Minimalism vs. Maximalism: Prose Before Flows?

Should you write with surgical proficiency or stitch together your tale with swathes of commas? If you’ve spent more than 5 minutes considering yourself a writer, chances are you’ve explored authors spanning the spectrum between bingeful minimalism and expressive maximalism. Some books cater to those who are seeking to cut through the noise of everyday tedium and others to those who crave immersion. How do you establish your footing on this sensitive scale when the balance you strike can decide whether readers are won over or worn out? Let’s take a stroll to both ends of the prose spectrum to try to find your comfortable narrative zone.

The Minimalist

“Why waste time say lot word when few word do trick?” - Kevin Malone, The Office

While minimalism can seem like the easier option, it thrives on restraint. It requires the author to forgo indulgence to leave space for interpretation. Masters of this art include Cormac McCarthy and Chuck Palahniuk. The purpose is to craft clean, unadorned sentences that carry emotion in what’s not said as much as what is. It’s allowing the flavor of a plate to carry itself without the garnish. In this era, this style of prose specifically resonates with readers who are constantly being barraged by breakneck media. Many of us are conditioned to absorb this kind of writing nowadays. Minimalist writing works best in character-driven stories where implications can be interpreted by the reader and where the setting may not carry the spectacle of epic world building.

The Maximalist

“You must eradicate from your essence childish folly.” - Seth Milchick, Severance

The thesaurus is the maximalist’s bible, and its twelve disciples are the dozen volumes used to make up the MC’s backstory. Every sentence in maximalist fiction is a procession of adjectives, metaphors, and digressions, which is not something I’m particularly fond as it distracts from the story, but I digr—never mind. Maximalist writing is ideal for epic fantasy and science fiction as it allows the author to create sprawling, complex environments, but it’s important not to let the story collapse under the enormous weight of exposition. The best use of maximalism, particularly in science fiction, I’ve encountered is Christopher Ruocchio’s The Sun Eater series.

Which Mindset is Right For Me?

As with all questions about writing: It depends. It depends on you, and it depends on your audience. If you are writing for yourself, there is no wrong answer. You can give yourself up to rich texture and witty tangents or, adversely, get to the meat and potatoes of your story and leave the rest to interpretation. But if you’re catering to an audience, you must carefully consider what it is they want to read. There is space for both writing styles in all genres; it’s the tone of your novel that can affect the outcome. If you want to write something contemplative or emotionally raw, minimalism will give your readers room to feel rather than be told. If you want your work to express its own energy and voice, maximalism will allow your reader to lose themselves in the rhythm of your prose.

Both minimalism and maximalism offer their own forms of beauty and challenge. Minimalism is the art of omission, trusting the reader to fill in the blanks. Maximalism is the art of indulgence, absorbing detail and depth. Ultimately, you don’t have to pledge allegiance to one camp. In my series, Bleeding Iris, you will see that I lean more toward maximalism, as I enjoy providing ornate descriptions and reveling in poetic verse, but I am not fully committed to that side of the spectrum. The key isn’t choosing a side, it’s telling a story in the most effective way possible.