Show and Tell

While trying to narrow down a topic for today’s post from the multitude of tips, tricks and information I’ve been inundated with over the past several months, I decided I’d try to tackle a biggie: Showing versus Telling. Sure, there are already countless articles and posts on the web that address this fundamental area of improvement for authors of all walks of genre, but I was hard pressed to find any resources that really made it ‘click’ for me personally. So here’s my stab at it….

If you’ve lurked on blogs or websites for writers, you’ve probably heard the phrase “show, don’t tell” thrown around at some time or another. In other words, it’s better to show your reader what’s going on than to tell them. Showing them is more dramatic, more personal. It’s an easy enough concept to remember…but another thing entirely to apply it to your writing!

But why? We’re always hearing phrases like: “I’ll believe it when I see it” or “Show me what you mean.” It would stand to reason that visually describing events in our literary works would be second nature. For some reason, it simply isn’t.

Perhaps it’s because the fundamental art of storytelling is telling. In our fact-based society, we’re conditioned to communicate events in a concise, direct manner. Take the following example:

 

Mr. Boss,

Due to a momentary lapse of judgment last night, I found myself consuming copious amounts of adult beverages until the wee hours of the morning. Despite a faint sour odor of indiscernible origin, the dark, cozy bar had the perfect blend of brooding music, exotic women, and a freshly groomed pool table for us to enjoy. Thoughts of today’s early morning meeting were quickly swept aside by the sway of beautifully curved hips, straw-blonde hair tossed carelessly over a shoulder, and pouting lips which snarled ever so slightly at the corner. Begging me to stay. Demanding my submission.

After waking next to the porcelain mistress I apparently slept with last night, I realized the pounding in my head would likely not subside without additional liquor, a fistful of ibuprofen, and/or several hours of quality sleep. As such, I’ll need to excuse myself from not only the riveting meeting planned for this morning, but the remainder of the day as well.

Sincerely,

-Employee

 

Okay, so I’m tempted to squirrel that away and actually send it one day…just to see Mr. Boss’s reaction. My point, though, is that in daily life it’s so much easier and direct to say: “I don’t feel good and need to take a sick day today.” We tell.

So how do we switch gears in our writing so that we show instead of tell? Well, that’s the tricky part and something I still don’t have a comprehensive strategy for tackling. But something I do is look for verbs.

She walked…
She was scared.
He looked…

When revising your manuscript, evaluate your sentences to see if your verb usage is appropriate for the effect you’re trying to convey. Are you telling the reader what the character is doing/seeing/feeling/thinking? Is there a way you can convey the information through description or action instead?

For instance:

Fear gripped him as he hung perilously from the edge of the cliff.

Instead, try describing what’s happening to your character and allow your reader to infer the fear themselves. Generally speaking, they’re usually pretty smart, and are capable of coming to their own conclusions on things!

Hanging perilously from the steep rock face, the ground seemed to spiral out of view below him, amplifying the distance to dizzying proportions. The rush of adrenaline sharpened his senses as he looked desperately for a way to hoist himself back to the safety of the ledge above. Nothing. He knew it was only moments before his grip gave out. Only moments to come up with something. Anything!

Notice I never once said he was “afraid.” But in reading the paragraph it’s impossible not to know that the character is afraid. “Dizzying proportions,” “desperately,” “rush of adrenaline,” “only moments”—all infer ‘fear’ without actually saying it.

The downside of showing is that it often requires more words to pull off. It’s always more direct and efficient to tell…but c’mon folks, it’s boring!

Weak verbs do nothing to compliment your story and should be used rarely. These ‘vanilla’ words are overused in our language and add no flavor to your sentence whatsoever. They only serve to tell, not show.

Examples of weak/vanilla verbs are:

walked
looked
held
opened
said
sat

You can liven up vanilla verbs somewhat by adding modifiers like this:

She walked to the door with restrained urgency.

However, it’s kind of like putting a bow on an empty box: it doesn’t make it a present. It’s still an empty box.

You can add similes to your sentence to spice up vanilla verbs too:

She walked to the door like a lioness stalking her unsuspecting prey.

In my opinion, this approach only works somewhat. Your reader will ignore “walked” and use the simile as the inferred verb. Why not just replace the verb altogether and make the sentence stronger? A stronger verb will make for a stronger mental image from the simile too. Besides, do you really want readers ignoring or skipping any part of your story?

