the sequel problem

finally I get it

Hello, sequelintimators. A few months ago, as I explained in a sequel and not, I had come to a realisation that the approach I’ve been taking on my sequel since the start of this year has an unexpected side effect: having decided to tell the story from the point of view of one of the original characters and one new one, my sequel is only a sequel in alternate chapters. I decided to take my foot off the pedal and think about this more carefully. In the meantime, as I talked about in queer querying, I’ve been sending out the first novel to agents. The process of describing my novel to agents led me to a few further thoughts about it and I ended up doing another pass through it making a few minor edits. More on that next time.

Meanwhile, I’ve been mulling over the sequel, and I also shared chapter 8 with my queer novelists writing group, which turned out to be very enlightening. Chapter 8 is when the two point-of-view characters meet for the first time, their stories having advanced in parallel up to that point.

I was already starting to think, if this story is about these two characters, shouldn’t chapter 8 actually be chapter 1? I’m still in two minds about this, because I see this sequel as being mainly about a place with a bunch of characters in, rather than being about the relationship between two characters, and yet it feels odd for their stories to be so separate at first. And I just can’t see how to write a commercial novel with four point of view characters: the stories I want to tell about them would move glacially slowly if they only advanced once every 4 chapters.

Another problem, which has been at the back of my mind all year, is that continuing Ashley’s story felt “soapy” – that’s how I think of it – just a potboiling series of further events in his life without much at stake. The main thing that happens to him is he loses his job, but he’s 30 and has had a few jobs and it’s the 1980s and he has an English degree, so he has no hope of a career as such. In the first book, every chapter is about the problems he and Roy face in their relationships: communication problems, navigating relationships, understanding how to have a queer life with no role models, family problems, AIDS and more. Problems make for drama, lack of problems is just soap, right?

Anyway, this issue came into focus when I got feedback from my writing group: several people pointed out that they couldn’t tell what Ashley wants in chapter 8. He seems passive. And actually, I’m not sure what he wants, which is why it came out that way, as did chapters 2, 4 and 6. And in fact his essential character has always been rather passive and lackadasical. In the first book he even tells another character that he drifted through his 20s. While Roy has a strong work ethic and a need for security, Ashley isn’t a hard worker, knowing he can always fall back on his parents (he ends up back living with them several times in his 20s). It’s a key part of the contrast between them in Parallel Lines, and a source of friction. The one thing that Ashley cares about, and strives for in the first book, is romance. But by 30, he has that part of his life sorted out.

At the moment I can see three ways to address this narrative problem: I can sabotage his happy relationship yet again, or I can give him something new to want and strive for, or I can reduce him to a background character and pick someone with bigger problems as a foreground character - or maybe just make Kit the sole point of view character. Which would mean throwing away half of what I’ve written so far and re-plotting the whole thing. In fact any of the three options mean a lot of re-plotting. Or there is always a fourth option of not addressing it, and leaving his part of the story feeling soapy – am I just overthinking this?

I have some holiday coming up in a fortnight, which I will naturally spend writing, so I need to make up my mind which of these four paths I’m going to pick by then. Any comments or suggestions in the meantime are welcome, of course.