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A tale of two sequels: An accidental case study
Now that my first novel is out there, and being read by ones, maybe even tens, of readers, I’ve gotten some questions about the cliffhanger ending. And yes, I intend to produce a sequel. In fact, there’s already a first draft. It has a couple of interesting new characters, a decent climactic scene, a more ending-y feeling ending than Viral. That’s about all it has. It needs a LOT of work, so I’m not sure when it’ll see the light of day.
As luck would have it, right around when I published Viral, two books in a row off my reading pile happened to be sequels. Like Viral (and its as-yet-unnamed sequel), they both happened to be about people with psychic and/or telekinetic powers. And it’s not like I particularly focus on genre fiction like that, so it was a weird coincidence.
There were similarities between the books, yes, but there were also stark differences. One was the second book by a self-published author, the other probably the fiftieth or so by one of the most famous and best-selling writers of all time. While experience isn’t everything, I felt that some of the other differences had a lot to do with it. And resources, too; I can’t dismiss the fact that the well-known author probably had a team of top-notch editors and proofreaders, while the self-published author was, like me, probably going it nearly alone, with the help of a few friends.
So, you know, I was rooting for the Rookie. And the book wasn’t bad; it had its merits. But it stood in stark contrast to the Seasoned Pro’s I read right after it. And what stood out, as I read and deeply enjoyed the bestseller, were the differences that made it more intriguing, more compelling, more original than the self-published one. These are the learnings I hope to take into my edit of my own sequel.
- Start with a different status quo. Seasoned Pro had the advantage here because his sequel took place decades later; his main character had been a child and was now an adult with a lot of life experiences. But even though Rookie’s sequel picked up the same day as the first book left off, she had an opportunity to start with changed characters. They’d gone through dramatic and traumatic events in the previous book. Unfortunately, except for some cosmetic differences (the main characters were now a couple and knew a lot more), they were essentially in the same place. They were pariahs again, for a new reason. Another outcast kid who had died was replaced by a new outcast-kid character. Several of the side characters fell into the same behaviors as in the first book. Authority figures stopped believing the main character again. And so on.
- Use callbacks judiciously. Seasoned Pro’s story took place mainly in new locations, with new villains. Yet the characters were linked to and inexorably drawn back in a believable way to the events and setting of the first novel, and the climax took place there. The effect was powerful; the place that had haunted the hero in subtle ways throughout the sequel was suddenly front and center. But even then, it was radically changed from the last time he’d been there. There was nothing about the return that felt like a retread. On the other hand, Rookie’s characters are high school students in a small town with one diner. So they revisit the same locations over and over. And the main character endlessly references the events of the previous novel. The effect is numbing and a bit claustrophobic.
- Make the characters grow or change in a new way. The Seasoned Pro was again at an advantage since his character started the sequel decades older, and most of his supporting characters had died or disappeared. But he could very well have had his character follow his father’s story line, for example, or revert to a childlike state. He didn’t, and his character underwent radical changes even over the course of the sequel. Rookie’s characters, since they started at the same status quo as the previous novel, essentially followed the same path of character development. Only this time, I had less faith that what little growth happened would be lasting, since it had been so easily undone the first time around.
- Have a new plot with surprises. This may seem obvious, but so many movie sequels simply reprise the original plot that you can see how Rookie fell into this trap. Her sequel plot was painfully similar; despite the presence of multiple characters with supernatural powers, it was essentially a murder mystery like the first one. Even the red herrings and moments of peril felt like old friends, and that’s not the effect you want your plot to have. The Seasoned Pro, on the other hand, delivered a whole new plot, with rich and satisfying twists, subplots and characters not seen in the previous novel.
- Give us a satisfying ending. This one is tough, because it felt like Seasoned Pro was truly closing out this story at the end, while Rookie was very clearly setting up another sequel. But there wasn’t even a pretense of closure; the cliffhanger was stark and felt cheap, like it was obligating me to read the next novel. This may work in a TV series, maybe in a movie. For me, it didn’t work in a novel. I would have appreciated some false lull before the cliffhanger, something to make it feel like the novel had ended and not just paused.
Thinking about the draft of my sequel, I was relieved to see that I’d avoided many of Rookie’s mistakes, but not all of them. I’m grateful to have stumbled across this accidental lesson in how (and how not) to write a sequel.
