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It's an all-too-familiar feeling. The second series of your favorite TV show has just begun streaming, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The debut season ended flawlessly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). During the hiatus, you delved into fan discussions with other hardcores to find some Easter egg clues shedding light on future developments.

Unfortunately, the return episode disappoints. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. Cut to the second episode, your favorite cast member has done something that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. Halfway through the season, it becomes obvious the creators forgot concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. And by the disappointing finale, you long for an earlier termination.

The Downside of Prolonged Runs

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Look at Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology starring Jeff Goldblum, which Netflix dropped over poor ratings. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, 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. Skilled performers (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. Numerous awards recognition occurred, creators confidently planned five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

The Stranger Things cast returns for season five.

Story decisions have weakened the core. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the story grew padded and excessive. A fatiguing tendency emerged of highlighting added personalities (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It’s frustrating, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

An Increasing Pattern

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and fallen headfirst into expected or comfortable cliches. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Ideal Model

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, residing permanently in our thoughts, mysteries intact. My top series ever followed this pattern. The classic teen series, the quintessential youth program, lasted for only one season but was cinematic in its scope: the personalities were complex and inconsistent, 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. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I felt devastated and created my own continuation to answer some of those questions. Though stored on outdated technology, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Sacred Bond

If writers recall the sacred audience-series connection, more shows can end gracefully.

• The author focuses on cultural topics.