crispina kemp

Show Don’t Tell

This writing advice has become a modern mantra for fiction writers. But before I say more, let’s clarify:

Showing is usually used for

• sensory details (hearing, seeing, tasting, smelling, balance & temperature)
• action (kissing, killing, kicking)
• dialogue (“Bang-bang, you’re dead.” “Clank-clank, I’m a tank.”)

Telling is usually used for

• exposition (world building)
• backstory (what happened to Henry that might explain what Henry’s doing now)
• naming emotions (Henry was happy when his cat came back)
• naming traits (Henry was easily riled)
• descriptions (Henry was a tall but frail fellow)

But not all writers accept the show don’t tell mantra

Hello, Future Me on YouTube calls it “the ungodly hammer with which new writers are bludgeoned.”

Writer Brandon McNulty calls it “a big bad lie.”

Writer Brandon Sanderson has called it “some of the worst advice he’s heard.”

Furthermore, the top pro-writers don’t stick to that mantra. In a survey of top selling books, it was found that over 60% of a chapter is ‘straight telling’.

What’s wrong with show don’t tell?

For a start, in following this mantra the writer produces prose that’s less immersive, not more. Which isn’t what the writer nor the reader wants. And it plays real havoc with pacing.

Why and how? Because to show requires a lot more words. And more words mean slower reading. There are places where it fits, but there are many more places where it doesn’t.

Moreover, to skip over or to omit the set-up for a scene (telling) and jump straight to the action and dialogue (showing)) is a fine way to leave the reader confused. Do movies do this? No. First there’s an establishing shot. Because the reader needs to know where the scene is and who’s here, and how much time has passed. Stuff like that. Otherwise… as I’ve discovered from my alpha and beta readers… the result is bewilderment.

In short, too much showing trammels the reader in excess verbiage.

Where is showing justified?

Beyond the obvious of relevant plot or character action and dialogue, mainly in showing emotions. Especially those that help develop the reader’s empathy for the character. To get the reader inside the character’s skin. All those moments of interiority (the industry’s buzzword of the day), with the character weighing a situation, reflecting… or even just daydreaming

“A deep breath of contentment, a closing of eyes, and off to a world where she’d rather be. Where she’s riding a horse despite she’s never seen one. Ahead, a thorn-hedged isle where she’ll deal for rich fabrics and pots of gleaming copper. A grin spreads over her lips.” Excerpt from Saramequai

But to show how it feels to be happy, in 99% of cases, is unnecessary. We know how it feels. Yet there might be a particular circumstance where the protagonist doesn’t know how it feels or hasn’t felt it for a very long time. Then it’s justified to show it, probably by using stream of consciousness.

Why has telling been demonised?

And why has this advice become a mantra when it doesn’t help the new writer, nor any author who’s trying to improve their craft and chances of publication?

I think the answer is because of movies and TV. These primarily are visual media where it’s all show with very little telling.

The majority of plots are now structured according to the movie industry. Save the Cat and all that. Joseph Campbell’s Hero of a Thousand Faces and his later work, The Hero’s Journey, has been held up as the originator of that. Yet Campbell’s work refers to myths, not to modern movies, and certainly not to modern works of fiction.

It seems everyone wants a template. No, let me rephrase that. It seems everyone wants to sell a template that we all can use. One size fits all.

Thankfully, there are some who won’t conform.

Strangely (or not) they’re the ones who are most successful.

I’ll leave you with that thought, for that’s all I’ve to say this week.

Thank you for reading. All comments gratefully received.