Every now and then a swirl of talk about minimalism settle into the ether around me. It is one of those ideas that recurs every few years as a new book or guru arrives on the scene.
For a lot of people who embrace minimalism in their lives, it is a freeing experience and I see the appeal. What always strikes me though is that those who achieve minimalism in their lives obviously have very different interests to me.
I have five active hobbies and each of those require both storage and a certain amount of paraphernalia. For me all that ‘stuff’ I own is a part of the texture of my life and in that way, I think life resembles writing (you knew I’d get to writing eventually right?).
Sparse, unadorned prose can be wonderful but sometimes a bit of description and embroidery can be a wonderful thing. Conversely writing which resembles over-stuffed cupboards can be exhausting through sheer volume of information not directly related to plot.
I think though, that just as my hobbies mean true minimalism would never work in my life, different readers require different amounts of description to enjoy what they read. For some it’s overstuffed cupboards and for some it’s a heath or desert!