Michael Wu - Sequels, Prequels, and Spinoffs: A Story About Writing Fiction

Disclaimer: This is not a book review. I know that's what almost everybody else has posted so far, but I wanted to mix things up a little. So here's an original story written by me about the life of a book series. I also want to mention that the idea for this story began when I was reading the book Ender's Shadow by Orson Scott Card, which is a spinoff of the original Ender's Game. But since I already made a review of the Ender series, I came up with this instead. I hope you enjoy it!

- Michael

 

Sequels, Prequels, and Spinoffs: A Story About Writing Fiction

    

Let’s say you’re the author of a bestselling novel. You’ve mastered the English language, learned the ways of the 26 letters, and channeled your creative talent into this work, your magnum opus. The public has absolutely loved your book. Everyone and their dog has read it. This is what your entire life as a creative writer has led up to. Maybe it was all worth it in the end. But alas, it is customary of human nature to never, ever have enough. The masses gather in front of your house, demanding for more of that sweet reading content. And let’s not get confused here: they don’t want a new, completely original plotline, for humans are also afraid of change. You gave them gold, and they want more. They want continuity. They want you to take that story they love so much and stretch it out, extend it, add to it. They want you to reinvent the wheel and keep it rolling forever. Well, you heard them, get to it!

    As a result of your refined and tasteful storytelling, you’ve created a rich and intricate world, and now it is up to you to keep it spinning. At this point, I think we’re all thinking the same thing: time travel. At first, you consider rewinding back to when you were a small, innocent child and picking some better life choices. But you’re no quitter. So instead, we’re going to turn back the clock in your fictional universe, back to before your (incredibly well-structured and decently paced) narrative ever started, and elaborate on the totally-not-convoluted backstory of the main character that has now become an icon. Now, you’re an expert at regretting past decisions, so you should have no problem funneling your own web of grievances into this prequel, but you’re able to use your descriptive talent to smooth it out and make it feel like a completely fictional conflict. You’re ready to publish now. And not a moment too soon. The public eats it up faster than you can eat your words after telling yourself, “Surely this one won’t do nearly as good.” It did, though, and the people are still hungry. Now what?

    It’s now that you realize you were so busy thinking about the past that you forgot what your readers asked from you in the first place. They said they wanted continuity, implying you should’ve extended the first book from where it left off at the end. Instead, you tacked on a whole other story to the front. I guess I can’t blame you for going against the grain and trying to fight the establishment. But in the publishing world, fighting the establishment just means losing money. Fine, we’ll let the people get what they want. Let’s tear apart the ending you so thoughtfully tied together and slap on some more words. After several months of working your magic, you finally have a brand new story that picks up where the first one left off. This sequel actually has the exact same plot as the original, but don’t worry. You’ve switched around enough characters and settings that it feels different, and that’s what matters. Besides, your readers supposedly want the same experience. Otherwise, you would’ve moved on from this whole dumpster fire a long time ago. Hopefully, this release will be the last one.

    Anyway, flash forward, it’s been 7 years, and your book series is still somehow holding on in the eyes of the press. Your sequel did fine but not as well as the original, of course. You’ve also added two more books to the collection, which did ok, but after the first sequel, people kind of saw this coming, and your series is getting pretty watered down. But not anymore. You’re about to publish the true final novel. The one that ties together every loose end and will surely stop the community from constantly annoying you. Your creative talent is still nothing to scoff at, and your final book rocks the world upon publication. You did it. You put an end to this series that should’ve expired half a decade ago. But you know the drill at this point, the people still want more. They always want more. But you’re determined to keep your promise: that book you just wrote will be the last in the series. If you’re going to appease the masses, you’ll have to figure out how to continue this story without continuing this story. I know. It’s bonkers. What if you make a spinoff? That’s right, a side story that hasn’t shifted forward or backward through time. You’re essentially retelling the first book from the perspective of a previously minor group of characters. Try to reignite whatever spark made the original installment so good. If you’re feeling really adventurous, maybe consider making this spinoff its own series. That will be “fun,” right?

    You stop yourself before continuing. This is once again a moment of regret. You’ve spent so long listening to how other people think your story should continue. It’s always, “make more of this” or “make more of that,” but all it has done is weigh down your first work of art. Why do you even care so much about what these people think of your book? Are they the ones writing? Do they have the literary genius you do? No! You are in control of what you write, and if you believe this show has run its course, then it’s your job to shut it down. It’s time to move on. Walk away. Quit while you’re ahead. Your story was perfect the way it was. Don’t ruin it any more than you already have.

    It’s time to start inventing new ideas. Start unlocking your full potential. Create a new masterpiece from the ground up. You’ve got the talent and skills to do it. Work your creative magic, master of English.

Michael Wu