Recently, I fulfilled a lifelong dream of publishing an entire original book series. While publishing took eleven years, the writing spanned over twenty years–close to half my life. The ending of such a significant portion of my creative life has led me to reflect on many lessons I learned the hard way.
Lesson 10: Think about what the book covers should look like in advance of writing the book.
When I was writing the draft of Quivers and Quills, I gave no thought to cover design. At that point, I still hoped that I could pawn off that decision onto someone else. But when I decided to self-publish, I realized that person was me.
I researched book covers and designers and ultimately paid a designer to create a cover I love, but the process was arduous because I had no idea what I wanted. Even worse, I had no idea what would sell. I wish I had been more aware of other books in my genre and noted the covers of books that sold well.
What I’ll do differently next time:
Lesson 9: Avoid locking myself into unique wording or phrasing conventions in titles.
I’m bad at titles. I always have been. A cute phrase, alliteration, poetic device, or literary/pop-culture reference may seem great for one book. However, putting pressure on myself to continue that convention for multiple books is self-defeating and discouraging. That’s why Joyriders strays from the title conventions of the previous five books. The story demanded a different title.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 8: Employ however many POV characters I need to serve the story.
One of the tenets of “good writing” that got drilled into my head while earning my MFA was that a book should have very few point-of-view characters. I understand why only one POV is necessary in a short story, especially if one is teaching fiction. I understand how limited POV brings cohesion to a longer story, such as a novel. But after writing six books in the series, I’ve decided this is an unnecessary rule.
For Quivers and Quills, it made sense to have only Jill and Joanna’s perspectives since they are the “fish out of water” characters and they are apart for most of the plot, so both their perspectives are necessary. I maintained Jill and Joanna’s perspectives throughout the series, but deviations became necessary in each story. For example,
The more I read, the more I discover successful authors who employ multiple POV characters. Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache series and Richard Osman’s Thursday Murder Club series are excellent examples of authors jumping into the heads of whatever character best serves the moment.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 7: Only research what’s necessary for the book.
I love research. There are many, many days when I would rather research than write. While I believe research is valuable, it’s also a handy procrastination tool: “I can’t write this story because I need to research the time period/geography/food/clothing/political climate/weather/vegetation more.” While sometimes this is true, there’s a time when I’m researching as a way to kill time. This was certainly true for me when writing Quivers and Gold Bars. I had a lot of fun, but I spent my energy on research instead of writing.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 6: Build an ensemble cast of characters.
Something I didn’t discover until I started writing a series is that I love a good ensemble cast and the chance for them to shine. The Time-Traveling Twins series focuses on the twins and those closest to them. This was a rule I set early on to help me focus my energy on the main story and not waste more time than I already do on subplots.
Another issue I discovered is that as much as I loved the twins, their perspectives on life didn’t always reflect my middle-aged cynicism and frustration with growing responsibility. Since my cynicism and responsibility have only increased, I’ve channeled much of that into Liam and Rob. Without the ability to express more life perspectives than what the twins embodied, I wouldn’t have been able to finish the series.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 5: Spend more time world-building in advance.
When I started writing Quivers, I had no idea it would be a series. So, I didn’t invest the time in world-building that I wish I had. This negligence (or ignorance) caused me significant creative issues in Joyriders as I tried to find solutions for problems I could have avoided if I’d created more precise rules about how time travel works earlier in the series.
Here’s a prime example: In Quivers, the Widow Tinsley disappears from the middle of a room. In Joyriders, I had to figure out how that was possible since it didn’t correspond to the rules of time travel I made up as I worked my way through the series.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 4: Keep good notes.
While writing a book, I cannot imagine ever forgetting anything about something so precious to me. But invariably, once I move on to the next book in the series, I forget important aspects of the previous books. This was especially true of physical descriptions of places and the names of minor characters. I had some maps and diagrams I had drawn of Pavalonia, but almost everything else lived only in the pages of my previously published books.
As I was writing Joyriders, I wanted the characters to revisit locations from the previous five books. Since I didn’t keep good notes, I spent hours re-reading my books to find the information I needed.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 3: Write shorter books.
I feel so strongly about this lesson that I almost made it number one. Every book in the Time-Traveling Twins series is at least 100,000 words. The final book is just shy of 150,000 words. I love reading long books, but writing long books is entirely different.
Writing all those words in the first place takes a very long time, especially when one has a day job. A long draft can take years to write, and sustaining the level of enthusiasm for the story throughout multiple years is impossible.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 2: Cut some subplots.
Oh, how I love subplots! I love them so much that I generate them in every rough draft paragraph without even meaning to. But the problem with subplots is that they multiply like rabbits and confuse everyone, including me. If I want to write shorter books, something has to be cut, and that will be the subplots. Sometimes simpler really is better.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 1: End it when it’s time.
