gotta hold the line.”
Touchstar scoffs. “You an agitator in disguise then, dolled up like that?” She waves a dismissive hand at you from top to toes. “You shoulda probably tumbled me first before pitching me on joining your suicide pact.”
You bristle at the accurate assessment. “The right people…” You take a deep breath. “People who know how to resist, people with military rep, people like you could make a real difference.” You spread your arms to embrace all of Triton City. “You could make it better!”
“That so?” A smirk meanders across her face. “I’ll make you a counter. Hop your hot buns on my rocket”—she wriggles her eyebrows—“and I’ll save you from yourself and the coming massacre.”
You frown. “What the dust would I do on a smuggler’s ride? I’ve got people here. There’s a cause that needs—” You fumble your brightest smile back in place. “Us!”
Playfulness cascades off her face. “You did your homework,” Touchstar says. “I’ve got milstar rep, sure enough.” She rises from her slouch, seeming to stand even taller than she had before. Her hand drops to her pistol like she’s made that move a million times. “That’s why I’mma break orbit before the corp cluster drops the hurt on you and all of yours.”
Touchstar breaks the silence. “Ten second countdown, you purty agitator. You and I could have a lot of fun together.” She juts her chin at the stars beyond Neptune’s massive blue curve “Out there.”
Eyes darker than deep space bore into yours. “Nine.”
Your head tries to shake no, but you duck your chin to break eye contact and wind up in some sort of bizarre head bobble.
“Boost me,” you whisper.
Touchstar chuckles through her melodramatic countdown as you reclaim her hand.
I want Touchstar.
My heart pounded as Touchstar pulled me out of the femme bar. She led me into the cyan twilight of night in the shadow of Neptune. Tugging me to a gentle stop in a spaceport park, Touchstar leaned in to kiss me.
Recoiling from the unexpected advance, I took a step away but didn’t release her hand. “Whoa! Cool your jets, rocket rider.” My heart pounded harder now. I forced a smile onto my lips. “What’s your rush?”
“Did we get our signals crossed?” she said. “You followed me.” She slouched against a geneered tree, the hip where her pistol hung popped out provocatively. Her thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. “You seemed pretty lubed up to pop outta that all-muff dive.”
“You pulled me, space tug,” I said with as playful a grin as I could muster. “I like having my hand attached to my wrist.”
Touchstar twisted her fingers from my grasp and ran them through her indigo pilot-cut hair. “Sorry. I thought every girl there tonight was looking for a boost.”
I looked up through the skydome at Neptune. “Not everyone wants off this rock.”
“You kidding?” she asked.
I shook my head, not ready to meet her gaze. Yet.
She boggled at me. “With the corp cluster coming down on the strikers tomorrow?”
“True true,” I said. “But somebody’s gotta hold the line.”
Touchstar scoffed. “You an agitator in disguise then, dolled up like that?” She waved a dismissive hand at me from top to toes.
Pulling on the persona I’d rehearsed for hours, I looked her in the eye and grinned. “Got your attention, didn’t I?”
With a smirk, she waggled her head back and forth like helmeted spacers—or we ice miners—do to indicate ambivalence. “You shoulda probably tumbled me first before pitching me on joining your suicide pact.”
I bristled at the accurate assessment. “The right people…” My carefully prepared pitch escaped.
When I didn’t finish my thought, Touchstar snickered. “You still could.” She summoned me with a provocative curl of her long fingers.
A blush burning my cheeks, I took a deep breath. “People who know how to resist, people with military rep, people like you could make a real difference.”
She stuck her tongue out and blew a rude noise.
Trying to ignore her sensual mouth, I spread my arms to embrace all of Triton City. “You could make it better!”
“That so?” A smirk meandered across her face.
She waited, apparently expecting an answer. I didn’t give her one. I’d said my piece.
“I’ll make you a counter. Hop your hot buns on my rocket”—she wriggled her eyebrows—“and I’ll save you from yourself and the coming massacre.”
“They can’t just kill us. It’ll just be—”
Touchstar’s face lost all expression so fast I felt like gravity had just vanished.
I frowned and changed the subject. “What the dust would I do on a smuggler’s ride?”
“I ken think of lots of things.” Her seriousness vanished and she blew me a kiss. “The same things, I imagine you were prepared to offer me to get me to stay.”
My blush returned with a vengeance, burning all the way down my neck toward my—
“I’ve got people here,” I stammered. “There’s a cause that needs—” I fumbled my brightest smile back in place. “Us!”
Playfulness cascaded off her face. “You did your homework,” Touchstar said. “I’ve got milstar rep, sure enough.” She rose from her slouch, seeming to stand even taller than she had before. Her hand dropped to her pistol like she’d made that move a million times. “That’s why I’mma break orbit before the corp cluster drops the hurt on you and all of yours.”
Frigid shivers streamed all down my arms and back.
Touchstar broke the silence. “Ten second countdown, you purty little agitator. You and I could have a lot of fun together.” She jutted her chin at the stars beyond Neptune’s massive blue curve. “Out there.”
