Writers in the Storm

by Laurie Schnebly Campbell

Say you’ve just written the best book ever. You love it, your readers love it, your publisher loves it, and all is well in Authorland.

Should you turn that book into a series?

Or say you’ve just written a book that feels pretty good. You’re pleased with it, your readers like it, and your publisher wants you to write something similar.

Should you consider doing a series?

At first glance, that might seem like a terrible idea. If writing the first book wasn’t an absolute piece of cake, why on earth would you want to write two more? Or (gasp) five more? Or (clutch your chest and stagger) an open-ended series that lasts for 10, 25, or even 50 books?

Well, there are people who do it and love it. Which is lucky for readers who love series ... and there are a LOT of ‘em!

THE BEST OF SERIES

After all, we each have our favorite series. More likely, we each have our favorite six or eight series—some of which may be relatively obscure and others which are followed by millions of readers. While the less celebrated series can still be great, those ranked as favorites tend to become bestsellers simply from word-of-mouth.

Because, really, who HASN’T heard of the Wimpy Kid? Inspector Gamache? Katniss Everdeen? Eve Dallas and Roarke? Whether or not you’ve read their series, you very likely know something about ‘em ... whether it’s just “yeah, I’ve seen those books” or “the next title is due out in __ weeks.” 

What makes these series so popular?

There aren’t QUITE as many opinions as there are readers, but most fans agree on at least some of what they especially like. The characters. The plots. The setting. The suspense. The humor. The drama. The voice.

Yet those are the same things readers love about stand-alone books, as well. So why do the series books tend to rank higher on the bestseller lists? 

It’s because there’s strength in numbers. If a reader can choose one fabulous stand-alone title or one fabulous series of books, they’re more likely to choose what offers them more hours of enjoyment. Same as choosing an exquisite piece of sushi or an exquisite five-course dinner: when the quality is good either way, people tend to go for quantity.

But does that mean you should write a series?

Well, there are some advantages. And some disadvantages. Which of them speaks more loudly to you?

WHY TO WRITE A SERIES 

If you have a story that’s just too big to contain in a single book, a series gives you the freedom to provide all the fascinating details and plot twists and character development that you’d have to leave out if the story needed to be confined into a shorter space.

We already know, readers love series. They’ll happily grab Book Three or Book Twelve as soon as it comes out, whereas—before buying a stand-alone—they might need a bit more persuasion that this IS a book they’ll enjoy. Once they’ve committed to a series, they’re likely to stay on board.

Setting and character development are easier when your series features the same characters in the same place. Sure, it’s the same amount of work up front, establishing who & when & where these people are, but once you’ve figured that out you don’t need to repeat the same amount of work for subsequent titles.

WHY TO AVOID A SERIES 

It may take more time than you have (or want) to invest. If your schedule doesn’t allow much writing, you might rather use what few hours you DO have to create a book that can stand alone and be enjoyed as is—without needing additional books to support the overall story arc.

If you love the adventure of creating new people and new worlds and new situations with every book, you might feel too constrained by a series. Why commit to something that’ll leave you bored and frustrated while readers are demanding more of the same?

Readers have higher expectations of a series. If the shop sign has changed color or the character’s motivation seems to have shifted between Book Two and Book Three, they’ll complain about it. They want things to stay the same, but they don’t want TOO much repetition ... which is a tricky balance.

So, weighing the pros and cons, suppose you’re thinking about a series. That leads us right into:

WHAT TO CONSIDER

Before embarking on a series, there are several issues to address besides the fundamental one of “do I really want to do this?” Those include:

• Type—What kind of series will this be? Is it suited for the genre you enjoy writing?

• Arc—Along with the individual story arc for each book, what will your series arc be?

• Character/s—If there’s a main character, will this person be static or dynamic? How about the secondaries?

• Exposition—How will you keep long-term readers engaged without confusing the newcomers?

• Time—How much time can you commit?

• Style—Will this be first- or third-person? What will the books have in common? What will make each story different?

