How much backstory is too much?

You may have heard it said that prologues are falling out of favour in the publishing industry. Like just about every rumour of its kind (“Publishers and agents are fed up with first-person present-tense narratives!” or “Young Adult dystopian fiction is on its way out…”) this one isn’t really supported by much in the way of empirical evidence… but there’s still an element of truth behind it. It’s not necessarily prologues that are falling out of favour: it’s info-dump prologues that exist to share decades-worth of events that happened before the narrative even begins.

If you’ve ever picked up a book like this, you know the feeling. You’re left wondering, “Why should I care about the entire childhood history of these people I’ve only just met?” It’s like being invited to a party and getting cornered by that one person who only wants to talk about themselves. Backstory is essential for adding depth to our characters… but how much is too much?

Finding that sweet spot can be daunting. You want your reader to have all the information they need to guide them through the story, and you also want to make sure they understand your protagonist’s motivation. But here’s the thing: overwhelming your audience with backstory can be just as detrimental as providing none at all.

In this post, I’m going to unpack how to weave backstory into your narrative effectively without drowning your readers in details. We’ll look at how to breadcrumb information—dropping hints and clues that enhance the story—while keeping readers engaged and invested in your characters.

Let’s dive in.

Understanding backstory

First off, what exactly is backstory? Simply put, it’s the information about a character’s past that shapes who they are in the present. It includes elements like their upbringing, relationships, and pivotal events that have influenced their decisions and personality.

Backstory is crucial because it provides context. It helps readers understand your character’s motivations and emotional responses, which allows them to make deeper connections.

But backstory, unfortunately, can easily overpower your narrative if it’s not handled carefully. We want our readers invested in the character’s journey, not buried beneath a metric tonne of information about how they got there.

The show-don’t-tell principle

I know, I know: I’m sick of hearing me say it too, but it’s true. Readers engage more fully when they’re allowed to form their own conclusions based on the available evidence (showing) rather than being guided single-mindedly through a list of character attributes (telling). But knowing is not the same as doing, and the show-don’t-tell principle is often sadly neglected when it comes to backstory.

For example, say we meet a character called John. He flinches at loud noises. He has a hard time trusting new people. He changes the subject when asked about his parents and he carries a battered picture in his wallet of a child that’s clearly him, seated on a threadbare sofa with a baby in his arms. But there’s a vacant look in child-John’s eyes, and his clothes don’t fit properly, and the baby he’s holding is red-faced and screaming.

These details are dropped at regular, consistent intervals throughout the narrative, and each one deepens the reader’s understanding of who John is and what events in his backstory have shaped the person we meet at the start of the story. And make no mistake: a reader can infer a lot from these details. John is clearly carrying some significant trauma, and the topic of his family is obviously off-limits, suggesting that it’s the source of some difficult emotions. When the photo is introduced, we have tangible evidence that his was not a happy childhood, and likely included neglect of some sort.

Sure, we could state, when he’s first introduced, “John’s parents treated him poorly as a child and he grew up terrified of their outbursts. Foster care was no better and he learned to internalise his emotions and never show his true self. He left home in his late teens and lost contact with his sister at that time. He thinks about her often and worries that everything got worse for her after he wasn’t there to shield her. He’s never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months because he doesn’t know how to let anyone get close to him without feeling dangerously exposed and vulnerable.”

We could do it that way, but the distance we’d introduce between the reader and the character would make it much more difficult to build a connection. It’s like reading a synopsis—whereas dropping hints and clues and inviting the reader to understand John at this deeper, fundamental level presents him as a person to be known. Somebody we can relate to. Somebody whose story contains layers and complexity, and who will choose to reveal himself in his own time.

A fully realised character, in other words.

“Readers engage more fully when they’re allowed to form their own conclusions based on the available evidence.”