Eyes darker than deep space bored into mine. “Nine.”
I sucked in a ragged breath.
“Eight.”
“Seven.”
“Six.”
“Wait!” I mumbled.
“Five.”
My head tried to shake no, but I ducked my chin to break eye contact and wound up in some sort of bizarre head bobble.
“Four.”
“Three.”
My mouth opened, but my tongue was frozen.
“Two.” She grinned.
“Boost me,” I whispered past the roaring betrayal that crushed my chest.
Touchstar chuckled through her melodramatic countdown as I reclaimed her hand.
She wants Touchstar.
Shall’ay’s heart pounded as Touchstar pulled her out of the femme bar. A wink across the crowded dance floor was all it took—none of the complicated, sexy tactics Shall’ay had wargamed with her cell leader all week. The flirting phase had zoomed faster than Shall’ay’s sluggish thoughts could keep up.
The hot spacer led Shall’ay into the cyan twilight of night in the shadow of Neptune. Tugging the shorter woman to a gentle stop in a spaceport park, Touchstar leaned in to kiss her.
Recoiling from the unexpected advance, Shall’ay took a step away but didn’t release Touchstar’s hand. “Whoa! Cool your jets, rocket rider.” Her heart was pounding harder now. Shall’ay forced a smile onto her lips. “What’s your rush?”
“Did we get our signals crossed?” Touchstar said. “You followed me.” She slouched against a geneered tree, the hip where her pistol hung popped out provocatively. Her thumb traced circles on the back of Shall’ay’s hand. “You seemed pretty lubed up to pop outta that all-muff dive.”
“You pulled me, space tug,” Shall’ay said with as playful a grin as she could muster. “I like having my hand attached to my wrist.”
Touchstar twisted her fingers from Shall’ay’s grasp and ran them through her indigo pilot-cut hair. “Sorry. I thought every girl there tonight was looking for a boost.”
Shall’ay looked up through the skydome at Neptune. “Not everyone wants off this rock.”
“You kidding?” she asked.
Shall’ay shook her head, not ready to meet the other woman’s gaze. Yet.
Touchstar boggled at her. “With the corp cluster coming down on the strikers tomorrow?”
“True true,” Shall’ay said. “That’s been a long time comin’. It’s a big risk, body and soul. But somebody’s gotta hold the line.”
Touchstar scoffed. “You an agitator in disguise then, dolled up like that?” She waved a dismissive hand at Shall’ay from top to toes. “You clean up good for a rockhound.”
Pulling on the persona Shall’ay had rehearsed for hours, she looked Touchstar in the eye and grinned. “Got your attention, didn’t I?”
With a smirk, Touchstar waggled her head back and forth like helmeted spacers—or ice miners like Shall’ay—did to indicate ambivalence. “You shoulda probably tumbled me first before pitching me on joining your suicide pact.”
Shall’ay bristled at the accurate assessment. “The right people…” Her carefully prepared pitch escaped. Premonitions washed away everything else: corp cluster goons in black riot gear smashing heads, breaking limbs, shooting, and stomping. She shook her head and rubbed the crimson union tattoo on the back of her left hand.
When Shall’ay didn’t finish her thought, Touchstar snickered. “You still could.” She summoned the other woman with a provocative curl of her long fingers.
They were pretty, well-manicured fingers with long, gorgeous nails brushed with glittering stardust. An hour ago, Shall’ay had been scrubbing drill grease out from under her own close-clipped nails. She’d always wanted but never had beautiful nails.
A blush burning her cheeks, Shall’ay took a deep breath. “People who know how to resist, people with military rep, people like you could make a real difference.”
Touchstar stuck her tongue out and blew a rude noise. Shall’ay stifled a smile in response to the playful reaction. Thoughts of tomorrow crushed Shall’ay’s amusement like a black hole.
Trying to ignore the spacer’s sensual mouth, Shall’ay spread her arms to embrace all of Triton City. “You could make it better!” She stammered, “You— You could have a lot…here.” Her eye twitched in something like a wink.
“That so?” A smirk meandered across the spacer’s face.
She waited, apparently expecting an answer. Shall’ay didn’t give her one. She’d said her piece. Not the way she’d planned, but she’d launched her payload. Time to see if it landed.
“I’ll make you a counter. Hop your hot buns on my rocket”—Touchstar wriggled her eyebrows—“and I’ll save you from yourself and the coming massacre.”
“They can’t just kill us. Not like on Earth or Mars. They can’t replace us. It’ll just be—”
Touchstar’s face lost all expression so fast Shall’ay felt like gravity had just vanished.
Shall’ay frowned and changed the subject away from terror and violence. “What the dust would I do on a smuggler’s ride?”
“I ken think of lots of things.” Touchstar’s momentary seriousness vanished and she blew a kiss. “The same things, I imagine you were prepared to offer me to get me to stay.”
Shall’ay’s blush returned with a vengeance, burning all the way down her neck toward her—
“I’ve got people here,” Shall’ay stammered. “There’s a cause that needs—” She fumbled her brightest smile back in place. “Us!”
