Stop Telling and Start Showing (for Good)
July 13th, 2015
"When rejected, Jenny became angry" -- Mauvais Ecrivain
*shudder*
I need you to promise me something: that picture and subsequent quote you read above -- don't write like that. Ever. Not only is that sentence weak, but it's telling a whole lot more than it's showing. I'm not just talking about contextually here; one could infer that Jenny dislikes rejection. If your aim is brevity, then I suppose you're one step closer by writing a sentence like that. But today I'm alluding to the age-old discussion of show v. tell, and when these lessons are coupled with brevity, then you've a strong sentence at your disposal.
Let's jump right to it!
What Is This "Showing" and Telling You Speak Of?
Showing and telling can make all the difference when it comes to enjoying a book. It's the hallmark of an experienced writer or the virescent glow of a first-year scribbler. Let's try to avoid writing crappy sentences, shall we?
Review the following example:
"Jennifer doesn't enjoy orange juice." (Telling)
"Revulsed by its citric sting, Jennifer spat out the orange juice." (Showing)
Now, albeit not the best example (I'm writing this at 6 am, without coffee... gimme a break), I feel it's pretty clear in displaying the differences. Telling is an abrasive, party-pooping method in which a writer treats his/her reader like a five-year-old. Jennifer doesn't retch at the juice's taste or curse the gods for the creation of the orange -- no, she simply "doesn't enjoy orange juice." Well, hate to say it, but not enjoying something won't cut it.
If this is confusing, "telling" is boring, nondescript, and worst of all, lazy. Most cases of telling instead of showing falls into at least one of those categories. Readers love description when it's done well! They enjoy the sense of immersion that comes along with journeying nearby their protagonist, as well as learning about the nuances of a character. If Jennifer dislikes orange juice, does her nose crinkle and her brows furrow? Does she dry heave? Or projectile vomit? Get into the nitty-gritty, no matter how gross! Again, avoid the boring, nondescript, and lazy sentences.
Here's another one:
"Ricard Alderion felt sad over the death of his comrades." (Telling)
"Ricard Alderion wept, clutching the lifeless body of his comrade." (Showing)
It's not enough that Alderion "felt sad"; as a reader I want emotion, dammit! I want to know what's happening in Alderion's head. Is he lamenting the loss of his comrade or is he reminded of his own mortality through the death of his comrade? Ricard Alderion feeling "sad" SUCKS in comparison to Ricard Alderion weeping and clutching his friend's corpse. There's so much wasted potential at hand! And that's just one facet of what makes a book worth reading; the writer's adroit reveal of his/her character's inner and/or external struggles. Don't tell me Alderion is undergoing trauma, let me see it for myself. Torture the poor bastard for chrissake.
Last example before I let you go:
"Charlie Brown wanted to murder Lucy." (Telling)
"Charlie Brown's hand quivers. He reaches for his waistband, for his grandfather's Colt 1911 with the ivory grip. Seven rounds patiently wait in the magazine, one in the chamber. Lucy pins the football to the ground with her pointer finger. She won't pull the pigskin away this time. Not anymore. Never again." (Showing)
All right, so that one was a little darker than the other two, but I hope this clarifies matters. In the first sentence, Charlie Brown simply wanted to murder Lucy (*yawn* Ho hum...). In the second sentence however, we've learned that Charlie Brown is a thieving little mongrel who lacks fundamental coping mechanisms. But let's be honest here, which story out of the two would you rather read?
For questions, comments, concerns, feel free to contact me and we'll chat. As always, thanks for reading. Happy writing/reading!
-V.C. Remus
*shudder*
I need you to promise me something: that picture and subsequent quote you read above -- don't write like that. Ever. Not only is that sentence weak, but it's telling a whole lot more than it's showing. I'm not just talking about contextually here; one could infer that Jenny dislikes rejection. If your aim is brevity, then I suppose you're one step closer by writing a sentence like that. But today I'm alluding to the age-old discussion of show v. tell, and when these lessons are coupled with brevity, then you've a strong sentence at your disposal.
Let's jump right to it!
What Is This "Showing" and Telling You Speak Of?
Showing and telling can make all the difference when it comes to enjoying a book. It's the hallmark of an experienced writer or the virescent glow of a first-year scribbler. Let's try to avoid writing crappy sentences, shall we?
Review the following example:
"Jennifer doesn't enjoy orange juice." (Telling)
"Revulsed by its citric sting, Jennifer spat out the orange juice." (Showing)
Now, albeit not the best example (I'm writing this at 6 am, without coffee... gimme a break), I feel it's pretty clear in displaying the differences. Telling is an abrasive, party-pooping method in which a writer treats his/her reader like a five-year-old. Jennifer doesn't retch at the juice's taste or curse the gods for the creation of the orange -- no, she simply "doesn't enjoy orange juice." Well, hate to say it, but not enjoying something won't cut it.
If this is confusing, "telling" is boring, nondescript, and worst of all, lazy. Most cases of telling instead of showing falls into at least one of those categories. Readers love description when it's done well! They enjoy the sense of immersion that comes along with journeying nearby their protagonist, as well as learning about the nuances of a character. If Jennifer dislikes orange juice, does her nose crinkle and her brows furrow? Does she dry heave? Or projectile vomit? Get into the nitty-gritty, no matter how gross! Again, avoid the boring, nondescript, and lazy sentences.
Here's another one:
"Ricard Alderion felt sad over the death of his comrades." (Telling)
"Ricard Alderion wept, clutching the lifeless body of his comrade." (Showing)
It's not enough that Alderion "felt sad"; as a reader I want emotion, dammit! I want to know what's happening in Alderion's head. Is he lamenting the loss of his comrade or is he reminded of his own mortality through the death of his comrade? Ricard Alderion feeling "sad" SUCKS in comparison to Ricard Alderion weeping and clutching his friend's corpse. There's so much wasted potential at hand! And that's just one facet of what makes a book worth reading; the writer's adroit reveal of his/her character's inner and/or external struggles. Don't tell me Alderion is undergoing trauma, let me see it for myself. Torture the poor bastard for chrissake.
Last example before I let you go:
"Charlie Brown wanted to murder Lucy." (Telling)
"Charlie Brown's hand quivers. He reaches for his waistband, for his grandfather's Colt 1911 with the ivory grip. Seven rounds patiently wait in the magazine, one in the chamber. Lucy pins the football to the ground with her pointer finger. She won't pull the pigskin away this time. Not anymore. Never again." (Showing)
All right, so that one was a little darker than the other two, but I hope this clarifies matters. In the first sentence, Charlie Brown simply wanted to murder Lucy (*yawn* Ho hum...). In the second sentence however, we've learned that Charlie Brown is a thieving little mongrel who lacks fundamental coping mechanisms. But let's be honest here, which story out of the two would you rather read?
For questions, comments, concerns, feel free to contact me and we'll chat. As always, thanks for reading. Happy writing/reading!
-V.C. Remus