How to Write a Novel: "Minimalism", "Maximalism", and My Signature "Vertical Deepening" Method

First of all, "Vertical Deepening" does not exist as a established technical term or "method" in literary theory in the way I am using it here. You might find general expressions like "character depth" or "layered narration" in some places, but not under the specific name I’ve chosen.

These two extreme poles of modern literature are actually about how we perceive the world. One carves away the excess to find the "essence," while the other embraces all the world’s complexity to convey the "truth."

Personally, instead of choosing a side, I believe you should focus on enriching the text with diverse approaches. I, for one, love to mix them up.

Anyway, let’s get into it.

1. Minimalism: Saying More with Less

Minimalism, as you all know, means "conveying a great deal with very few words." Here, the author leaves the text to the reader, transforming them from a passive observer into an active participant. The core logic: Less is more.

Minimalism works with the precision of a surgeon. It gives the reader only the tip of the iceberg, expecting them to construct the remaining massive bulk within their own mind, in that "silent room."

The Philosophy: Truth is hidden in the gaps between words. Embellishment only shadows the reality.

Short, sharp sentences. A language stripped of adjectives and adverbs. It leaves the reader with a sense of "absence," expecting them to fill that void with their own life experiences.

Representatives: Raymond Carver (considered the father of minimalism), Ernest Hemingway (Iceberg Theory), Samuel Beckett.

2. Maximalism: The Detailed Narrative

Maximalism brings all the noise, scent, and chaos of life into the text. It immerses the reader in a sea of details, trapping them within that world.

The Philosophy: The world is complex, interconnected, and encyclopedic.

To explain one thing fully, you must explain everything. Sentences that span pages, footnotes, technical details, sub-plots within sub-plots...

These create a sense of "excess" and "intoxication" in the reader. It makes you feel as if you are touching the very texture of the world with your hands.

Representatives: David Foster Wallace, Thomas Pynchon, James Joyce (Ulysses).

For writers stuck between these two, or those who want to try something different, here is the method I created and use: "Vertical Deepening."

3. Vertical Deepening

Imagine this metaphor like this:

Vertical, Not Horizontal Movement

We can use Maximalism as an example of horizontal movement. It lists everything in the room one by one: the table, the chair, the curtains, the street outside. The image expands horizontally.

Vertical Deepening

Readers are tired of just reading plot points (who did what, where did they go). This method is about focusing on a single element within your writing—focusing on one point in the room and moving inward from there. The layers unfold slowly. For example, a character holds a glass. First, the reader sees the shape of the glass. Then, the coldness of the water inside, how that coldness feels against the skin, how that sensation triggers a memory from the past, and finally, we descend into the emotions tied to that memory.

Example 1 from My Book:

“Sophie the ballerina... smiling eagerly in her white tutu.

This shouldn't have affected me. After all, it was just an ordinary photograph, right?

But old pains flooded my mind once again. Like water escaping from a tiny crack in a dam. Uncontrolled and pressurized. As I looked at the picture, the vague thoughts in my brain took the form of an image: Valeria the ballerina…

I took a deep breath. I used to wear a tutu when I was little, too. I loved it. My white socks, my knees covered in bruises—since I fell a lot in ballet class... But with that sweet smile that never left my face, I was adorable. Just like the photo of Sophie in front of me. A faint smile played on my lips. Those moments when I let go of my father's hand and shared my excitement with the other girls...

Going to ballet might have been the only thing my father and I had in common. Because I loved to dance, and he... he resented my very existence.

That’s why the moments I went to ballet were my freest and happiest.

I even remembered the day he forgot to pick me up, and I stayed with my friend’s family; I had so much fun. We played games together. I used to wish my father would forget to pick me up more often so I could stay with my friend. To have more fun. But I felt ashamed of those thoughts. Because I didn't want to leave my father alone in that big house either.

In that lonely, cold, empty house…”

What was the essence of the method?

Instead of spreading out horizontally to describe the room, focus on a single point and seep inside. In that massive scene, I focused on a "single photograph." That is where the vertical descent begins.

Let's look at the flow in my example:

• 1. Layer 1 (Visual): A smiling Sophie in a white tutu. (An ordinary object).

• 2. Layer 2 (Physical Sensation): Pain flooding the brain, the sensation of pressurized water escaping a dam.

• 3. Layer 3 (Personal Past): Valeria’s own childhood tutu and those famous "bruises" on her knees.

• 4. Layer 4 (The Deepest Essence): "My father resented my very existence." (The very bottom of the vertical descent: the Truth).

If I had written this scene as a Maximalist, I would have described the smell of the room, the dust on the frame, or the thread on Valeria's sweater. But with "Vertical Deepening," I passed through that photograph and entered the darkest room of Valeria’s soul. The moment the reader reads about the bruise on that knee, an unbreakable bond is formed with Valeria. This sentence also serves Minimalism; as I told you, I love to mix them.

With the "Vertical Deepening" method, we imprison the reader within the character's (Valeria's) most intimate wounds. It is impossible for someone who reads a sentence like "My father didn't like my existence" to simply put the book down and go to sleep. And yes, this sentence serves Minimalism perfectly. As I told you, I love to mix styles.

Through Vertical Deepening, I used an "ordinary" object to trigger a flashback. This allowed me to provide information about the character and establish dynamics with other characters without disrupting the flow or overwhelming the reader. It also begins to plant seeds in the reader's mind about what might happen between Sophie and Valeria in the future.

"White socks, bruises on the knees—since I fell a lot in ballet class..." This detail is not just an image; it is a scar opening up to the character's past. In the text, I am not just describing a single photograph; I am stepping inside that frame to descend into Valeria’s childhood traumas, her innocent excitement in that tutu, and the heavy silence of her father, who "didn't like her existence."

Furthermore, with this approach:

1-We gained insight into Valeria’s past while maintaining the story's momentum.

2-Since events are interconnected, the character dynamics clicked into place in the reader's mind. We didn't have to say, "Look, she has a bad relationship with this person," or "It seems like this, but a door has been opened for something else later." The reader simply knows—and begins to sense even more than what's on the page.

3-Instead of dumping the reasons behind Valeria’s personality all at once, we increased the reading pleasure by providing these "bite-sized" flashbacks exactly when the story needed them.

Remember: it’s not just about using these techniques individually; a perfect book is created when they are used together, in the right place, at the right time. It doesn't matter how great your plot is—what matters is how you deliver it.

Love y'all! Muah!