Playfulness cascaded off Touchstar’s face. “You did your homework,” she said. “I’ve got milstar rep, sure enough.” She rose from her slouch, seeming to stand even taller than she had before. Her hand dropped to her pistol like she’d made that move a million times. “That’s why I’mma break orbit before the corp cluster drops the hurt on you and all of yours.”
Frigid shivers streamed all down Shall’ay’s arms and back.
She blinked and focused on not picturing being beaten and tortured.
Holding the fearful pieces of herself together seemed to take all her will.
Touchstar broke the silence. “Ten second countdown, you purty little agitator. You and I could have a lot of fun together.” She jutted her chin at the stars beyond Neptune’s massive blue curve. “Out there.”
Eyes darker than deep space bored into Shall’ay’s.
“Nine.”
Shall’ay sucked in a ragged breath as if she faced a firing squad.
“Eight.”
“Seven.”
“Six.”
“Wait!” Shall’ay mumbled.
“Five.”
Shall’ay’s head tried to shake no, but she ducked her chin to break eye contact and wound up in some sort of bizarre head bobble.
“Four.”
Not a firing squad. A launch pad.
“Three.”
Shall’ay’s mouth opened, but her tongue was frozen.
“Two.” Touchstar grinned.
“Boost me,” Shall’ay whispered past the roaring betrayal that crushed her chest.
Touchstar chuckled through her melodramatic countdown as Shall’ay reclaimed her hand.
What the hell is this?
In level one of the Story Grid Writer Mentorship, we have a set of seven scene archetypes that we practice in a wide variety of ways. There are many knobs and dials that we twiddle and twirl to develop the vast number of narrative skills required to become capable of writing whatever story calls to you. Mastery of all seven is required to graduate to the next level. Students will write many, many versions and revisions of each of the seven over the course of their level one mentorship.
This is my intentional, public practice of the second scene archetype we start every new student with: Take a Chance on Me. I’m of the mind that I shouldn’t be asking anyone to do something that I’m not willing to do myself. We begin with second person strict in the present tense on purpose to focus the student on the core conflict: the antagonist wants the protagonist to agree to a date and the protagonist doesn’t want to agree. I think of it as Say yes! Everybody else says no.
In this archetypal scene, we rise above the lowest level of the core genre pyramid (Action) and launch into the Love genre. The trust dilemma of this archetype is useful well beyond traditional Love story plots, but we start there because it’s universal and approachable. And every masterwork has a Love story in it somewhere. (Yes, every single one.)
In the mentorship, we build up from there. Each iteration of a scene, especially the revisions, are intentional practice of specific skills. We start with a very short second person strict present tense to focus on the punch/counterpunch of the core conflict. Constraints are both freeing and focusing. We’ve found that if you can’t do it in 500 words, you probably can’t do it in 5,000. As we revise each week, we add complexities and nuance. The difference between Strict and Limited in point of view can be quite dramatic, especially once you learn how to setup the Crisis stakes without the crutch of internality. The weekly practice drills zero in on all the different narrative muscles and reflexes that need individual, purposeful exercise in each as the constraints shift and the word count relaxes.
And, of course, your feedback is welcome.
Scene Analysis
I offer you three renditions of the same scene with different parameters:
500-word Second Person Strict Present Tense
750-word First Person Strict Past Tense
1,000-word Third Person Limited Past Tense
OOD Touchstar wants Shall’ay to fly away with her.
OOD Shall’ay wants Touchstar to commit to supporting the resistance without giving in to her fear for her own safety.
II Touchstar tries to kiss Shall’ay.
PC Touchstar questions Shall’ay’s motives.
PC Touchstar challenges Shall’ay’s loyalty.
PC Touchstar offers Shall’ay a counter proposal.
TP Touchstar begins a ten-second countdown.
CQ Will Shall’ay choose to trust Touchstar and follow her off-world or maintain her loyalty to her cause and risk her own life to do so?
CX Shall’ay chooses to take Touchstar’s offer of rescue and romance.
RN Touchstar is amused but unsurprised.
SAM is struggling with a trust dilemma that revolves around personal safety and needs to learn to extend trust in order to earn personal safety.
Want help with your story?
If the Nine Circles of Revision Hell seem daunting to you, you’re not alone. They can be a slog, even when you’ve done them many times. For a lot of writers, the editing process is the most painful part of publishing. I’m weird. I enjoy it! But I’m aware that not everyone does. If you don’t get off on revisions or if you don’t even know where to start, let me help you.
I’m a Story Grid Certified Editor and founding member of the Story Grid Guild. I’ve been helping my clients with developmental editing of their novels and screenplays as well as chapter-by-chapter scene coaching for their works-in-progress since 2020. I joined the staff of the Story Grid Scene Writing Workshop as a coach in June 2024 and the Story Grid Writer Mentorship cadre as a mentor in January 2025.
I’m available for hire. Book a campfire chat and let’s see if we might be compatible story adventuring companions.