Look at how changing out the vanilla verb completely changes the meaning and feeling of even the simplest of sentences:

She skulked to the door.
She rushed to the door.
She flitted to the door.
She meandered to the door.

If you are having a problem coming up with a strong verb to replace a weaker one, look up the weak verb in a Thesaurus. Usually you can click around and find the perfect replacement!

So, how do you know when to show and when to tell? Primarily, this is left to personal preference. However, there are some general rules that got me started:

TELL:

• Back story
• Settings or landscape descriptions
• Mundane events that are informational only and aren’t meant to elicit an emotional response from the reader

SHOW:

• Any scene in your story
• Character interaction
• Action sequences
• Any event that you want the reader to be emotionally attached to

It’s probably important to also note that “show, don’t tell” isn’t 100% accurate. As you can see from the above list, you need a certain amount of telling in your story. Too much of anything will stand out to the reader and distract from the fantasy world you’re creating. It’s all about striking the proper balance.

Manuscripts as Drafts

First thing’s first: Happy New Year!

I know it’s been a while since posting an entry. I wish I could say that it was because I was engaged in heated negotiations with an agent or publisher, traveling the country making appearances at book signings, or prancing through the mall blowing a hefty royalty check faster than a skinny kid can be kicked off The Biggest Loser. Alas, I fear the reason behind my absence from this blog is far less interesting: life.

It’s been a busy, busy couple of months in the Allen household! Three of our four children have birthdays in December—all within a few days of each other! (It was several years before Mr. Allen finally figured out that he needed to actually buy a gift for Mrs. Allen on her birthday, which oddly enough is nine month before December.)

Then, of course, there are the holidays. Wonderful, joyous times of the year for the young and old, filled with magic, gifts, and wonder. Nothing warms your heart like watching a child open gifts on Christmas morning—even the ones who should have gotten the mythical lump of coal instead of a shiny red box with a bow. No, honey, it wasn’t an iPod…but a box of books is so much more suited to the level of effort you’ve put into the past year, wouldn’t you say?

Anyway, enough of the mundane holiday recap. Let’s dive into the wonderful world of writing!

During my holiday break from official blogging responsibilities, I was struck with a revelation. It’s something that seasoned writers know all too well—something that even this “newbie” knew on some level. Ready?

Manuscripts are drafts.

That statement is both simple and incredibly complex, depending on context. Sure, we revise. We edit. So, of course it’s a draft! But if you limit your scope to merely changing a few words around, you’re missing out on the opportunity to completely remake your project for the better.

What if your novel was written in third-person past tense and you realize it really should be told first-person? Maybe the first couple chapters are mundane back story that really doesn’t engage the reader or move the plot forward? Perhaps an important point of view character simply isn’t interesting enough, or doesn’t really deserve the same spotlight as your protagonist?

Many new writers—myself included—clutch our finished manuscripts so tightly that our knuckles turn white. If I’d have been approached four months ago and told that I needed to cut the first two chapters and rewrite chapter eight from the point of view of a secondary character, my eyes would have probably glazed over as I disappeared into my Happy Place.

The startling realization that manuscripts weren’t written in stone was thrust upon me (much against my will, I might add) as I struggled to find a way to cut 50,000 words from The Veil so I could submit it to a publisher with a very strict 100,000 word cap on submissions. If you’re like me, you’re already doing the math: that’s a third of my manuscript!

The funny thing is: seasoned authors from all walks of genre do this regularly. Some will actually throw away the first—and sometimes second—drafts before actually sitting down to do revisions. For them, it’s simply part of the creative process.

Nothing can prepare you for the inevitable panic attack resulting from wiping out entire chapters from your novel. Absolutely nothing. (Pro tip: make a back up first…it does help a little!) But the results are well worth the stress.

So far, the new manuscript is shaping up to be much tighter and more intense than the first time through. Knowing that the original iteration of the story was far too long is allowing me to moderate the level of detail and back story better. Plus this time around I know my characters even better than before and can add more personality and emotion.

Think of it like this: the first draft was practice…and we’ve all heard that practice makes perfect. Besides, who knows? With enough revision, next year’s box of books for the under-achieving child at Christmas could contain your novel!