Complexity vs Simplicity: Which One is Better?
One common misconception we often tell ourselves is attaching a negative or positive connotation to stories based on their complexity or simplicity. This is a clear form of bias because, in truth, it doesn’t matter whether a tale is complex or simple, as long as it is well-executed. If a story doesn’t call for a large cast and it ends up with one, it becomes bloated with useless plotlines, characters with relationships that serve no purpose, unnecessary scenes in places that hold no importance to the story, and the dreaded purple prose. This inflation of words leads to reader frustration and inattention. On the flip side, you can have a simple story that desperately needs more characters, more places, and more depth. You can err in either direction because neither extreme is important—only a good story is.
Neophyte! Hello, today we have gathered here to continue our discussion about writing—topics that should be answered before you even start writing, though that is not entirely true. Patience! We will answer it all by the end.
Self-study can be truly wonderful when done right. You start to see patterns in a craft that are often obfuscated behind study plans and bureaucratic complexities that plague learning institutions. Sometimes you can spot trends that are peculiar. In my journey, I have witnessed how there is no real consensus on whether complexity is either good or bad, and the same goes for simplicity.
Another thing you quickly learn is not to be hasty in reaching a conclusion. In school, we are often too eager to answer the test and be done with it without ever contemplating what we are studying, which happened to me when this topic inevitably popped up.
The truth of the matter is that both extremes exist, both extremes have a market for them, so what gives? Can either side be right? I think there are two things at play here.
For one, you have taste, of course. Some people like some things, and some people like other things; it’s just natural. There is nothing set in stone when it comes to taste, just similarities. There is also the fact that people who like one thing enjoy gathering to talk about how much they dislike the other thing. Again, it is only natural. So it is hardly a truly valid argument when seen from that perspective.
For the second, you, as a reader, find something negative when you notice it. I am cursed with knowledge, with how stories are assembled, with how each element is identified. I am hardly an expert on the matter, but I know enough to see it, whereas most people don’t, Neophyte. Most people only notice things when it bothers them, when they have an uncomfortable itch that they have to scratch, and that happens when you execute things poorly. Let me give you an example.
Have you heard of Brandon Sanderson? That fantasy author of incredible novels, incredibly long and incredibly complex novels? Yes? Well, have you tried to be like him? Yes, and if you haven’t, Neophyte, then someone else has tried, no doubt about it. When you read something incredible, you just have to write something like it, something that measures up to how good the work you just read was. Now, Mr. Sanderson is someone who has been doing this author thing for a very long time, has a team built around him, and a publishing house backing him. He can build complex things with incredible acumen because he is not only capable but also has a structure that helps him refine his work. Now, what do you got? Uh? What do I have?
I have a blog, a half-finished manuscript, a dog, my tools, my mind, my hands, and my computer with an internet connection, plus a job on top of it all. No, Neophyte, neither you nor I can match that man, and that is okay. You can only write what you can write at any point in time. Maybe you have a combination of luck and professionalism and hit, maybe not big but good enough, and you are able to do this professionally. You may be able to go back to previous works and refine them, give them new life, and that is okay too, so long as you have the original papers or the text file, then you can just pick up where you left off. Reiteration is the name of the game.
Back to the topic, complexity and simplicity are only “bad” when they are badly implemented, or worse, when they degrade as the story goes on. Take the series “Game of Thrones.” At the start, when the people behind the show still had the books to draw from, the cast was gigantic, deaths occurred, people came and went, political intrigue was abundant—it was as complex as a story can get, but people were not lost. It was clear for them; the story was so refined, and everything was seamlessly integrated. Then you arrive at the last season, and everything is on fire. Good complexity was given to bad writing that essentially destroyed beloved characters and left the plot in shambles. Good complexity on one side, who-knows-what on the other.
The same goes for simplicity. I have seen smart people scorn simple stories with the superiority of an ivory tower. I do not share their misgivings, Neophyte. Simplicity is not wrong, and it isn’t at odds with complexity; they coexist. Those people are blinded by their own fars, for they lay it on so thick through their mouths. Simplicity only becomes a problem when it just becomes a parade of clichés with no sense. Don’t mistake simple for uncomplicated because a good simple story needs to have some form of depth to avoid becoming a snorefest.
Simple vs. complex—which one is good? Neither. It all depends on a matter of taste and what you want or have to write, along with what you are capable of producing at any point in time. Never box yourself with that useless notion, Neophyte. Writing is much more than that, and you can be much more yourself.
Until next time.
