Beyond Nornö: Adventures in Writing a Sequel

My new novel—coming this Fall!

I couldn’t wait to unveil the cover of my new novel, Nornöns Eko! I love everything about it—the image of a young woman leisurely floating on her back, the title, the font… A book cover conveys so much, and I wanted this one to catch your attention and signal that my story was moving in a new direction.

However, when Sommaren på Nornö was published, I never imagined I would write a sequel. Nornöns Eko can most definitely be read as a standalone novel, but I rely on the main characters from the first book to drive this new storyline forward. Still, while I had the creative freedom to explore new territory, the endeavor presented me with some technical and literary challenges.

One of the first difficulties I encountered was realizing that I was unintentionally boxed in by details I had introduced in the first novel—details that I now had to honor. Zoë Holmgren’s father, JG Latour, for example, lived in Miami, meaning much of the sequel needed to unfold there. This geographic shift necessitated a crash course in Miami neighborhoods, landmarks, and restaurants, along with a research trip to capture the city’s vibe firsthand. But as I got to know Miami better, it was almost as though I could see Zoë walking its streets and taking in the rhythm of life around her.

JG also had two Haitian parents and three sisters (with seven children between them). What began as passing references now required me to develop an entire extended family, ensuring each character had a distinct identity. But the deeper I dove into their personalities, the less daunting it became. In fact, their existence heightened the drama, creating space for cultural clashes and complicated family dynamics.

Another limitation I hadn’t anticipated was the timeline. Sommaren på Nornö was intentionally set in 2019 to avoid including the pandemic. However, the sequel unfolds two years later, meaning I had to acknowledge real-world events and pick up the narrative after that period. At first, this felt like a restriction, but in hindsight, the pandemic created a natural pause—an opportunity to explore how my characters had changed during those lost years. Their experiences reflected a shared ordeal, so the fear, isolation, and uncertainty would resonate with readers.

I also learned to stretch my imagination in unexpected ways. Rather than play it safe with beloved characters, I challenged myself to present them from a different angle. I love reading about flawed and messy characters, yet I sometimes instinctively want to make mine likable. This time, I leaned into their questionable traits and uncomfortable choices because that’s reality. It was both liberating and necessary to let my characters make mistakes, struggle, and evolve in ways that felt authentic.

Writing a sequel also forced me to think about balance—between consistency and growth, the familiar and the unexpected. Readers return for established characters and enduring themes, but a sequel must introduce new issues and obstacles. It should build upon what came before without simply repeating it. At the same time, I had to consider whether the book should stand alone or lean heavily on its predecessor. I wanted new readers to enjoy Nornöns Eko without feeling lost, but I also wanted to reward returning readers with more intricate layers of the story.

Finding the right amount of exposition was one of the trickiest parts. Too much, and the narrative slows down with unnecessary backstory; too little, and new readers might struggle to understand the stakes. I had to weave past events into the story organically—through dialogue, flashbacks, and subtle references—rather than relying on long stretches of explanation. Through multiple revisions, I aimed to create an environment where both returning and first-time readers could immerse themselves fully in the world of the novel.

Perhaps the biggest lesson was understanding the raison d’être of this sequel. It had to propel the story in a meaningful way, not just exist for the sake of continuation. Many readers assumed the suggestive ending of Sommaren på Nornö hinted at a sequel. I thought I was being artsy with my vagueness—haha—but their feedback inspired me to be bolder, unleashing a wave of new ideas. The stakes had to be bigger, more personal, and timely. Nevertheless, I needed to respect reader expectations—some crave more of what they liked, while others want to be surprised—and maintain the emotional core of the narrative. I think finding that sweet spot is the essence of writing a sequel.

Though some days were more difficult than others, I embraced the process, knowing it was essential for my growth as a writer. I learned to shape plot points with greater intention, think more expansively, and trust my instincts. What once felt impossible became all-consuming. More than anything, I fell in love with my characters all over again. They felt like old friends, and I became deeply invested in their lives and possibilities. So, readers, I hope you will be too!