Signs you might be overdoing it

So how can you tell if you’re giving too much backstory? Here are some common signs:

Info dumps: If your narrative suddenly halts for several paragraphs of backstory, it’s likely an info dump. Info dumps are the opposite of compelling. They also disrupt the flow of your story and readers can sometimes skip them if they’re too long, wordy, or dense—which is a problem, if the info dump contains information you need your reader to have.
Over-explained characters: Does your characterisation read like a Wikipedia page? You’re almost certainly over-explaining them. Readers don’t need precise detail—they need clues and pointers that help them fill in the blanks. Remember: information that your reader can work out for themselves will always prompt more engagement than information you spell out for them on the page.
Reader disengagement: If feedback indicates that readers don’t feel invested in your character because they’re overwhelmed by details, it’s time for a rethink. Don’t panic—this is very common for emerging writers. Finding the balance between “enough” and “not enough” is nuanced, and the instinct is often to try and rigorously control the information flow so that your reader doesn’t miss anything. But it’s something to address in post-feedback revisions for sure.

Finding balance: tips for effective backstory

Okay, let’s look at how we can make sure we’re striking that balance the way we want to. Here are some tips for integrating backstory effectively:

Integrate gradually: It can be tempting to pour all the information you have about your character into the text, as soon as you uncover it in your writing. And that’s fine in a first draft, while you’re still working out your story. But from Draft 2 onwards, your mission must be to make sure that character information is sprinkled in snippets throughout your narrative like breadcrumbs leading your reader through a forest of intrigue. This way, backstory feels organic rather than forced.
Relevance is key: Again, in Draft 1, you can’t know for sure what’s going to be relevant to the final narrative, which means—for Draft 1 only—that everything is relevant. But once you have a completed draft in front of you, it’s time to be ruthless. Any backstory that’s not directly relevant to your character’s narrative arc or the overall plot development needs to hit the cutting room floor. Ask yourself: does this detail enhance our understanding of this moment? If not… time to snip. This relevance ties into the idea of breadcrumbing—when you introduce backstory, make sure it answers a question that has been posed in the narrative or raises a new one to keep readers engaged. For example, if your character is hesitant to enter a new relationship, revealing snippets about a past betrayal can explain their reluctance—and also keep readers engaged as they try to discover how your character will address their internal conflict.
Character perspective: Use your character’s viewpoint to allow past experiences to reveal themselves naturally in text. Let their history inform their reactions in real-time rather than spelling everything out beforehand. For instance, if your protagonist has a fear of water due to a childhood incident, you might choose to show this through their internal monologue when they’re faced with swimming for the first time rather than launching into an explanation about why they can’t swim.
Establish connection first: I can’t stress this enough. Introducing backstory before readers have had a chance to care about the character is a great way to lose your readers’ interest. We need to get to know our characters first; otherwise, we’re not invested enough in their present to care about their past. Instead of starting with events that occur in the narrative past, you can build intrigue by starting with a scene that highlights your character’s current struggles or desires. Once readers are hooked and invested in who they are in the present, you can drop breadcrumbs of backstory that provide context for their actions and choices.
Create questions and suspense: One of the best ways to keep readers engaged is by posing questions through your narrative that relate to your character’s backstory. For example, if you hint at a secret from your character’s past—like an estranged sibling—readers will want to know why that sibling is estranged and what impact it has on the character’s current life. Introducing elements of mystery tied to backstory lets you create a level of suspense that encourages readers to keep turning pages. Just remember: answering these questions should feel rewarding and satisfying rather than overwhelming.

Final thoughts: the art of balanced backstory

Ultimately, you want your readers to understand your characters deeply without feeling like they’ve just sat through an exhaustive biography lecture. By integrating backstory gradually, ensuring it’s always relevant, using character perspective effectively, establishing connections first, and creating questions that engage readers, you can craft compelling narratives that resonate.

Remember that every story is unique; there are always exceptions where more backstory may serve a specific purpose—just be mindful of how it impacts reader engagement overall.

But if you ever find yourself tempted to dive deep into your character’s past right off the bat… maybe just take a minute to consider how much context is truly necessary at that moment. It takes a bit of practice and trust in your reader, but you’ll find that the more you work at paring down your backstory, the more confident you’ll become that the small details you include from the huge tapestry of what you know are enough to help your readers understand and care about your characters.

And those are the kind of reader/character relationships that last long after they’ve finished your book.