With my first book about to hit shelves on the
Amazon store, my mind has been running on overdrive in preparation for writing
the second installment. Unfortunately, what I initially anticipated to be a
“hurdle” to overcome has seemed to manifest into facing the Ironman Triathlon
of writing monsters.
Let’s face it. When it comes to sequels,
whether it be in book or movie format, the odds of matching or surpassing the
original really aren’t in one’s favor. We’ve all watched or read that
masterpiece of a product, waiting anxiously in anticipation for the follow-up
to arrive so that we can satisfy our enthusiastic cravings of plunging back
into the ingenious world created by its maker, only then to be dealt the devastating
blow of being introduced to a less than satisfactory outcome.
The moviemaking world is notorious for this.
When a well-executed, primed scripted, perfect casted film that turns a healthy
profit at the box-office and is well received by critics, it’s destined to have
a sequel spawned from it, despite the fact that the story was good and solid
for only one go-around. The next film is typically rushed, has a
haphazard screenplay, is riddled with clichés, and always has a higher body
count if it falls in the action genre. This leads clever, inventive films such
as Jaws to shudder at the agonizing thought of the disasters like
Jaws: The Revenge that seem to follow.
Now, for those in the boat such as myself,
filmmakers and novelist do on occasion go into the process of making an initial
product, knowing very well that there will be a continuation. In intended
series, it is key to hook the audience in with a solid first installment. When
that’s been achieved, you head into the dangerous waters of the “sequel
conundrum.” How does one overcome this obstacle?
Especially in regard to mapping out trilogies,
the second installment generally falls short due to the fact that it usually
serves simply as buildup for the grand finale saved for book/movie number
three. So in the midst of some two hours of screen time or four hundred pages
of a book, we come to find that nothing really substantial happens. Its mere
function is to be the upsurge in information that is going to be paid off in
the next/final installment.
This conundrum can be fatal to a book series,
and it is far too common. Let’s face it, in Twilight Saga: New Moon,
what’s the plot? Really? We constantly read books where the author is trying to
keep readers entertained with the style and world they’ve created, so much in
fact that we wind up being reintroduced to the exact same story being retold.
The main characters were already well-defined in the first book. The reader
knows who they are. We don’t need to do it again. The tribulations that were
established in the first book are still the same at the beginning of the
second. The world surrounding your protagonist was already invented. So where
do you go? There needs to be a genuine and entirely new inner plot for book
two, while at the same time, it needs to advance the series’ overall story line that leads
into the third book.
The Breakdown:
Book One: The Introduction. It’s about
setting the playing field. You need to know the players, a.k.a. the main
characters. You need to create the stadium, the world in which all this will be
taking place. You need to know the stakes. What is on the line?
Book Two: The Battle. When executed to
perfection, this is The Dark Knight. We know Gotham. We know all
about its cast list. It’s time to let the games begin. This is when everything
implodes and explodes, from characters’ inner turmoil to the physical events
taking place. Some resolve is found, some lessons are learned, but there’s
still a storm brewing, a storm whose ferocity is growing the closer it
comes.
Book Three: The War. Time to strap on
your armor and unsheathe your sword. This is what everything has be leading up
to. It’s the climax of the story, what two previous installments have been
foreshadowing. The bloody, tragic, heart wrenching, devastatingly beautiful
conclusion of this imaginary world.
So, here’s the challenge: How does one go
about writing The Dark Knight of a second installment amid the
many problematic issues hindering so many others’ works? How does one construct
a solid, separate work of art that is just as captivating as its predecessor
without falling into the trap of simply redressing the same story and retelling
it? How do you create the perfect midpoint of the series, saving the best for
last, without making the book feel like it’s dragging (like Lord of the
Rings: The Two Towers, *cough)?
Hmmm… What a challenge indeed.