Most of my favorite book series have a final book. Something about an ending makes all the books in a series more precious. I feel that way about TV shows too. Not every show or book series should go on for twenty seasons or books. Some of them need to be just a few excellent shows or stories so that I can savor their limited excellence. While I’m always sad when a series I love ends, I like that the author brought them to a conclusion the way he/she wanted.
How do you know when it’s time to end a series? I don’t know how it works for other authors, but I knew it was time when there were other stories I wanted to tell more than the ones in the series. Also, the characters in the Time-Traveling Twins series were so infused with situations from my family and personal life that as dynamics and situations changed, I needed to cut ties with the series to stay healthy and grow creatively.
What I’ll do in the future:
Lesson 10: Think about what the book covers should look like in advance of writing the book.
When I was writing the draft of Quivers and Quills, I gave no thought to cover design. At that point, I still hoped that I could pawn off that decision onto someone else. But when I decided to self-publish, I realized that person was me.
I researched book covers and designers and ultimately paid a designer to create a cover I love, but the process was arduous because I had no idea what I wanted. Even worse, I had no idea what would sell. I wish I had been more aware of other books in my genre and noted the covers of books that sold well.
What I’ll do differently next time:
- Keep a file of successful book covers in my genre so I know what readers are attracted to.
- Take notes about ideas for the cover as I write so I have ideas to draw from when it’s time to order the cover.
- Use AI tools to help me generate cover ideas (I don’t draw well) that I can file away and show to a designer when the time comes. Chat GPT’s image generator was crucial in helping me communicate what I thought I wanted with the cover designer of Joyriders. AI didn’t replace a live person designer, but it didn’t help me communicate my visual ideas more clearly.
Lesson 9: Avoid locking myself into unique wording or phrasing conventions in titles.
I’m bad at titles. I always have been. A cute phrase, alliteration, poetic device, or literary/pop-culture reference may seem great for one book. However, putting pressure on myself to continue that convention for multiple books is self-defeating and discouraging. That’s why Joyriders strays from the title conventions of the previous five books. The story demanded a different title.
What I’ll do in the future:
- Carefully select a series name that communicates the essential aspects of the book to take the pressure off the title itself.
- Let the title of a book be whatever it needs to be–forget conventions!
Lesson 8: Employ however many POV characters I need to serve the story.
One of the tenets of “good writing” that got drilled into my head while earning my MFA was that a book should have very few point-of-view characters. I understand why only one POV is necessary in a short story, especially if one is teaching fiction. I understand how limited POV brings cohesion to a longer story, such as a novel. But after writing six books in the series, I’ve decided this is an unnecessary rule.
For Quivers and Quills, it made sense to have only Jill and Joanna’s perspectives since they are the “fish out of water” characters and they are apart for most of the plot, so both their perspectives are necessary. I maintained Jill and Joanna’s perspectives throughout the series, but deviations became necessary in each story. For example,
- In Gold Bars and Tin Stars, Rob became a POV character because the reader needed to know what was happening in the twenty-first century while the twins were time-traveling.
- The bromance I planned for Portals and Poison required both Rob and Liam to be POV characters, especially since they were traveling apart from the twins. However, balancing four POV characters was really tough. I doubted my sanity most of the time and swore I would never have that many POV characters again. That’s why Inkwells and Jail Cells reverted to only Jill and Joanna as POV characters.
- In Serpents and Sharks, the story required Brenna’s perspective, so she became a new POV character.
- As I was writing Joyriders, the need for two additional POV characters beyond Jill and Joanna became apparent. But, remembering my struggles with four POV characters in Portals, I chose to use Jill and Joanna’s POV for the first part of the book and the other two POV characters for the second part.
The more I read, the more I discover successful authors who employ multiple POV characters. Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache series and Richard Osman’s Thursday Murder Club series are excellent examples of authors jumping into the heads of whatever character best serves the moment.
What I’ll do in the future:
- Employ as many POV characters as serve the story while trying to keep this to a reasonable number so I don’t go out of my mind trying to figure out what goes on in each character’s head. (Sometimes it’s better not to know.)
Lesson 7: Only research what’s necessary for the book.
I love research. There are many, many days when I would rather research than write. While I believe research is valuable, it’s also a handy procrastination tool: “I can’t write this story because I need to research the time period/geography/food/clothing/political climate/weather/vegetation more.” While sometimes this is true, there’s a time when I’m researching as a way to kill time. This was certainly true for me when writing Quivers and Gold Bars. I had a lot of fun, but I spent my energy on research instead of writing.
What I’ll do in the future:
- Write first, make a list of what I need to research, and then go back and research only what I need.
Lesson 6: Build an ensemble cast of characters.
Something I didn’t discover until I started writing a series is that I love a good ensemble cast and the chance for them to shine. The Time-Traveling Twins series focuses on the twins and those closest to them. This was a rule I set early on to help me focus my energy on the main story and not waste more time than I already do on subplots.
