Master the Art of Holding Back: The Iceberg Theory Explained

Ever read a book and felt like something was hidden just out of reach?

Like the author was playing a game, giving you just enough to keep you hooked, but not enough to fully spell things out?

Maybe a character hints at “what happened that summer” but never explains. Or a fantasy world feels lived-in, as if history is tucked into every street corner and battle scar, even though you’re only given glimpses.

You know there’s more. You feel it. And somehow, that makes the story even better.

That’s not an accident. That’s Iceberg Theory — a storytelling trick that is so delicate and delightful it is hard to do right.

But it’s why some of the greatest stories feel effortless, immersive, and real.

And today, I’m going to show you exactly how it works (and help you look so cool at your next Tuesday night Grammar & Literary Club 🤓).

What the Iceberg Theory Has to Do With Your Writing

Popular writer Ernest Hemingway once said:

Translation: Don’t dump your entire world-building notebook onto the page.

Think of it like an iceberg.

The part above the surface — that’s what your reader actually sees. The massive, unseen chunk below — that’s everything you know about your story’s world, backstory, and characters that never makes it into the book directly.

I’m not saying you need to talk cryptically and keep information away from your reader. It’s about trusting your reader to connect the dots.

The more you omit, the more your readers use their imagination and engage with the story.

The more you let them engage with the story, the more invested they become.

It’s a unique form of chemistry where each reader, after filling in the gaps for themselves, walks away with their own unique version.

What Happens When You Don’t Use It? (Ahem, Tolkien, I’m Looking at You)

Now, don’t get me wrong — I love The Lord of the Rings. It’s a masterpiece. But Tolkien . . . my guy . . . you did not need to spend three pages describing a tree.

We’ve all read books where the author hits you with a firehose of world-building before you even know the main character’s name.

The results are painful.

Instead of being immersed in the world, you’re slogging through paragraphs about ancient trade routes and regional politics, wondering when something actually happens.

On the flip side, when Iceberg Theory is done well, it’s like magic:

• Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling) – Instead of stopping the story to explain every magical law, Rowling lets Harry (and the reader) learn about the wizarding world naturally as he experiences it.

• Gone Girl (Gillian Flynn) – Flynn doesn’t just leave things out — she literally lies to you (through an unreliable narrator). You think you know the story, but every page makes you question what’s real.

• Game of Thrones (George R.R. Martin) – Martin built an entire history book’s worth of lore, but instead of dumping it on you, he sprinkles it in through dialogue, rumors, and 546 character perspectives.

It’s okay to have a deep, rich world. Just don’t make your readers swim through an ocean of exposition to find the good stuff.

How You Can Use Iceberg Theory to Write Stronger Stories

Alright, let’s talk practical application. How can you use this in your writing, sermons, and copy?

1. Know more than you show – Your characters have histories, your world has depth, but your reader doesn’t need all of it. Keep 90% of your iceberg below the surface.

2. Trust your reader – Readers are smart. Give them just enough clues to figure things out without spoon-feeding them like toddlers.

3. Show, don’t tell – Don’t say “John was angry.” Show him slamming a door, gripping his coffee cup too tight, or muttering under his breath. Let the reader infer his emotions.

4. Use mystery strategically – Ever wonder why Jesus spoke in parables? He rarely gave straight-up answers. Instead, He invited His audience to think, wrestle, and seek understanding. A well-placed mystery makes your story more engaging.

Why This Matters (And Why You Shouldn’t Ignore It)

Stories aren’t just words on a page. They’re experiences. 

You are inviting your reader to go on a (sometimes) long trip with you.

And when you master Iceberg Theory, you shift from just a writer to a storyteller who knows how to keep readers hooked, guessing, and wanting more.

So, here’s your challenge:

• What part of your story could be held back?

• What details can you let your reader discover instead of handing it to them outright?

TL;DR Version (For the Skimmers in the Back)

• Iceberg Theory = Show only what’s necessary, let the rest exist below the surface.

• Too much detail = reader fatigue (looking at you, Tolkien).

• Best stories make readers fill in the gaps (Harry Potter, Gone Girl, Game of Thrones).

• Practical application = Know more than you say, trust your reader, show don’t tell, use mystery well.

• Jesus used this principle in storytelling, so you’re in good company.

Write on 🤙

Payton “iceberg pictures freak me out” Minzenmayer

P.S. I deleted my X account — too much noise, too little value. I found myself caring way too much about yet another insignificant metric.

If you want to connect on social, find me on Threads or LinkedIn (though, fair warning, one of them might not survive my next digital purge).