I’m
currently writing a prequel.
But it’s
not really a prequel. Think of it as a
long “flashback” instead.
A true
prequel, along with taking place before the events of a previously published
novel, should also be self-contained, separate, readable on its own. It can contribute to the first book, helping
us to understand the events and characters in it, but it shouldn’t matter if
you read the first book or not before reading the prequel. (I use the phrase “first book” to refer to
the first-written and first-published novel).
Indeed, some readers insist on reading the prequel before getting near
the first book.
But I
really don’t want people reading the prequel first. The original novel, The Man Who Loved Alien Landscapes, is the true start of the Mykol
Ranglen series (of my special adventurer, poet, and loner in space). The prequel’s events are related to the
events of the first book, not in the sense that they provide the foundation for
what occurs in the first book, but that those events are more understandable if
the first book has already been read.
Though it’s not required for approaching
the prequel, the reading might be more significant and rewarding if the book
written first is also read first.
The Man Who Loved Alien Landscapes is
like the first movement in a musical composition that has four parts: a relatively fast and direct opening (the first
novel), a flashback to crucial events in the character’s past (the prequel, In a Suspect Universe, which I’m working
on now), then an “experimental” musical section that will be a published
collection of Ranglen’s own poems (called Temporary
Planets for Transitory Days), and then an ultimate “sequel” which will comprise
the conclusion of the whole Ranglen epic (tentatively entitled Galaxy Time).
Or, at
least, the conclusion for now.
The
first novel even ends with two hints of both the prequel and the sequel, and
we’ve already been told in that book—and shown—some of Ranglen’s writings.
So the
preferred order of reading is this:
1.
The Man
Who Loved Alien Landscapes - first
written novel in the series
2.
In a
Suspect Universe – prequel or flashback
3.
Temporary
Planets for Transitory Days – poetry collection, authored by Mykol Ranglen,
the protagonist
4.
Galaxy
Time – sequel and conclusion to the series (for now)
But even
with this careful plan, all the problems of writing a prequel still arise, and
need to be kept in mind when structuring and working the manuscript:
·
make sure the events (and resolutions) of the
first novel are not “given away” in the prequel,
·
do not contradict anything that happens in the
first novel,
·
be very clear about your timelines when
composing the book—make sure that the prequel has enough time and space for the
story to unfold before the events of the first book.
The temptation for any writer is to explore, in the
prequel, more aspects of what has been created, the characters and their worlds. But these cannot contradict what was learned
about them in the first book, and we can’t reveal too much more knowledge of both the villains and the main characters because
that might modify—subtly and unexpectedly—what occurs in the first book.
I’m
lucky, because the story, the specific events, for In a Suspect Universe do not take place on the same planets as The Man Who Loved Alien Landscapes. This helps to control any latent
contradictions between the prequel’s “later” worlds (in terms of composition)
and “earlier” worlds (in terms of chronology).
And I
have several narrative rabbits hidden in my author’s hat to counter paradoxes
or subtle inconsistencies that still might arise. Which—sorry!—can’t be discussed here.
The
biggest point to remember is that
·
you often have to hold back your creativity
instead of encouraging it.
The best plot twist might mess up the future and render
the events of the first book impossible.
The most interesting detail about your character’s past might change the
later personality of that character. And
the really fascinating new information about your world you might need to
subdue, because it could transform your later setting into a different
place.
In
writing a sequel, you feel like a person from a time-travel story who has gone
into the past and must be very careful you don’t do anything to change your own
existence in the future. If, let’s say, your
protagonist prevents his parents from getting together, then—good-bye, protagonist.
So you’re not just governed by realism and believability when you write
prequels, but also the need to keep the whole galaxy together, to avoid paradox
and contaminated reality.
All in
all, when producing a prequel, you still think about character and setting and
plot and style, all the normal stuff you consider when writing fiction, but you
also have to keep causality straight—you don’t mess with the Schrodinger
equation.
·
You have to be more than a novelist, you have to
be a god controlling your universe.
Oh, the
tall orders of authorship.
