The Complexities of Writing Literary Novels
- Cully Perlman
- Sep 25
- 5 min read

This post is about exploring the art, challenges, and rewards of crafting lasting literature.*
Introduction
For aspiring and seasoned writers alike, the literary novel stands as both an aspiration and a daunting challenge. Unlike commercial fiction, which often prioritizes plot and accessibility, the literary novel is committed to artistry, depth, and the exploration of the human condition. It's a genre where language matters, where characters are not merely vehicles for story, but vessels for meaning. The process of writing such a novel is complex, demanding not only technical mastery but also emotional resilience and philosophical insight. In this blog post, we’ll delve into the intricacies of crafting literary novels—from the demands of structure and style to the unique hurdles of voice, theme, and audience. This post is about the complexities of writing literary novels.
The Elusive Definition of “Literary” and The Complexities of Writing Literary Novels
Before unpacking the complexities, it’s important to address the slippery nature of the term “literary novel.” Unlike genres defined by setting or subject (think science fiction, romance, or mystery), literary fiction is often characterized by its style, depth, and intent. Literary novels are expected to offer more than entertainment; they aim to provoke thought, evoke emotion, and linger in the reader’s consciousness. They value ambiguity, nuance, and beauty in language. This lack of clear boundaries makes the job of the literary novelist harder—there’s no formula to follow, only an abstract ideal to pursue.
The Primacy of Language
Perhaps the most immediate complexity is language itself. Literary novels are judged not only by what they say, but by how they say it. Sentences must be meticulously crafted, dialogue must ring true, and descriptions must do more than set scenes; they must illuminate character and theme. The writer’s relationship with words is at once intimate and fraught. Every revision invites second-guessing: Is this metaphor too obscure? Is this sentence too ornate? Literary writers often spend hours on a single paragraph, balancing clarity with lyricism. This devotion to craft is rewarding but exhausting and can slow the writing process to a crawl.
Depth of Characterization
In literary fiction, plot often takes a back seat to character. The focus is on the interior lives of protagonists—their fears, desires, contradictions, and growth. Creating nuanced, believable characters is a complex endeavor. It requires empathy, psychological insight, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. Literary novelists must avoid stereotypes and stock figures, instead drawing on memory, observation, and imagination to breathe life into their creations. This often means exploring flawed, difficult, or ambiguous personalities, and inviting readers to see themselves reflected in the messiness of the human experience.
Structure and Experimentation
While commercial novels generally rely on well-established story structures, literary fiction often experiments with form. Nonlinear narratives, shifting perspectives, fragmented timelines, and unreliable narrators are common. These choices allow writers to mirror the complexities of thought and memory, but they also risk alienating readers who expect a straightforward plot. Finding the right structure for a literary novel is a delicate balancing act: too much experimentation, and the story becomes impenetrable; too little, and it loses its literary edge. The writer must trust their instincts, while remaining open to revision and critique.
Theme and Meaning
Unlike genre fiction, which often prioritizes external conflict, literary novels are expected to grapple with “big ideas.” Themes such as love, loss, identity, morality, and mortality are explored not just as plot points, but as philosophical questions. The challenge is to embed meaning organically, without resorting to heavy-handed messaging or didacticism. Writers must resist the urge to explain, instead trusting their images, scenes, and dialogue to evoke larger truths. This is an act of faith in the reader’s intelligence and sensitivity—a leap into ambiguity and subtlety that not all writers are comfortable making.
The writer’s legacy is not measured in sales figures, but in the hearts and minds of readers who are changed by the work.
Voice and Authenticity
Every literary novel requires a distinctive voice—a point of view that shapes the reader’s experience and perception. Developing a voice that is both authentic and compelling is one of the hardest tasks a writer faces. It involves more than choosing first or third person, past or present tense; it’s about capturing a worldview, an emotional timbre, a cadence that feels true. Writers often struggle to find their voice, vacillating between imitation and originality. The pressure to be “literary” can lead to overwriting or pretentiousness. Authenticity comes from risk-taking and self-awareness, from digging beneath the surface and allowing vulnerability to shine through.
Audience and Reception
Who is the literary novel for? This is a question that haunts many writers. Compared to genre fiction, literary novels have a smaller, more selective audience. Publishers, critics, and readers expect sophistication, but sophistication can mean inaccessibility. Writers must decide whether to prioritize artistic integrity or commercial viability, often compromising on both. Rejection rates for literary manuscripts are notoriously high, and even published works may struggle to find readers. Yet, for those who connect—who see themselves or their world reflected in the pages—the impact can be profound. This tension between exclusivity and universality is part of what makes literary writing so complex and compelling.
The Emotional Toll
Writing a literary novel is a marathon, not a sprint. The process is often slow, solitary, and marked by self-doubt. Writers contend with perfectionism, fear of failure, and the nagging suspicion that their work will go unappreciated. There are periods of creative euphoria, when the words flow effortlessly, and periods of despair, when the story feels hopelessly tangled. Completing a draft is only the beginning; multiple rounds of revision, workshopping, and editing follow. Literary novelists must possess not only technical skill, but emotional stamina—the ability to persist in the face of uncertainty, ambiguity, and rejection.
Rewards and Legacy
In spite of these challenges, the rewards of writing literary novels are immense. At its best, literary fiction has the power to transform, to inspire empathy, and to expand our understanding of what it means to be human. The writer’s legacy is not measured in sales figures, but in the hearts and minds of readers who are changed by the work. Literary novels endure, shaping culture and conversation for generations. For many writers, this promise is enough—a reason to keep laboring over sentences, characters, and themes, even when the outcome is uncertain.
Conclusion
The complexities of writing literary novels are many and varied. From mastering language and structure to wrestling with theme, voice, and audience, the process demands everything a writer has to give. Yet, for those who accept the challenge, the journey is its own reward—a chance to create art that endures, that matters, and that speaks to the deepest questions of existence. In an age of distraction and instant gratification, the literary novel is a testament to patience, persistence, and the enduring power of story.
*This blog post was created using Microsoft's AI Copilot. Yes, I've revised the article. No, I'm not a big fan of AI, but it was hard to find fault with this post. I never (and will never) use AI for my fiction.

Cully Perlman is an author, blogger, and substantive editor. He can be reached at Cully@novelmasterclass.com



This post clarified one thing for me - that literary novels (and stories) are meant to be ambiguous. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I'm just not smart enough to understand them. I think one important thing is that a lot of writing advice is given as if everybody is writing lit fic. I think this makes writing look and feel inaccessible for people who have ideas that are not lit fic, but could still be really good. A lot of the pulp authors are looked back on now as being masters, even though they churned stuff out every week. This may be worth a blog.