To Sequel, or Not to Sequel: The fine line between inspiration and convenience
The creation of a world is a process that requires quite a bit of time and effort; yet, it’s something that science fiction and fantasy writers do all the time. It’s no wonder that writers become just as attached to their worlds and their characters as their readers and fans do. Moreso, even, because they’ve got more invested in them. They breathe, sleep and dream these worlds. They have, by necessity, a greater and deeper understanding of them than can ever be conveyed through a novel’s pages.
When that novel is over, it’s sometimes hard for the reader to give that world up. They’ve been drawn into it, made to care about it, understand it, and maybe even wish they could have a chance to live in it. For the writer, it can be even harder. They’ve invested time, sweat, tears and ink in the creation of a fully formed entity, and there can be times when it feels like a waste to have done all that, only to dip into it for a mere two- to three hundred page slice of that world’s history and then abandon it for all time.
The answer, of course, is the sequel. Another chance to open a window into that beloved world, see more of its people and places, experience more of its flavor, and immerse yourself in it one more time. Reading a sequel can feel like coming home. It can feel like a reunion with old friends, or a chance to take one more sip of a sweet, rare wine.
There’s value, though, in a novel that stands alone. As faithful readers will know, two of the books I’ve worked on have just come out in print; both of them are sequels. Both of them are fairly independent sequels; you’ll miss a lot of the nuance and background flavor of each if you haven’t read their precursors, but you’ll still be able to follow along. That’s the best sort of situation for the casual reader (the Kay Scarpetta series by Patricia Cornwell is another good example), because a reader can jump in at any time and the later books can create an interest in going back to the previous installments. In contrast, some sequels assume that you’ve just finished the last page of the previous book before diving into the next. It’s much more difficult for the reader to pick that sort of series up midstream, and there’s a chance that the accessibility of your work might suffer as a result. Beware, also, the “glass cage”, where a writer gets so deeply locked into a given series that it becomes all they write (or even, some might speculate, all they can write).
How do you, as a writer, know when to write a sequel and when to gracefully let it go? Consider the following questions:
1. What questions does your novel leave unanswered?
I’m not talking about cliffhangers here. The surest way to piss your readers off is to end a book on a cliffhanger and make them wait three years for the next installment. By that time either they’ll hate you with a fiery passion, they’ll have resorted to writing their own fanfic to resolve those questions satisfactorily for themselves, or they’ll have stopped caring. An ending can leave questions unanswered without having to employ a fishhook through the cheek to keep readers reeled in for the next installment. A book that exists only to bridge the beginning and end of a trilogy will always be unsatisfying. Each book should have its own plot resolved, even if the larger issues are still up in the air.
As a writer, identify those issues and questions. If there’s enough meat to one of them, it might have the potential to become your next plot. Even if your next book is “the continuing adventures of…” and doesn’t rely on the previous plot at all, there should still be some growth and progress. Keep track of those questions. Answer some. Create more. There’s a very limited market for the types of series where the slate is wiped clean for each episode and the characters never grow or change. If you want to keep a reader invested in your characters, those characters have to develop and deepen. They have to affect the world and be affected by it.
2. Why are you returning to this world and these characters?
Is it because you’re inspired by them and you think they have more stories to tell? Do you know what some of those stories are? Is it because they’re familiar to you and their patterns are easy to write? Is it because you have so much time invested in the setting that you don’t want that effort and research to go to waste, or because you have so much time invested in the setting that it’s easier to continue there than to invent someplace new? Is it because it’s what your audience likes and requests more of?
I’m not placing value judgments on any of these reasons. Whether they’re good or bad reasons isn’t important, for our purposes, and a lot of them are situational, not necessarily black and white. What’s important is that you know what your reasons are. Think about them, take a step back, and look at them from a reader’s perspective. Most importantly, ask yourself, Is this reason strong enough to sustain a whole book? If your reason is “Because there are stories left to tell,” then the answer is most likely yes. If your reason is “Because that’s what authors are supposed to do,” you may want to re-evaluate.
3. Have you saturated your market?
It’s always better to quit while you’re ahead, go out on a strong note, and other such clichés, than to drain the well dry, jump the shark or beat the dead horse. The last thing you want is to get a reputation as “that writer who didn’t know when to quit”. Even if you do feel that you have more stories left to tell, make sure that your readers have an interest in hearing them. It’s much harder to regain the attention of the former fan who’s gotten disillusioned or bored, whereas you can always return to the series later, if circumstances and demand warrant it. If you’re not sure, wrap up gracefully until your readers (and your publisher) want more.
