3 Reasons Show, Don’t Tell Matters

From time to time, I see posts pop up across the writing internet denigrating that most basic rule of writing: Show, Don’t Tell.

Some people just love to rag on this long-standing bit of writing advice.

When I dive into these anti-Show, Don’t Tell posts, it looks to me like more of a matter of semantics. They don’t like the frame of Show, Don’t Tell. They think Objective vs Subjective is the better frame (I’m not totally sure how it’s all that different). Or they complain Show, Don’t Tell leads to excessive description (which, to my mind, is a different problem all together). Or they’re just reveling in a little writer rebellion.

So we’re on the same page, here’s a classic (and simplistic and not brilliantly written, but we’ll go with it) example Tell vs Show:

Telling: Tara was happy.

Showing: Tara’s eyes crinkled up as a bubble of laughter burst from her chest.

Some of the arguments that get leveled against Show, Don’t Tell: It just makes you write more words. It clutters up the page. It’s beating around the bush. It’s indulgent and indirect. It slows down the action.

There are two problems with these complaints. First, cluttering up the page and being indirect is not a sign that Show, Don’t Tell is bad advice. It’s a sign that the writer doesn’t yet understand how to properly execute Show, Don’t Tell on the page, leading to a lot of beating around the bush. And second, it  misunderstands the true value of Show, Don’t Tell as a storytelling tool.

Show, Don’t Tell is more than saying the same thing with more words. It’s the great Lady of Writing Advice for a reason. Well, for 3 reasons.

It Engages Readers

This is the most common reason writers are told to Show, not Tell. When you Show a reader how a character is feeling, you invite the reader to feel along with that character. You fire their imagination. And you allow them to come to a conclusion; in this case, that Tara is happy. Readers love it when they get to partner with the writer in this way. They feel fully engaged.

When you Tell readers what you want them to know or think, you are, in effect, pushing them out of the story. You’re not partnering with them, you’re not inviting them in, you’re not firing their imaginations. As a result, they’re sitting on the sidelines while you ‘talk’ at them. Readers only have so much patience for this.

Which is not to say there isn’t a place for Telling, but it’s best done with intention. Used sparingly, it can enhance the drama of a moment, or help you keep a fast-action scene moving when now is really not the time. The key word here is intention. Know when and why you’re choosing to Tell instead of Show, so you can use it with impact.

It Embodies Your Characters and Your Story World

Going back to our example with Tara, the Telling version is certainly clear and direct. It’s just three words – Tara and was and happy. Okay. We get it. But it’s rather cold and lifeless.

In the Showing version, Tara has eyes that crinkle and a chest that bubbles. She’s embodied on the page. She has physical presence; she’s not an abstraction. Showing her emotions through her physical reactions helps us relate to her, because we all know what it’s like to crinkle up our eyes or have a bubble of laughter burst from our chest. And when Tara feels real, the whole story world feels more tangible. It’s alive on the page.

As a developmental editor, it’s not unusual for me to read scenes, and sometimes entire manuscripts, that feel like they’re happening in a blank void. There are pages and pages of dialogue and action with little to no reference to a character’s physical presence or the physical setting of the story world. Aside from being tedious to read, these stories feel strangely disembodied. Almost like it’s not happening; it’s just words on a page. The characters and the stakes don’t resonate, because they’re not grounded in anything real.

If you want your readers grounded in your characters and your story world (and you do!), use the power of Show, Don’t Tell to get that physical presence on the page.

It Builds Trust Between the Writer and the Reader

This is probably Show, Don’t Tell’s most overlooked attribute: Readers believe what they’re shown more than what they’re told.

When you Show, you’re giving them the pieces of context they need to engage with the story. To construct it in their heads. When they see that character burst with laughter, they believe it. Because they see it. The evidence is right there on the page.

This lets you build trust with your readers. You create an experience where they can say, yes, I’m going along for this ride. I trust this writer will bring me somewhere interesting.

When you Tell what you want them to know or think, you don’t give the readers the pieces of context they need to engage with the story. You’re asking them to take your word for it. And that might work for a while, but if you consistently leave evidence off the page to back up what you’re Telling them, or there’s a mismatch between what you’re Telling them and what you’re Showing them, you’ll fail to build any trust with them and they’ll walk away.

Again, that’s not to say that there isn’t a place for Telling. Showing the readers one thing while Telling them something else can be is a great way to create an unreliable narrator. And again, the key here is intention. Make it a conscious choice, not an accident.

Use It Wisely

Show, Don’t Tell is not a blank check to write endless description (as I said, that’s a different problem requiring a different discussion). Nor does it mean you can’t write direct observation; sometimes you do just need to say it plain. And there are times where Telling packs a punch, but only when used sparingly.

What this long-standing writing rule is, is a tool. When used correctly, there’s a healthy balance between action and interiority and backstory on the page. It sweeps away vague language and brings dimension to otherwise flat prose. And it engages your readers.

Till next time…

Happy writing,

Erin