Welcome back to another month of The Iron Jaw, a monthly column on writing tips and finding inspiration. This month we are talking about writing series. As the author of four different children’s series, I can attest to my fondness for writing multiple installments of a story! Some of my all-time favorite books were part of a series. There’s something magical about being able to connect with a cast of characters over time, becoming more and more invested in them as the story unfolds. It’s all the more heartbreaking to say goodbye when the story finally wraps up—but those characters tend to stay with us for a long time after we turn the final page.

The advantages of writing a series is you always know what you’re going to write about next! Your cast of characters is primed and ready to be put to work, and the hard work of world-building has been largely established. If the author does a good job with the first book, readers will fall in love with their characters and be hungry for the next volume. The first book can be the most important—setting your hooks into the reader—until the next book—which has to be just as good if not better to keep them hooked!

The difficulty of writing a series is first and foremost making sure your characters are up to the task of carrying a reader’s interest over a long story line. That puts a lot of pressure on your main character to be someone your reader is going to be willing to invest time with page after page, which means they have to be likeable on many levels. At the same time, the character has to be growing and changing so there is room in their character arc for the series to continue to blossom and evolve.

If you’re contemplating writing a series, here are some things to consider:

Decide What Kind Of Series You’re Writing

Some series are open-ended and follow a set of characters on different adventures with no through-line plot. The Magic Treehouse series is a good example of that—Jack and Annie go on countless similar but charming adventures—28 volumes worth! Each novel follows a similar pattern but has a unique problem the characters have to solve.

Other series have a plot line that underpins the entire series, driving to an inevitable conflict resolution in the final installment. Harry Potter epitomizes this, with each novel containing a subplot that drives the storyline closer to the resolution of the main conflict—Voldemort’s unquenchable thirst for power—leaving Harry and Voldemort to face off in the climax of the last book, effectively ending the series.

Think Ahead

Before you write that first book in a series, you need to give some thought to how the series is going to end. If it’s an open-ended series, it’s important to think through how many volumes you anticipate. Are the characters going to age? How fast? Jack and Annie in Magic Treehouse series barely age over the 28 books of the series whereas Harry Potter advances a year in each book.

If there’s a through-line plot point to the end—it is imperative that the author fully explore where it’s headed up front to make sure the conflict doesn’t wrap up too early, or the story fizzles out. To that end, the through-line conflict must be BIG and MESSY and nearly impossible to solve.

Leave Readers Hooked

I admit, one of my favorite parts of writing series is wrapping up the main conflict in the story, only to find out on nearly the last page, that some new, even bigger problem has been triggered as a result of the characters actions. For a brief moment, our reader felt relief that things were back to normal, only to have the rug pulled out from under their feet as this startling new development is revealed, and then nothing. The End. Cue the reader cursing you silently in their head as they stare at the page, wondering how soon you’re going to write that next story.

Committing to The End

Starting a series takes commitment. Imagine you’re in the midst of your favorite series and the author decides not to finish it—or worse—like a certain popular author of a series about fire and ice, take years and years to deliver the next installment! Don’t start a series if you don’t intend to see it through leaving loyal readers hanging.

This month the third book in my Witches of Orkney series, Witch Wars, arrives on shelves! This prequel series is meant for younger middle grade readers, ideally 3rd grade to 6th grade. The story follows Abigail, a nine-year-old witchling at the Tarkana Witch Academy as she struggles to determine exactly what kind of witch she’s going to become. With traces of Norse mythology, Witch Wars sees Abigail trying to defeat a powerful alchemist named Vertulious. Enjoy this excerpt!

EXCERPT

“Abigail, I hear you have met an Omera before. Even tamed one. Come, share with the class.” He beckoned her forward.

Abigail stood, knowing if she didn’t, he would simply force her feet to move. On her way to the front, she passed Endera, who trembled with rage.

“Tell the class what you know about these magnificent creatures.” Vertulious had a calculating look in his eyes. He was up to something, but she couldn’t decipher what it was.

“They’re not all bad,” she ventured. “I met some that were kind of nice.”