• Evolution—How long should this series last? How can you keep it fresh for you AND your readers?

Those are just a few of the things to consider, and they lead into our:

PRIZE-DRAWING QUESTION

What can make you decide you Do or you Don’t want to write (or read) a series?

Someone who answers will win free registration to Writing A Series, my May 4-15 email class on that very thing. On Thursday evening I’ll have random-org draw a name and post it at the end of the comments, so check back soon because class will start on Monday!

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About Laurie

After winning Romantic Times’ “Best Special Edition of the Year” over Nora Roberts, Laurie Schnebly Campbell discovered she loved teaching every bit as much as writing ... if not more. Since then, she’s taught in-person and online workshops including the upcoming Writing A Series, and keeps a special section of her bookshelves for people who’ve developed that particular novel in her classes. With 60+ titles there so far, she’s always hoping for more.

Top Image by Bronisław Dróżka from Pixabay

by Susan Watts

Every writer eventually reaches a moment in the middle of a manuscript when the plot seems to work, but something still feels incomplete. The obstacles are escalating. The stakes are rising. The structure follows the familiar pattern of the Hero’s Journey,

And yet the story lacks the emotional gravity that makes readers lean forward in their chairs. Often the missing element is not another plot twist. It is another journey.

Beneath the visible adventure, a quieter transformation is waiting to unfold. The character is not only confronting the world outside them. They are also confronting the truth within themselves. This second path is commonly called the Heroine’s Journey and understanding how it works alongside the Hero’s Journey can deepen the emotional power of almost any story.

Understanding the Difference Between the Hero’s Journey and the Heroine’s Journey

The Hero’s Journey focuses on outward movement. A character begins in familiar circumstances until something disrupts the ordinary pattern of life. A call to adventure appears, allies gather, and the path grows more dangerous as the hero approaches the central confrontation. Most of us recognize this structure because we’ve lived it. At some point in life, we are all asked to step beyond our comfort zone and face uncertainty.

Stories built on this framework emphasize visible change. Star Wars: A New Hope and The Hobbit are both classic hero’s journeys. The hero confronts obstacles, learns new skills, and ultimately faces the antagonist who represents the central threat. When the journey concludes, the hero’s actions have altered the world in some meaningful way.

The Heroine’s Journey moves in a different direction.

Instead of defeating an enemy, it explores what happens when a character must reconnect something that was lost, hidden, or silenced. Many characters must overcome a lie they believe about themselves. These lies are usually formed earlier in the character’s life to help them survive something.

Common examples include:

• Worth—I’m not enough
• Strength—I must handle everything alone
• Identity—I’m not a leader
• Responsibility—Everything is my fault
• Emotions—Strong people don’t feel this way
• Belonging—I’m the outsider
• Power—I’m dangerous if I use my strength
• Control—If I try harder, I can prevent loss
• Relationships—people always leave

Transformation unfolds through introspection and reconciliation. Strength alone is not enough. The character must also rediscover empathy, vulnerability, or truth.

One journey tests courage.

The other asks for understanding.

Two Journeys, One Story

The stories we remember rarely choose between these journeys. Instead, they allow both journeys to unfold together.

Consider Harry Potter’s long struggle with Voldemort. On the surface, the narrative follows a classic heroic path filled with trials, allies, and escalating danger. Harry trains, confronts enemies, and eventually faces the dark wizard who threatens the wizarding world. Yet the deeper conflict is internal.

Harry fears becoming like the enemy he is trying to defeat. He repeatedly faces the question beneath the conflict: Who am I, really? When the ultimate confrontation arrives, the victory matters not only because Voldemort falls but because Harry chooses compassion and sacrifice instead of power.

The external battle saves the world. The internal journey reveals who Harry truly is.

Why Writers Benefit from Understanding Both Journeys

Once you recognize these two directions of transformation, story problems start revealing their actual source. Sometimes the plot feels stuck because the character hasn’t faced the external obstacle yet. Other times the plot feels stuck because the character hasn’t faced themselves.

