Writing Tip No. 13

Show, Don’t Tell

Writers often make the mistake of “telling” their readers how someone feels (She felt her anger boiling over) or that the room is a mess (The room looked like a tornado came through it). But what readers and editors actually want is for you and I to paint a picture of what’s being seen and experienced from your character’s point of view.

Writers should avoid “telling” their readers information that is better experienced through showing them what’s being seen or experienced.

Below, I offer examples of “telling,” then I offer a correction, a “showing” sentence/paragraph that offers readers a more vivid picture of what’s going on.

To break the habit of “telling,” go to your manuscript and identify any sentence that “tells.” Most of them won’t include any details. Copy that sentence to a blank Word document. Then rip it apart. Use the examples I’ve provided here as a guide.

Telling Sentence #1

The room was a mess.

Explanation

This sentence “tells” the reader the room was a mess. But notice that the sentence doesn’t shows us anything. If your sentence doesn’t reveal any details, more than likely you’re “telling” your readers, rather than showing/revealing the details.

The room was a mess.

Also, this sentence can literally mean different things to different people. So, naturally what this sentence means to you may differ from the way the character in the novel sees it. Bottom line, readers want clarification of a messy room from your character’s point of view. That requires a “showing.”

I’m working on a novel about five women who battle obesity. The sentences below are extracted from my drafted manuscript, Easier to Die.

Instead of writing, “The room was a mess,” I wrote the following:

Correction / Showing

Diarra was quick to cover her mouth and nose to guard against the stench of sour milk inside Shelley’s bedroom. The room looked as if someone had been in a terrible fight—the comforter piled high in one corner, the venetian blinds one pull away from hitting the floor. Diarra didn’t want to imagine the struggle that must have taken place to remove her five-hundred-and-twenty-pound friend from the second-floor apartment building. No doubt, it wasn’t easy. On the corner of Shelley’s desk lay a plastic glass spilling a syrupy, chocolate mixture onto the floor. The countless magazines on the carpet left no room to place your feet. By the half-eaten plate of chicken Alfredo next to the computer, Shelley may have taken ill before finishing her meal. Diarra swatted at swarming gnats, still unable to grasp the death of her friend.

Final Explanation

The paragraph above gives you a visual. The reader is now seeing the room through Diarra’s eyes (Diarra’s point of view). The reader isn’t told the room is a mess. The reader sees the messy room as Diarra sees it.

If you were asked what a messy room means to you, it would be vastly different from Diarra’s point of view. But that’s the whole point … to see things through the character’s viewpoint and not our own. We are experiencing Diarra’s story, not our story. But don’t discount your personal experiences. They help you relate to Diarra. There are similarities. And these similarities help enrich your experience as a reader.

Telling Sentence #2

It was obvious she spent more money on her hair than her clothes.

Explanation

Telling your readers the woman spent more on her hair than her clothes doesn’t provide a good visual. No one sees evidence of this. You’re basically asking your reader to take your word for it.

Readers read because they enjoy the experiences afforded them through well-crafted words. Our job as writers is to cater to that need by painting vivid pictures. To do that, we must unfold minute details of well-kept secrets, use strong and vivid verbs for action, descriptive adjectives for sceneries, and the five senses to further engage our readers. It’s similar to “putting more meat on the bone” … or as my husband would say, “Honey, where’s the meat,” when he’s dishing up a bowl of pinto beans and cornbread. If I don’t have enough meat in that bean pot, he’s not happy. Likewise, your readers are not satisfied with your novel if you don’t flesh out your characters and their experiences.

Correction / Showing

The woman’s Botox smooth face resembled Betty Boop, only with thick, black glasses. Neatly cut into a short bob, her feathery strands tapered in the back and soft curls accented her temples. Heavily sprayed bangs swept across her forehead, not one strand out of place. The thin, faded garment she sported as a dress wasn’t a dress at all, but one of those familiar pink and green paisley housecoats worn by every grandma on this side of the Pacific. Diarra hurled a crooked grin at the garment, trying her best to avoid laughing at the woman’s beige support hose. Diarra arched an eyebrow and contemplated who this 1960s spectacle might be.

