Writing advice is often full of sage, over-generalized clichés. Famous ones include “write what you know,” and “less is more.” Today, we will be discussing another cliché: the concept of “show, don’t tell.” Like most writing advice, it’s important, but needs context. What is show, don’t tell, and why does it matter?
Show, don’t tell is a technique in which sensory details are used to immerse the reader in the story, rather than using quick, non-immersive exposition. Showing illustrates, putting the reader into the story, while telling just states. Showing is more compelling to the story, and certainly more enjoyable for the reader. Showing allows the reader to use their imagination, even if it differs from what the author imagines. Telling leaves nothing to the imagination. It’s lazy writing and lazy reading.
Does it matter? Most of the time, yes. If you are describing the setting of your story, a major character, or a major part of the plot, you should show. This means going into the kind of detail where the reader can see, smell, taste, hear, feel the colors and textures, the sounds, etc. of what is being described, as though the reader were actually there. Isn’t I wrinkled my nose in distaste and turned away better than It stank? Doesn’t I lay awake in bed, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks. The sky was dark with rolling clouds, and I could hear the storm creeping closer paint a more dramatic picture than a coming storm made the waves louder? Less important characters or subplots may need less show, but remember, if it is in your story, you should make the most of it. Nothing, after all, should be unimportant, or why is it in there to begin with? The trick is knowing what weight to give each part of your story.
Let’s go over a few fuller examples to demonstrate the difference in a little more depth. The first is of a very hungry person finally getting to eat. Tell: Tommy was really hungry and ate everything in sight. Ellen rolled her eyes. “Wow, you’re really hungry”. Show: Tommy began spooning up cereal from the huge bowl, eating so fast he barely had time to taste it. His eyes caught sight of a plate of toast on the table and he eagerly grabbed a slice, shoveling it in without bothering with butter or jam. He paid scant attention to anything else. Ellen looked at him in concern. ‘Slow down, you’ll get indigestion,. You’ll be no good to any of us, then,’ she cautioned.”
We understand either way that Tommy hasn’t eaten in a long while. But in telling, we learn little beyond that, so the reader isn’t really invested. Most of us eat when we’re hungry; what’s so special about Tommy? Why even have it in the story? Review the show and see what it offers us. We experience his hunger as though we are there. We see him hungry enough not to bother with good manners or to take the time to butter his toast. Ellen’s comment is understandable but raises more questions. You’ll be no good to any of us, then suggests her concern is what his getting a bellyache will prevent, rather than the bellyache itself. It makes us ask questions and want to know what came before and after. What was he doing that he couldn’t eat for so long? What will getting indigestion prevent him from doing? Is this an overworked farmer about to lose his land? Did he just escape from a villain and waiting for the police or federal assistance? Something else equally at stake? The point is that we now have a tiny story here, not an unimportant aside, carelessly dumped in. We are invested enough to care.
The second example is someone entering a room, seeing the person she’s fallen in love with. Tell: Oh, he looked nice! Show: I entered the room and caught my breath at the sight of him. His tan was set off by the black of the tux and his steel-blue eyes shone. He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling as he moved toward me.
In this example, the tell doesn’t say much. What does he look like and how does he look nice? How much more care is taken with the show, that we can see the tan, the blue eyes, that smile. It implies so much more than his appearance, even though that is what she is describing.
The next example is of someone secretly spying on someone else, in a hot and humid atmosphere. Tell: It was hot and humid, and I couldn’t stop sweating. Show: “I had been hiding for over fifteen minutes, waiting for him to leave the warehouse. I kept wiping the sweat from my forehead, but the moment I did, more would appear. For fifteen minutes! I felt like that’s all I was doing. Sweat dripped in a stream, into my eyes, down my cheeks. Suddenly, I saw him leave. He was with someone, and I frantically wiped the sweat away trying to recognize his companion.
The tell has the advantage of being succinct. And depending upon the overall importance of the scene, that might be all you need. But the show offers more information, including just how hot it is, and how difficult the sweat is making him see things. Plus, it adds humor to the situation, and if the reader laughs, that is probably what the writer intended, even if placed in a larger context of suspense.
One final example introduces the reader to a new character in the story, from the point of view of the narrator. Tell: He was six feet tall, with green eyes, dark hair, and dressed in casual, but high-quality clothing. He was around thirty years old. Show: He was maybe two inches above my own five feet ten. I was more into blonds, but even so, I could see how his green eyes were better complemented by his dark hair and tan. His clothing was casual, but even to my untrained eye, seemed expensive. I guessed his age to be about thirty.
The tell gives us all the information we need to begin with, but in a by-rote way that is a little boring. Depending upon the situation, that may be all you need. But if it is the intro to a major character, he deserves more attention. And if he barely appears in the story, we probably don’t even need the detail we got. The show tells us so much more, not just about the new character, but about the narrator. We now know more things about the narrator, not just the man. We now know the narrator; height, his or her preferences, and that they’re attracted anyway. The narrator doesn’t know their Prada from their Yves St. Laurent, but they know haute couture when they see it. The information about the new character is roughly the same, but the show is more informative about the narrator and more interesting to read. NOTE: I said above that if the new character is minor, we probably don’t need the information we got. Don’t make the mistake of thinking every single thing in your story needs to be shown. Again, you must weigh the importance of a character, setting, background information, plot point, etc. when deciding how much to delve into the showing.
The advantages of showing are broad. One, it gives us the setting of your story. If the setting is a city, you want the reader to “see” the tall buildings, the parks, the tourist sights, to hear the noise, to feel the heat reflecting off the pavement. If the setting is the countryside, you want the reader to feel the gently swaying barley against the girl’s skirt, or the arctic cold of the North Pole. Or the sound of a stream as it moves toward a river somewhere in the distance. Or the birds chirping as the sun rises over the mountains. Many writers short the setting, investing their time in character and plot. This is a mistake. A story is meaningless without the setting and showing is vital to that; the more important the setting, the more it should be shown.