Vertulious laughed. “Nice? An Omera can rip a man to shreds with just its talons. Did you know the Omera were created centuries ago by a Volgrim witch to fight at our side? It has been eons since this coven had the power to control them. It is time we showed them who they work for.”

“They’re wild animals, not pets,” Abigail said. “We can’t control them or own them.” The very thought was appalling.

“The Omera have forgotten who they belong to,” Vertulious replied icily. “We created them. We rule over them. We just need to remind them of that and bring them to heel.”

Abigail stared at the cruelty in his eyes, thinking of Big Mama and her little babes. They weren’t meant to be tamed, but before she could argue, he clamped a hand on her shoulder.

“Come, let’s do the metamorphis spell together, shall we?”

A sudden suspicion made the hair on the back of her neck rise. He was pulling strings like a puppeteer, getting her in front of the class like this—but why? Then the answer was obvious. He must not be able to do it by himself, or he would have done so. Abigail shrugged free and took a step back. “No. I’m not going to help you.”

His eyes hardened into steel points. “This class is an important part of your placement here at the Tarkana Witch Academy. I would hate for you to be expelled.”

Abigail gasped. He would nev`er . . . but she read the coldness in his stare. He didn’t really care. Right now, he needed her to help him with this metamorphis spell, and nothing else mattered.

Vertulious unscrewed the lid on a jar. Abigail recognized the ingredient, gallillium, the same one Portia had mentioned.

He opened the cage door—ignoring the spitting, hissing shreek—and snapped his fingers. The shreek froze on its perch. He pried open its beak, sprinkling some of the gallillium powder down its throat.

“Now, class, the gallillium will make the shreek bigger, but to create metamorphis, we need something from an Omera to spark the change.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a pointed tooth. “Like this fang I found walking in the swamps one day.” He waved his left hand, causing the air in front of the shreek to swirl. The creature’s eyes moved wildly from side to side as a hole in its chest grew larger.

Was that its tiny heart beating away?

Vertulious slipped the fang into its chest and then waggled his finger.

The hole sealed up, and the shreek shook itself, hissing at them.

“Now say the words with me,” Vertulious said. “Cabela ello morpheus.”

Abigail remained mute. This was wrong. If she was expelled, so be it.

The alchemist leaned in and spoke in her ear. “Do it now, or your little Balfin friend might have a terrible accident.”

Abigail’s heart clenched.

“Don’t be shy,” Vertulious said loudly. “Everyone is waiting.”

The whole class had gone silent. Even Endera raised her eyes to see what would happen next.

Abigail took a deep breath, hating herself but knowing she didn’t have a choice. “Cabela ello morpheus.”

“Now a source of power.” Vertulious raised his hand and unleashed a blaze of green witchfire that circled the cage and made the shreek freeze. “Join me,” he commanded.

Reluctantly, she raised her hands and released her own blast of witchfire. Oddly, he didn’t ask her to remove her sea emerald, so her witchfire was as green as his.

The class oohed as their twin blasts of witchfire joined, turning the cage into a glowing orb that lifted off the table, then simply disappeared. The shreek remained trapped in the center of the ball of light.

“Repeat the words again,” he said.

Abigail wanted to resist, but Hugo’s face flashed in front of her.

“Cabela ello morpheus.”

The shreek began to spin in the air, twirling faster and faster until it was a blur. A ball of mist grew larger and larger around it, shrouding it from sight.

Finally, Vertulious held a hand up, and Abigail dropped her hands, gasping with fatigue.

The mist cleared, unveiling a hulking black winged creature perched on the table. The shreek continued to grow, swelling and expanding as a spiked tail emerged and its snout lengthened, adding a row of sharp pointed teeth. One leg extended toward the floor; the other kicked the table away, sending it crashing into the wall.

The creature opened one eye, revealing a red stare that was pure evil.

Vertulious stepped closer and reached out a tentative hand to touch the snout. Abigail half hoped the shreek-Omera would leap on the alchemist and do away with him, but it simply butted its snout against his hand. Vertulious smiled, then turned to face the class. “Job well done, Abigail.” He clapped, and the class joined in—all except for Endera, who just glared at her.

Cold dread penetrated her bones.

What had she done?