Another issue I discovered is that as much as I loved the twins, their perspectives on life didn’t always reflect my middle-aged cynicism and frustration with growing responsibility. Since my cynicism and responsibility have only increased, I’ve channeled much of that into Liam and Rob. Without the ability to express more life perspectives than what the twins embodied, I wouldn’t have been able to finish the series.
What I’ll do in the future:
- Create a more diverse ensemble with various perspectives, interests, ages, and backgrounds so I can explore whatever theme or story idea is relevant to my life as I’m writing.
- Look for ways to include more middle-aged and older characters as main characters in my fiction. While I love to read the occasional YA book, I’m getting older, and I want to write about characters who are also getting older while still leaving room for myself to tell the stories of younger characters when I wish.
Lesson 5: Spend more time world-building in advance.
When I started writing Quivers, I had no idea it would be a series. So, I didn’t invest the time in world-building that I wish I had. This negligence (or ignorance) caused me significant creative issues in Joyriders as I tried to find solutions for problems I could have avoided if I’d created more precise rules about how time travel works earlier in the series.
Here’s a prime example: In Quivers, the Widow Tinsley disappears from the middle of a room. In Joyriders, I had to figure out how that was possible since it didn’t correspond to the rules of time travel I made up as I worked my way through the series.
What I’ll do in the future:
- Actually spend time building the world in advance of the story rather than making it up as I go.
- Leave room for escalation and growth so the world I build can sustain multiple stories over time.
Lesson 4: Keep good notes.
While writing a book, I cannot imagine ever forgetting anything about something so precious to me. But invariably, once I move on to the next book in the series, I forget important aspects of the previous books. This was especially true of physical descriptions of places and the names of minor characters. I had some maps and diagrams I had drawn of Pavalonia, but almost everything else lived only in the pages of my previously published books.
As I was writing Joyriders, I wanted the characters to revisit locations from the previous five books. Since I didn’t keep good notes, I spent hours re-reading my books to find the information I needed.
What I’ll do in the future:
- Take the time to draw a map or diagram. While I may see a scene clearly in my head right now, I likely won’t remember it in twelve months.
- Save all maps and diagrams I draw in a file.
- Build a character list with brief descriptions and inspirational photos to help me remember all the minor characters.
- Keep notes on place names and how I describe locations if I want to revisit them in future books.
Lesson 3: Write shorter books.
I feel so strongly about this lesson that I almost made it number one. Every book in the Time-Traveling Twins series is at least 100,000 words. The final book is just shy of 150,000 words. I love reading long books, but writing long books is entirely different.
Writing all those words in the first place takes a very long time, especially when one has a day job. A long draft can take years to write, and sustaining the level of enthusiasm for the story throughout multiple years is impossible.
- After the book is written, editing all those words takes an incredibly long time.
- The longer a book is, the longer an editor will need to review it, and the more it will cost since most editors charge by the word.
- All the reasons above mean books in the series can’t be released very often.
- The longer the book, the more it costs to print or deliver the digital file, which means fewer royalties (since I refuse to mark up the book price to counteract this).
What I’ll do in the future:
- Aim for manuscripts between 50,000-80,000 words and see if writing a shorter story increases my enjoyment.
- Cut up big stories into smaller segments so they can be told in a series of books rather than one giant book.
Lesson 2: Cut some subplots.
Oh, how I love subplots! I love them so much that I generate them in every rough draft paragraph without even meaning to. But the problem with subplots is that they multiply like rabbits and confuse everyone, including me. If I want to write shorter books, something has to be cut, and that will be the subplots. Sometimes simpler really is better.
What I’ll do in the future:
- Be brutal with myself about what subplots are necessary for a story, and then cut the rest.
- Keep a file of subplot ideas for the series. If I have to cut a subplot from one book, maybe I can use it in another.
Lesson 1: End it when it’s time.
Most of my favorite book series have a final book. Something about an ending makes all the books in a series more precious. I feel that way about TV shows too. Not every show or book series should go on for twenty seasons or books. Some of them need to be just a few excellent shows or stories so that I can savor their limited excellence. While I’m always sad when a series I love ends, I like that the author brought them to a conclusion the way he/she wanted.
How do you know when it’s time to end a series? I don’t know how it works for other authors, but I knew it was time when there were other stories I wanted to tell more than the ones in the series. Also, the characters in the Time-Traveling Twins series were so infused with situations from my family and personal life that as dynamics and situations changed, I needed to cut ties with the series to stay healthy and grow creatively.
What I’ll do in the future:
- Pay attention to when I think a series should end.
- Plan the proper ending for a series when I start it so I know where I’m headed.
- End the series when it’s time, no matter how many or how few books are in the series.
- Give readers a sense of closure when the series ends–something I hope I did well in Joyriders.
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