Two, as demonstrated in an above example, showing is important to character introductions. The reader doesn’t want to be fed information as though reading a dossier. They want to read it in a more imaginative way and be either drawn or repelled, whichever the intention and/or the reader’s own imagination. In the example above, many details are given up front, but remember to offer more details as the story progresses. There is no need to offer everything at once. NOTE: When it comes to a character’s physical details, not every character needs exact statistics. It is helpful to the writer, to be sure, but isn’t necessarily needed in the finished story. Saying someone is tall, or of average height, or being told indirectly, as in Her green eyes were friendly as she shook my hand should suffice. NOTE: When adding such descriptors, be sure they make sense. For more information on good (or bad) places to add descriptors, read my blog post on Modifiers: Adding Adjectives and Adverbs.
Three, in a good story, character development should be shown, and not abruptly told to the reader. Is the villain of the piece liked by most people? Instead of telling the reader he’s well-liked (and nobody likes to be told what to think) show us by demonstrating others’ laughter at his jokes, their appreciation at his favors, their bewilderment at the hero’s hostility. A skillful author can even guide the reader without just telling. In the villain example above, maybe the author likes the villain and is persuading the reader to their side. (J.K. Rowling was famous for liking Professor Snape, though of course, he wasn’t well-liked by his fellow characters). Is this a romance? Instead of having the characters think how much they’re falling in love, show it by describing their reactions to each other. What about suspense? Don’t tell us they’re terrified; show us their growing fear.
Four, showing is important for characters interacting within their setting, each other, and the plot. Characters are always involved in their environment. Show them reacting to extreme temperatures. If they are hiking up a mountain, we should see the outcroppings they might stumble on, or the slick moss that makes them slip. Always remember that the character’s actions and feelings, and the plot driving those actions, are in a place. The more colorful you are in showing it, the better the reader will see it. Showing how the plot is driven or hindered by the setting draws the reader more into it, especially when any suspense is involved. For the reader, it is more fun to figure it out on one’s own, based on being shown, than just being told.
Five, showing can be used in dialogue. Dialogue isn’t just communication between characters, it is communication between characters and readers. Among the questions the writer can ask themselves of a character are: Is a character’s native language English or another language? Do they have an accent, and if so, how strong? Are they educated, or not so much? Are they worldly or naïve? Cynical or optimistic? Sarcastic or direct? Once you decide the answers, you can use dialogue to show it. Such dialogue speaks to the character’s character (as it were), and to their interaction with others, as well as the plot. Do not tell. For example, it is better to show a character is funny rather than just say it. Just remember that oftentimes, what a character means is the opposite of what they say. For example, regarding humor, one character may tell another he’s really funny, but it’s established that the speaker is sarcastic by nature and thus he means he thinks the other character isn’t really funny. If you do your job right, the reader will understand; there is no need to then let them know the first character was being sarcastic.
Finally, showing can be used to demonstrate a character’s dreams, hopes, fears, the things that drive them. The character’s known (or implied) past experiences can be used to show us. Don’t tell us little Jimmy is afraid of the dark, show us his reaction when Mommy turns out the light and leaves. Or show us the experience that made him afraid of the dark. When it comes to moving the plot forward, don’t lose momentum by telling. Describe the action, then continue moving the story forward.
It should be noted that sometimes telling is preferred. Narrative shortcuts are sometimes necessary. When you open a story, you want to hook a reader quickly, and avoid long, detailed scenes until later. The same is true with short sub-plots; they are important to the main plot, but not of the highest importance. Tell and move on. Think of a movie montage, where they spend a very brief time showing the plot being advanced during sports training or falling in love—usually to song—while making it fairly brief. That’s what you want in such cases. You also want brevity at the end, if any final explaining is to be done. Nobody wants fifty pages of explanation once the plot is resolved.
Here is some additional advice regarding show, don’t tell:
- Telling is very convenient and a perfectly acceptable way to write your initial outline or draft of a story. Just remember to expand it as you write everything out.
- Don’t do a beautiful job on showing, then make the mistake of distrusting your readers and telling them anyway. If you’ve done your job right, you must trust the reader to react to the words. This is often easier said than done.
- Don’t overdo on the showing, and yes, one can overdo it. If your story is about the Holy Grail, a page on the cup’s description is fine. If your character is walking in a garden and picks a flower, in a story that has nothing to do with gardens or flowers, a page describing the flower is entirely too much.
- Don’t compare your person or setting to something that already exists. This is considered lazy–and thus bad–writing. For example, when Ian Fleming created James Bond, he pictured Bond looking like actor Hoagy Carmichael. Instead of just describing Carmichael in the first couple of books, and letting the reader picture it, he told the reader what to imagine. Likewise, if you’re setting your book in one location, describe that location. Don’t just tell the reader to picture the Alps if your story is in the Rockies. Describe the Rockies. Otherwise, you have defeated your own purpose. This is about world-building. Build the best, most imaginative world for your reader and they’ll love being there.
Anton Chekhov [allegedly] once famously said, “Don’t just tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass.” A good writer wants the reader to imagine that light. A great writer makes the reader feel they are there. This cannot happen unless the writer shows.
But nothing works better than practicing and by learning from other authors who are famous in their ability to show, not tell. A tiny list might include Mary Stewart, J.R.R. Tolkien, Piers Anthony, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Stephen King, and Agatha Christie. But there are many, many more, hundreds more. Open books you own, and look for ways that authors show, and don’t just tell. Then pick an item of your choice and write about it with as much detail as possible. Practice!