This weekend I saw the movie Nine. I adore Rob Marshall (director of Chicago), and I found myself duly wowed by the visual candy even as I was wrenched by the wrenching emotional drama.
Nine, for those who’ve never heard of the Broadway play or current film adaptation, is the story of Guido Contini, an Italian director of the Cinema Moderna period (think Fellini) who is struggling to put together his ninth film. He was hailed as a genius (a maestro) for his early work, but his last few have been unanimously declared to be flops. A jaw-dropping parade of women act as his inspiration as he wrestles with his latest attempt at immortality.
At one point in the film, Guido is talking with the costume designer (played by Judi Dench) who is his confessor, of sorts. He bemoans the fact that he cannot figure out what exactly made his first films so brilliantly successful. If only he knew why they all loved the first ones, then he would be able to replicate it again and again. Dame Judi scolds him. That way lies madness. Don’t look back. Always forward. He must always start from scratch. Art has to be new.
That moment really resonated with me. I’m no maestro, but I can relate. Whenever we have success with a manuscript – whether it’s Golden Heart recognition, publication, critical acclaim, or best-sellerdom – we are then inevitably faced with the task of doing it again. The romance author cannot live by one book alone. This is a career, and that means we need a sequel. And another.
I know some of my fellow Rubies have sold in multiple book deals and are now dealing with producing the second and third books of their contracts. Others are working on sequels for agents while still more are hoping to replicate their contest successes with a new manuscript this year. Wherever we are in our careers, we all need that next book to be just as good (better, hopefully) than the one with which we first found success.
The hardest part, for me, is what Guido said – figuring out what was so great about Number One, so I can do it again the second time around. I love all my stories, but why did that one sell, why did that one win the GH, and why did that one get great reviews? What is the secret behind the success?
I remember when Desperate Housewives first came on the air. I loved the first season, but now I just can’t watch it. It’s gotten too ridiculous. I think what made the show such a success during the first season was the fact that it was so easily relateable. Everyone knew a Bree or a Lynette. They were just like us. Now, I don’t know who they are. I think the creators of the show lost sight of what made them good. I didn’t watch for the wildness of the secrets people were trying to hide, but rather the believability of the characters. I stopped watching because the story stopped being real (or even remotely plausible) to me.
And we all know of authors (no naming names!) who have started off strong, only to struggle as their books turn into formulaic regurgitation. None of us want to be that author. We want to be the one who gets better with every book. And the weight of that desire can sometimes be heavy as we sit down to write the follow-up.
Or, in my case, as we wait for the follow-up to release. My second lion-shifter story releases as an ebook in two weeks and I’m on tenterhooks. I don’t understand what made the first one in the series take off the way it did, and that makes me uneasy. What if I pulled a Desperate Housewives and completely missed the mark of what made Serengeti Heat so popular? What if Serengeti Storm is a flop? What if Serengeti Heat was a fluke? What if, what if, what if…
I’m nervous – there’s no getting around that – but I’m also going to listen to Dame Judi. No looking back. Only forward. People will either like Serengeti Storm or they won’t. I can’t write every story trying to replicate the one that worked before. I have to start from scratch. Make something fresh and new. Write each one the best I can and don’t obsess about recapturing past success, or overcoming past failure.
That’s my New Year’s message. Live in the now. Write to the future. Every book is a fresh start.
What about you? Do you feel the weight of living up to contest finals and multi-book deals? Or is every new book a new adventure, untainted by past failure or success?
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Oh, this is an awesome post, Vivi! I so worry about this same thing. My editor loves my first ms in a series I’m working on so much, what if I can’t do it again? What if it was a fluke? What if book two sucks? Book three?
I don’t worry about it constantly, or stew in my own insecurities, but it is there, in the back of my head. I can only do what I can do. I think I have the elements of a good book down, the twists and turns that makes a ms un-put-down-able. Then again…how do we ever really know?
I guess time will tell.
Darynda,
I’m glad you aren’t consumed by insecurities. I wish I could tell you how to get rid of that shadow in the back of your mind, but maybe we need it? Maybe that little flicker of nervous doubt is part of what gives us the determination to write a rockstar book every time.
I have confidence that time will tell that books two and three were just as un-put-downable as #1 – and I’m sure I’m not the only one. Good luck!