There is something so engaging about a blank word document. It invites and promises not to judge. Before anything is established and the rules are set, the unspoiled page is the ultimate symbol of possibility. Blank of drivel or filler, free of a meandering narrative that doesn’t know where it’s going, just moving along for the sake of movement itself. True, there is no genius on the page either—but the potential for genius has never been closer to grasp…

But this is not true when that blank page is the first page of a sequel. The blankness is an illusion, and all the baggage, rules, character struggles, and failures of the previous effort are there in the margins waiting to be dealt with. Writing sequels is hard, but hard writing is good writing, or at least that’s what I tell myself in this current state of my writing life. I am halfway through Book 2: The Five Claws, of The Tipping Point Prophecy series, and it is by far the hardest book I have yet tackled.

To date, I have written three and a half novels. The first was an almost 900 page epic fantasy novel that I wrote in a vacuum and thought was a work of seminal genius, only to later discover that it was, in fact, a rambling mess that couldn’t find a champion and now waits to be revived in a dark box… Learned a lot, picked myself up, try again. The second book was The Elementalists, which managed to fight its way to the light of day with the help of agents and publishers alike, and continues to battle its way out of obscurity to earn an audience. The third was a fast and mean dark-fantasy exercise that was a joy to write and will hopefully soon be a joy to read. Then there’s the fourth book…

Having a story to share and enough words to tell it has never been my problem. I have always thought in epic terms—multiple characters, high-stakes, changing perspectives and world building, blending of reality, myth, science, and magic. I seem to write big books in big stories that will take multiple titles to tell. Even that first 900 pager was just book one of a trilogy. But now, with Tipping Point Book 2: The Five Claws, I am finally putting my fingers to the test and expanding a world into fertile series territory.

Inspiration cannot be waited on and in my experience should rarely be trusted when it finally shows. The only way forward is “ass in chair,” though I’m not sure who I’m quoting with that one. I’ve written the first half of this book twice so far—once to get all the characters, events and radical shifts of the world onto the page, and a second time to make sense of all the moving pieces. Now I get to go ahead and write the second half of the book, and I’m thrilled at the look and feel of the blank page once more. But I already know that I’ll have to go back again to make those first 170 pages of material not just make sense, but sing at the same time. It’s been like pulling teeth and I still have a few teeth left to yank.

Certain chapters of that hefty chunk of book have been torturous to get through, (I’m glowering at you 10a, 11b and pretty much all of 12) but I bet that when this whole thing is done later this year, and I begin to share it with my beta readers, that those sections will stand out as some of the best I’ve written. Not because it came easy, or flowed the way some passages seem to as if I’m taking dictation from a cockier version of myself that rarely sticks around for long, but precisely because it sucked to get down on the page. All the hair wringing, hand biting, and pensive stares out the window forcing me to do better, write truer, and fight against the page to earn whatever audience these words will be lucky to one day receive.

The white of the page is meaningless, it’s finding the rhythm in all those little black letters that has the potential to make someone other than myself care. Most sequels are less good than the book that came before, and a lot of first books don’t deserve the sequels they’re given. I’d even say this is true for some of the best selling titles out there—those lucky few whose first book goes big because the fates aligned in your favor.

I’m not one of them, though I wanted to be, as we all do. Instead, this series will benefit from my ongoing battle for every reader I get. I will try my best, and I promise that this story will only get bigger, better, and bolder as it goes.

I promise to not talk down to you—you’re too smart for that. I won’t flinch away or gloss over the hard topics or challenging moments. Teens, adults, ancient dragons—all real characters with struggles and nuance. The world didn’t end fifty years ago with a new dystopian hierarchy conveniently reconstructed in its ashes—it’s ending now, around us, every day, and we are the only ones who can do anything about it.

I’ve gone over the tipping point, and before I hit the bottom of whatever is on the other side, I’m going to earn your eyeballs and drag you over with me. It should, at the very least, be a good ride down.

The Elementalists