Simple software is easy to underestimate.
It can look plain from the outside. Fewer abstractions. Fewer moving parts. Fewer layers to admire.
But most of the time, simple software is not the result of doing less work. It is the result of making harder choices earlier.
Over time, I have started to value that more and more.
Not because I think every project should stay tiny, or because complexity is always bad, but because unnecessary complexity has a way of spreading quietly. It enters a project one reasonable decision at a time until the whole thing becomes harder to understand, harder to change, and harder to trust.
Keeping software simple has become less of a style preference for me and more of a working principle.
How Complexity Sneaks In
Very few projects start out complicated on purpose.
Usually it happens because every decision makes sense in isolation.
A new abstraction feels reusable. A new tool promises speed. A new layer feels safer. A new dependency seems like the cleanest way to solve a small problem.
None of those choices look dangerous on their own.
The problem is that complexity compounds.
You do not just pay for a decision when you add it. You pay for it every time you return to the code, explain it to someone else, debug around it, or try to replace it later.
That is the part I think about more now.
When I am building something, I try to ask a simple question: will this make the next version of the project easier to work on, or just more impressive right now?
Those are not always the same thing.
What Simple Means to Me
Simple does not mean minimal for the sake of it.
It does not mean removing useful features. It does not mean writing everything from scratch. And it definitely does not mean refusing better tools just to feel clever.
For me, simple software usually has a few qualities:
- it is easy to explain
- it is easy to change
- it does not hide basic behavior behind too many layers
- it solves the actual problem without inventing extra ones
- it stays understandable even after a few weeks away from the code
That last one matters more than people admit.
A lot of code feels clean on the day it is written. The real test is whether it still feels clear when you come back later with less context and less energy.
Decisions I Delay on Purpose
One thing I have learned is that some decisions become better when they are made later.
Early in a project, it is tempting to prepare for scale, for flexibility, for imagined future requirements. Sometimes that is necessary, but often it is just anxiety disguised as good engineering.
I try to delay a few kinds of decisions unless the project truly demands them:
- adding architectural layers before the problem is clear
- introducing heavy tooling for workflows that are still changing
- over-generalizing components too early
- optimizing for edge cases I have not actually hit yet
- splitting code based on what might happen instead of what exists now
Delaying these decisions is not laziness. It is a way of protecting clarity.
Once the real constraints show up, the right structure usually becomes easier to see.
The Tools I Reach For
The tools I like most are usually the ones that reduce decisions instead of multiplying them.
That is one reason I enjoy working with things like Next.js, TypeScript, Tailwind CSS, and MDX. Not because they are always the answer, but because they let me move without constantly negotiating the basics.
I like tools that make common paths obvious.
I like patterns that are boring in a good way.
I like defaults that let me focus on the product instead of the ceremony around it.
The more time I spend building, the less interested I am in software that makes simple things feel important. I want the work itself to matter more than the setup around it.
Simplicity Is Not a Lack of Ambition
Sometimes simple software gets mistaken for small thinking.
I do not see it that way.
In many cases, simplicity requires more discipline than complexity. It asks you to remove things you could justify keeping. It asks you to resist adding layers that might look sophisticated but do not improve the result. It asks you to be honest about what a project actually needs.
That is not lower ambition. If anything, it is a stricter standard.
The goal is not to build less. The goal is to build with enough clarity that the software can keep growing without collapsing under its own weight.
When Complexity Is Worth It
I do not think complexity should be avoided at all costs.
Some problems are genuinely complex. Some products need stronger boundaries, more infrastructure, deeper abstractions, or more careful system design.
The important thing is that the complexity should be earned.
It should show up because the product needs it, not because it feels like the professional thing to do by default.
If a new layer gives better reliability, clearer ownership, safer changes, or a real improvement in user experience, then it may be worth carrying.
But if it mostly adds ceremony, then it is probably too early.
What I Keep Coming Back To
The software I admire most usually feels calm.
Not empty. Not simplistic. Just clear.
It does what it needs to do. It leaves room for change. It respects the time of the person building it and the person using it.
That is the kind of software I want to keep making.
The older I get as an engineer, the less I want to impress code and the more I want to trust it.
And most of the time, trust starts with simplicity.