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This scenario is painfully common. The follow-up season of your beloved TV show drops on your platform, and you're brimming with anticipation. The initial run ended flawlessly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a key figure faced a shocking fate – or did they?. In the months since the finale, you delved into fan discussions with dedicated fans to decode subtle references pointing toward upcoming twists.

Unfortunately, the return episode disappoints. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. By the next installment, your favorite cast member has done something that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. By episode five, the writers appear to have memory loss around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. And by the disappointing finale, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.

The Downside of Overextension

Wishing for cancellation can only be retrospective; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Consider Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody with Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. Yet audiences can console themselves that their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, with ten flawless installments. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Excellent actors (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. There were multiple award nominations, and the showrunners proudly announced there would be five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. However, a season four finale was just confirmed. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

Story decisions have weakened the core. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their coping with awful experiences, the story grew padded and excessive. A fatiguing tendency emerged of bringing in and focusing on new characters (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It's aggravating, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

A Growing Trend

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and embraced predictable tropes. 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, producers recognize appropriate conclusion points. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, return repeatedly with declining quality. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Perfect Example

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, living rent-free in our imaginations, mysteries intact. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. This beloved 90s drama, the quintessential youth program, concluded after a single run but achieved film-like breadth: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. The ending left questions unanswered, yet this mirrors real life accurately of youth queries staying forever open. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I felt devastated and created my own continuation to resolve lingering mysteries. It might only live on an old hard drive, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Special Relationship

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

• This writer writes about the arts, music and fashion.