External conflict gives a story momentum. Internal integration gives it meaning. Readers feel the difference immediately, though they may not name it that way. But they recognize when a story reaches both layers of change.

When shaping a story, it can help to explore the following questions:

• What external challenge forces the character to leave the ordinary world and confront danger?
• What internal truth must the character face before that external conflict can truly be resolved?
• How do those two journeys intersect as the story approaches its climax?

These questions remind us that the visible quest and the internal reckoning are often inseparable. Each obstacle on the outer path reveals something about the character’s inner self.

When the Writer is on the Journey Too

There is another reason these story paths matter so much to writers. We rarely stand outside the journey while we create it. Most of the time we walk it ourselves.

The Hero’s Journey appears in the discipline of finishing pages, solving plot problems, and pushing through difficult chapters. The Heroine’s Journey often appears more quietly, in the moments when we rediscover our voice after doubt or remember why the story mattered to us in the first place.

When writers recognize both journeys in their own creative lives, the process becomes less frustrating.

The Story Beneath the Story

The Hero’s Journey shows us how characters confront the world. The Heroine’s Journey shows us how they come to understand themselves. Together, they reveal the deeper nature of transformation.

When both journeys appear in a story, readers experience more than adventure. They witness the moment when action and identity finally meet. For instance, a character learns that the goal is not to eliminate those conditions but to navigate them. The belief that guides them represents imagination itself. It does not fly in a straight line, and it does not promise clear skies. What it offers instead is perspective.

The Hero’s Journey resembles climbing the mountain that blocks your path. The Heroine’s Journey resembles listening to the dragon that understands the sky better than you do. And the stories we remember most are the ones where both dragons appear.

One waiting in the world outside the hero.

The other waiting quietly within.

A Question for You

When you think about the story you’re writing now, which journey is shaping your protagonist more strongly—the outer quest of the Hero’s Journey, or the inner transformation of the Heroine’s Journey?

Or perhaps the more interesting question is this:

What dragon is your character truly learning to face?

About Susan

Under the pen name Michelle Allums, Susan Watts has authored a young adult urban fantasy titled, The Jade Amulet and is currently writing the sequel. Her short stories are also included in the anthologies Christmas Roses and Forever and Always.

Susan has dedicated over four decades to training in multiple martial arts styles and holds the impressive title of a five-time US Karate Alliance world black belt fighting grand champion. Through her karate school, she is able to impart martial arts and life skills. Susan also incorporates her martial arts knowledge into her writing.

An avid triathlete, she keeps in shape by running, biking, and swimming. She lives in the country with her husband, where they raise animals and enjoy being outdoors. Susan also has three grown children and numerous grandchildren. In addition, she is a CPA and VP of finance for a company in her hometown. 

You can connect with Susan on social media or her website.

Top Image by Jose Antonio Alba from Pixabay

by Kelli Short Borges

One night several years ago, I went to bed ruminating over a lengthy personal essay I’d written about the sad dissolution of my first marriage. Writing it hadn’t been easy, but it was cathartic and sharing it with others had been undeniably rewarding. Even so, I couldn’t stop thinking about the essay, couldn’t stop thinking about the traumatic end of my marriage.

As I lay trying to fall asleep, certain stubborn images and vivid sensory details persisted— the red neon flash of a Wendy’s sign, salty French fries, freckles spattered across a cheek, the thump of a Phil Collins song from a car stereo. A diamond ring, long gone.

I was annoyed, to be honest. I desperately wanted to move forward, to leave that terrible chapter behind. I’d written something emotionally wrenching, published it, shared with others, but it still felt as if I hadn’t been able to express how it truly felt to go through such an awful divorce.

Why couldn’t I let it go?

Finally, I managed to doze off, only to find myself wide awake again at two a.m., with an insistent, fast-paced rhythmic narrative running through my brain.

What was happening?

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table, quickly jotting down what seemed to be coming from nowhere—a strange mash-up of images from the essay mixed with fresh new language and a different pace.

