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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your beloved TV show has just begun streaming, and you're brimming with anticipation. Season one ended flawlessly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a key figure faced a shocking fate – or did they?. After the season wrapped, you scoured online forums with other hardcores to decode subtle references shedding light on future developments.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. It seems as if the creative team was swapped for algorithms. Cut to the second episode, a key performer makes a choice that you and Reddit user Fishy2345 agree is totally out of character. By episode five, 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 Curse of Too Many Seasons

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Take Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology 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.

Looking back at the horror-mystery show Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, and every episode hit the right marks. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Top-notch cast members (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. Several prize nominations followed, creators confidently planned five seasons to fully explore the narrative. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. I felt grateful as a viewer.

The Stranger Things cast returns for season five.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the story grew padded and excessive. This involved a wearying pattern of highlighting added personalities (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's disappointing, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

A Common Phenomenon

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and embraced predictable tropes. Sometimes shows need to quit when they are ahead.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, originally a limited series, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Perfect Example

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, occupying our minds endlessly, mysteries intact. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. The classic teen series, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, lasted for only one season but achieved film-like breadth: the personalities were complex and inconsistent, the cinematography was perfectly autumnal, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, but this reflects truth appropriately of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I was heartbroken and took to writing season two fan fiction myself to address unfinished business. Though stored on outdated technology, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Unique Connection

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

• The author covers entertainment and style.