Sometimes it can be fun to play around with different genres, if for nothing more than to flex your writing muscles and try something new. Absurdist fiction can be particularly fun—although to be honest, fun might be the wrong word. Thought provoking? Enlightening? Existentially terrifying?

Regardless, below is a bit of an absurdist fiction primer to help you decide whether it’s something you might want to try as a writing exercise or even to inspire your next novel.

What is absurdist fiction?
Absurdist fiction refers to a genre in which the main characters find themselves in situations or in the presence of other people who foster the idea of meaninglessness—whether that comes in the form of a specific event, conversations with certain characters, or the witnessing of a particular action.

This lack of life purpose will pervade most aspects of the novel to turn everything on its head, usually via dark humor, satire, or the playful scrambling of reason itself. Particularly popular in the 1950s and 1960s, absurdist fiction toys with the philosophy of humanity being and representing nothing at all—a close cousin to the existentialism movement that also emerged post-WWII.

What are some features of absurdist fiction?
The main feature is the lack of a conventional plot structure—in other words, the usual opening, rising action, climax, falling action, and conclusion that are so commonly used across other genres. And while absurdist fiction is always funny in some way, it is not traditionally considered a comedy genre. Instead, the lens remains focused on the characters’ behavior while being confronted with seemingly pointless (and yes, absurd) situations—situations that don’t necessarily have to even be realistic.

Absurdist authors also take care not to let any moral judgment about their characters seep into their narrative, instead leaving actions to speak for themselves and allowing readers to debate the merits or fallacies of their protagonists’ decisions. In fact, morals of any kind are often left up in the air, with the onus being put on the readers to decide what enduring lessons can be taken from the story.

Why write absurdist fiction?
So what kinds of writers would be naturally drawn to such a peripheral genre? Aside from dabbling in it as a fun (and very different!) type of writing exercise, you may want to consider it if you’re the kind of person who enjoys examining the human condition from various angles—especially that of existentialism, of which Albert Camus’s 1942 novella The Stranger is perhaps the most famous example.

These are the types of novels that really encourage introspection and tend to stick with audiences long after the last page is finished. Additionally, absurdist fiction can be a great choice for any writer who is simply in the mood to break away from more traditional narrative structures.

What are some techniques for writing absurdist fiction?
To get started, you might want to try practicing with nonlinear storytelling to make the events of your novel clear but also subverts readers’ expectations. Dark humor and satire are also extremely important elements in absurdist fiction, acting as a way to address the ideas of pointlessness and nothingness in a way that is both amusing and thought provoking.

This is also the time to play around with characters who are fun, complex, and utterly outrageous. There is no room for boring characters in absurdist fiction—unless, of course, it’s their boringness that drives the narrative. Ultimately, treat this genre as an opportunity to encourage your audience to question beliefs they’ve always held. Invite them to take a break from their everyday lives to contemplate the very nature of existence itself.

And finally, I want to end on a quote that, to me, represents one of the best descriptions of what it’s like to write absurdist fiction. This comes from author Kevin Wilson who, discussing the writing process for his 2019 novel Nothing to See Herein an interview with Lit Hub, said this: “But what I try to do is like if you turn your house that you live in, if you turn it completely on its side, everything comes crashing down. You immediately fall, you’re completely destabilized. But what I try to do is if I can just tilt it seven degrees, you don’t necessarily know that the floor is tilted, you just know something’s not quite right. But you can’t really give a name to it because when you look out the window, like everything still seems kind of right. And if I can just get that slight amount of tilt then there’s all the anchors that are always going to be there. The house is still the house, everything’s in its place. But as you walk or move around, there’s this absurdity or oddness to it.”

And in my personal opinion, that’s where the beauty lies.

Andrea Moran lives outside of Nashville with her husband and two kids. She’s a professional copywriter and editor who loves all things books. Find her on LinkedIn.