Final Explanation

The paragraph above offers more insight into the woman’s appearance. Her support hose gives you the idea she’s an older woman. Her hair signifies she’s trying to take years off her age with a younger-looking hairstyle. It’s a wonderful contradiction—a showing of the woman’s efforts to look younger without literally saying so.

In this paragraph, you also get more insight into Diarra’s character. She stifles a laugh at the woman’s hose. Why? Because Diarra thinks it’s funny the older woman is trying to defy her age.

Here in example #3, I made a lot of missteps. This is lengthy, but necessary to prove my point. Keep a sharp eye on the highlighted/underlined areas.

Telling Sentence #3

            “There you go, Carlie.  Just can’t keep the peace, can you?!” Angela yelled.

            “Ooh, this is my fault, right?” No one answered. “Riiight!” Carlie retreated to a corner in the bathroom and pouted.  She resented being picked on and lately it seemed to be happening more often.  She felt she had been treated better when they first met.  It had been an atrocious beginning.  Shelley had welcomed her with open arms, but the other three were reluctant.  Carlie sensed it; she could see it in their eyes.  Sometimes the memory of those first few months caused Carlie to curse them in her native tongue, just as she wanted to do now.  But it was Shelley’s day.  That much they had been right about.  She couldn’t wait for the day to end.  Like the others, she was exhausted—exhausted with the whole idea of dying.

Explanation

What makes this scene less engaging is the many stumbles I created with the use of fillers. Fillers are dead weight. They make your prose drag and can put your readers to sleep. Fillers can also be indicators you are “telling” your story, rather than giving your readers a vivid picture of the action. Let’s see if I can make this paragraph more dynamic and if I can do less “telling.”

Correction / Showing

            “There you go, Carlie. Just can’t keep the peace, can you?!” Angela yelled.

            “Ooh, so this is my fault, right?” No one answered. “Riiight!” Carlie stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door, shut the lid to the commode, and flopped her hefty body down. Who do they think they are? I refuse to be another punching bag. It reminded her of their atrocious beginning. Shelley welcomed her with open arms, but the others hesitated to hold a conversation with her. Carlie sensed their misgivings, saw it in their wayward glances. “Malditos sean!” Curse them all, she said in her native tongue. She let out a deep sigh. Today was Shelley’s day. That much they had been right about. But the day needed to end soon. She was exhausted—exhausted with the whole idea of dying.

Final Explanation

When I took out the auxiliary verbs (would, could), the paragraph became more active, more immediate for the reader. And instead of “telling” my readers Carlie felt she had been treated better when they first met, I focused on her resentment. Notice, I changed: “It had been an atrocious beginning” to “It reminded her of their atrocious beginning.” Then I immediately expressed Carlie’s early encounters with her four friends. At the end, I remind the readers what this scene is really all about—the differences in how these four women grieve the death of their friend.

FINAL WORD

Let me express that rules need to be incorporated into your story as you see fit. All rules don’t apply to all manuscripts. Some rules must be broken, so the integrity and authenticity of your story isn’t compromised. It all depends on the type of story you’re writing … what type of character you’ve created. A mafia boss won’t speak like a head of states spokesperson. And a homeless person may not have the manners of a chauffeur who caters to the rich.

You must decide what type of writer you want to be and what type of story you want to write.  Then, and only then can you incorporate the rules that best fit the era, the character, and the story.

So, the rules I have outlined must fit your story.

I’ll repeat what Lawrence Block once said: “If you want to write fiction, the best thing you can do is to take two aspirins, lie down in a dark room, and wait for the feeling to pass.”

Writing is hard work. Just when you think you’ve gotten it right, someone comes along and reveals all the missteps you’ve made.

But when you are as obsessed as I am, as many writers are, your fight to get your prose right only fuels more obsession.

Happy Writing!

Donna B. Comeaux

Author, Breathe for Me

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