AVERIL ROBERTSON

You all know that thrill of anticipation, combined with a vague, creeping dread, when a writer whose debut novel you enjoyed has their second book released. You so desperately want it to be as amazing as the first, but also give something more. The pressure on the author to deliver must be unbelievable. And yet, pretty much every author gives it a red-hot go. I’m sure for some authors they are contractually obliged to, but for most it will likely be because they simply cannot not write. And so, book two makes its way to our bookshelves. What are some of the challenges the author might have faced in the process?

One of the biggest challenges that plays out quite often is when the author has put so much of themselves into their first book, they find they have depleted the pool of their self-perceived ‘interesting’ direct experience. If book one is so often nudging at the edge of what we now call auto-fiction, what can they possibly draw on for book two? Some authors approach this by essentially drawing on the same themes but with different plot details. It’s something of a win-win – the author can continue to write on the themes they care about and feel informed on, and the reader has the comfort of a familiar yet new work. However, if the author goes for something utterly new and different, they will inevitably gain some new readers and lose others, and will have to manage the idea that they may have let down someone. Losing even just one reader hurts. 

As a reader, one of the most beautiful second-book experiences is when the author embarks on a series and you get to hang out again with the cast you fell in love with the first time around. I just adore this. Michael Bennett’s Hana Westerman, Sarah Bailey’s Gemma Woodstock, Garry Disher’s Hirsch – the second books are such a joy (yes, they’re all crime fiction. What of it?). The characters deepen, and we love them even more for it. However, the author has the challenge of explaining enough about the characters and their book-one lives that the virgin reader coming in at book two isn’t lost, but not so explain-y that seasoned book-one readers get bored. The challenge of balancing these needs is real. Indeed, I’m facing it right now as I embark on a sequel to my first novel.

Another challenge I’m sure must bring immense creative difficulties is that, while you had all the time in the world to produce your first book (unless you somehow landed a book deal before you’d written it … pretty much unheard of), your second book comes with the time expectations of an agent, a publisher, and an entire readership. Everyone wants the book immediately. For your first book, you could spend a leisurely month down a research rabbit hole on the nuances of when and how Chinese takeaway food became ubiquitous in Christchurch (I have been down that hole), suddenly you need to research quickly and accurately, and somehow also put together inspiring and satisfying words for your actual, real-life audience. I met an author recently who already had two completed manuscripts up her sleeve when she landed a publishing deal, but now book three needs to be delivered in a fraction of the time she had to write those first two while she sought a publisher. It’s a completely different writing experience.

These are just a small number of the book-two terrors. As readers, we pine for and hopefully revel in a second book from a new author we loved. As writers, we agonise in a way that is completely different than for book one. The struggle is real for everyone involved. Thank goodness writers are made of hardy stuff – they have to be, with the publishing industry as cutthroat as it is – and deliver into readers’ hands, in most cases, a polished gem that brings the warm fuzzies.