I’ve finished A Curse of Venom & Scales!!

Okay. Because I schedule most of my content, I’m a tad late in sharing the news. I officially finished the manuscript on the 23rd of August. I’m so late, in fact, that the first beta readers have given me their feedback, and others are progressing swiftly on the manuscript. Oops.

I can’t even begin to explain the relief and joy, but the best part about this draft of Book Three is that I’m so, so proud of it—a feeling I didn’t remotely associate with the last draft.

With that in mind, I wanted to update this old post about writing sequels.

Sequels are easier to get into.

The first book in the series typically has the most info dumps. We must set the scene, build the characters and world, explain how the magic works, explore the politics and social dynamics, and so on.

Even in novels set in a well-known modern setting, we still have to build our characters and their direct surroundings. Someone’s bedroom or apartment can tell us who they are, so it’s important to get it right.

With a sequel, the important stuff is already established. We might still introduce new characters or places, but that’s easier than building an entire cast and world. For example, we don’t need to be told hobbits like to eat or that dwarves and elves don’t trust each other in The Two Towers. We already know Sauron is evil, we understand the way the ring drains Frodo’s strength, we know which fantastical races/creatures to expect, and we have a fair grasp of the limitations of the world’s magic system. Because the foundation is strong, the story builds.

Progress is awesome.

It’s like building a house. Book One is the foundation, and that’s exciting in its own right, but it’s difficult to picture what the rooms will look like from a series of trenches and ropes.

The walls go up when we write sequels. We have a clearer picture of the house and know the walls will be steady because of the strong foundation. This house will stand.

Because we’re now building upward, we get to glimpse the possibilities of where this story will lead.

There’s more pressure.

There’s safety in the anonymity of a debut. Nobody has read it yet, so only our mother and her cat will be disappointed if it bombs.

Then, a few good reviews roll in. (I am so lucky to have these. Thank you to everyone who’s taken the time to write a review.)

Suddenly, people are asking for a sequel. Nobody cared before, but now there’s some pressure.

Additionally, a sequel sets the tone for everything that is to come. By the third book, most readers will be forgiving if it isn’t as good as the second, but the second book can make or break a fanbase.

We want the second book to be better than the first. Even if we have a fanbase of eight, it would be a bummer if they didn’t feel as strongly about the sequel as Book One.

The fear is real, folks.

We don’t want to remain at the same skill level, and that applies to every aspect of our lives. We want to grow, right? Improve. So, even if this new pressure is just a personal thing, it still complicates writing the sequel.

Personal experience.

A Study of Ash & Smoke was a steep learning curve. I had no idea what I was doing, and that’s why the process of polishing that book took so long. {The TL;DR version. I pantsed the story, hit many snags, entered multiple rewrites, and after 5 years of heavy editing and finessing, I finally published the book.}

But I learned oodles from my debut and A Trial of Sparks & Kindling was a breeze. I finished the manuscript in a writing sprint of seven weeks—the first book of mine that needed no rewrites. From conception to publishing in under a year. I never doubted the story and was proud of the book from the moment I completed it.

I applied everything I’d learned from Book One. I still have pretty intense impostor syndrome and am almost constantly doubting my writing ability. Still, it isn’t difficult to see this book is much tighter than my debut (a fact my alpha and beta teams, editors, and readers commented on).

It’s good to see personal growth in something tangible.

Will I still have moments of crippling self-doubt? Yes. In fact, it’s creeping in as I type this, because I was confident enough to say my writing has improved. Self-doubt wants to knock me down a peg. Writers, am I right?

Meanwhile, A Curse of Venom & Scales had a meltdown at the front door, and stayed there, kicking and screaming, for over four years and 13 drafts. Yes. THIRTEEN.

Writing during the pandemic certainly carries a share of the blame. My mental health took a major knock, and I later learned some physical health factors were to blame, too. Once I had that sorted, I didn’t have the capacity to write and I took a two-year break. The creative block, in turn, further starved my mental health and contributed to a circle of suck that I never want to experience again.

But, thank goodness, medication and therapy helped. I decided to scrap the dreaded lockdown draft and rewrite the story. I started writing the new draft on December 2nd 2023 and finished on August 23 2024.

Still, Book Three does share certain traits with the first book in a series. Because the world has changed so much and we spent Book Two in a different location, returning to this changed Roicester was almost like describing the setting for the first time. We also have a new viewpoint character, which means many new characters and places. I didn’t want the third book to feel like the saggy middle of the series, so setting up all these added characters and places gave me major info-dump anxiety.

Additionally, I was extremely worried about word count this time around—I didn’t want the book to be too long. It became a mini obsession that kept me awake too often. After multiple pep talks from my cousin Shants, I’m mostly okay with it now (180k words for the third instalment of a series doesn’t feel too much) but I still feel iffy about it sometimes. I can’t explain it.

For me, this third book has been the greatest creative struggle ever. No novel, artwork, or any other creative project has ever caused me this level of burnout, anxiety, and general lack of energy, and I sincerely hope nothing ever does again. That said, the pride I have for this book is off the charts, too. I finished it, and that’s an achievement worthy of celebration.

Anyway, that’s it from me. Those of you who have some experience in the sequel writing department, please comment below with your experiences. I’d love to hear from you.

Until next time.

Yolandie.