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This scenario is painfully common. The follow-up season of your favorite TV show drops on your platform, and you're brimming with anticipation. Season one ended flawlessly: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). During the hiatus, you delved into fan discussions with fellow enthusiasts to uncover hidden hints shedding light on future developments.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. In episode two, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. As the story progresses, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. And by the disappointing finale, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Pitfall of Overextension

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Look at Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology with Jeff Goldblum, which Netflix dropped over poor ratings. Yet audiences can console themselves that the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Top-notch cast members (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. Numerous awards recognition occurred, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to tell the story in necessary detail. However, a season four finale was just confirmed. I felt grateful as a viewer.

Gaten Matarazzo, Finn Wolfhard, Caleb McLaughlin and Noah Schnapp in the forthcoming fifth season of Stranger Things.

Plot twists have diluted the essence. Instead of focusing on the survivors' reintegration, and their coping with awful experiences, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. A fatiguing tendency emerged of bringing in and focusing on new characters (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) who added little to the overarching plot. It's disappointing, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

A Growing Trend

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and settled into familiar patterns. At times, programs must stop while successful.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. Looking at Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, return repeatedly with declining quality. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Supreme Instance

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, occupying our minds endlessly, mysteries intact. My top series ever followed this pattern. The classic teen series, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, lasted for only one season but achieved film-like breadth: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal “teen speak written by a 35-year-old” trope. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of never having real, definitive answers to the open-ended questions from your teenage years. Following 18 excellent installments (plus one weak one), I was heartbroken and took to writing season two fan fiction myself to answer some of those questions. Though stored on outdated technology, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Sacred Bond

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more shows can end gracefully.

• The author covers entertainment and style.