All in the Series

One way to get published is to write a series featuring the same core cast of characters. The principle works the same as in a TV series. A reader is entranced by certain characters and enjoys watching the different permutations you put them through in successive books. As an author, a series offers some distinct advantages. You do not have to invent a new protagonist, the most difficult task in fiction writing. You also will have a pretty good handle on a handful of characters. Such in-depth knowledge of an ensemble helps make them stand out as individuals.

Yet several pitfalls await the uncritical author. The most serious lies in your assuming, because you know the characters from the last book so well, that the reader does too. Most series are not numbered, so the person picking up the book may know nothing about the earlier books. Even if a reader has read the previous book, that may have occurred awhile ago. They may remember vaguely how much they liked a certain hero, but you have to go through the same introductory steps to remind them of the essential characteristics that make the character stand out. The protagonist still has to dazzle early on to pull the reader into the book.

As for the supporting cast, laying out the basic lines of relationships is even more important. You don’t have to be as exhaustive as the first time around, but you better not plunge us into the middle of an exciting scene and assume that we know how everyone is going to react.  

The second major danger falls under the “cast of thousands” listing. When you are getting started with a new book, still not sure of the direction it is going to take, you can find yourself meandering about, checking in with delightful characters who appeared in previous books rather than focusing only on those characters who will be lead players in the present book.

The imperative to push a novel forward in the early going applies to every book you write. The only way that can happen is if you choose one clear plot line that pushes the story forward. Gabbing with a bunch of past inmates in your asylum isn’t doing that. What matters is this book. You have a responsibility to the (possibly new) reader who paid the sticker price for this book.

Exercise: Be ruthlessly honest with yourself in this regard. Review the first 5-10 chapters, looking merely at the way you are setting up the characters. Did you provide enough of an initial description of the main character for a fresh reader to be captivated? Draw up a chart that lists a one-line synopsis for each scene. Do you find that the hero is merely sitting around chatting with past friends rather than plunging into a fresh crisis? Screw the friends, or drop them into the book later. You have a new readership to entertain. Get to work.

“If you would understand anything, observe its beginning and its development.” ―Aristotle

Copyright @ 2024, John Paine