I’d written quickly and furiously, exactly the way my brain heard it, so formal punctuation was missing, but somehow that seemed right. My subconscious had apparently been working overtime! And the entire thing was short. Very short. Wide awake now, I transferred it to my computer. It was just over a single page, double spaced.  

What is this? I wondered.

Now, I know that I’d written my first micro. And what’s even more interesting? What I wrote, without realizing it, is a form called a “breathless sentence,” a single-paragraph, one-sentence story told with urgency. Telling my story without rules, exactly the way I “heard” it, and without overthinking, gave me a sense of emotional release that I hadn’t experienced writing the essay. Yes, this is exactly how it felt, I thought. This is exactly how it feels. I cried.

From that point on, I was hooked on experimenting with shorter forms, and I began intensely studying micro prose (aka micro narratives, micro memoirs, micro essays, micro stories or microfiction).

What, Exactly, is Micro?

A subgenre of flash, a micro is generally considered to be a piece of 400 words or less. It doesn’t matter if the story is fiction or nonfiction, the same story-telling principles apply. Micros rely on extreme brevity and often a single, intense moment, while telling an expansive, larger story. The magic of the story lies in what’s left out, what’s left to interpret. This is called “white space.”

Take, for example, this now famous six-word story, commonly attributed to Hemmingway:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn. 

Or, a modern example, Bob Thurber’s 50-word story, “Shortcut on Christmas Eve,”

The lake was frozen solid but shadows made the surface look dark and wet. My father, drunk on eggnog, measured his strides. While I waited for the slip and fall that would crack his skull, it occurred to me any passersby might believe they’d witnessed a man walking on water.

Zoom in on the ending lines of the stories above.

• Is there a moment in which you are invited to fill in the gaps?
• A moment in which something changes, in which you breathe in a larger truth? 

The emotional weight of the story hinges on the white space—what’s read between the lines.

Why Experiment with Writing Micro?

A few reasons you might want to try your hand at writing tiny:

• It’s fun to experiment and try something new! You’ll stretch your literary legs by pushing yourself outside your comfort zone.

• You’ll become a (much) better self-editor. When you need to whittle a piece down to its essence, you’re required to be brutally precise with word choice, keeping only what’s absolutely necessary.

• You can submit and get published as you go. With some practice, micros can be written relatively quickly and submitted as you work on a larger, lengthier literary project. And you’ll get the satisfaction and encouragement of having your work celebrated along the way, a great dopamine hit. A personal example of this: I took a chapter from my novel-in-progress and shrank it down to its marrow—a 350-word micro, which was subsequently published.

• The flash and micro writing community is welcoming and supportive. There are tons of amazing workshops, mentors and fellow writers who are ready to cheer you on as you learn!

I’m ready to learn to write micro! How do I start?

You develop micro writing skills by learning the elements of what makes micro so effective—which means lots of practice reading and writing it. And joining workshops with other micro writers is always a smart move, as you’ll get feedback and support as you go.

Resources to help you get started (there are oodles of these, but here are a few that have inspired me):

Reading:

Best Microfiction Anthologies:https://www.bestmicrofiction.com/

100-word story: https://100wordstory.org/

River Teeth’s Beautiful Things: https://riverteethjournal.com/beautiful-things/

Writing Workshops and Substacks:

The Flash Institute:https://flashfictioninstitute.com/

Bending Genres:https://bendinggenres.com/writing-groups/

Kathy Fish/Substack: https://artofflashfiction.substack.com/

Meg Pokrass/Substack:https://megpokrass.substack.com/

Francine Witte Writing Groups:https://francinewitte.com/blank-4/

Have you ever written flash or microfiction? What was your experience like? Do you have a favorite flash fiction author?

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About Kelli

Kelli Short Borges is a Phoenix-based writer who traded her career as a reading specialist for the thrill of crafting her own narratives. A multi-award-winning flash and microfiction author, her work has been featured in several Best Microfiction anthologies and nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best Small Fictions anthologies. You can find more about Kelli and her work at https://www.kellishortborges.com.

Top Image by StartupStockPhotos from Pixabay