What It Means to Show, Not Tell

Show, don’t tell is a cardinal rule for writers, one of the (if not the) most popular pieces of advice writers come across. And it’s easy to understand why—showing is key to creating immersive, compelling stories that suck readers in.

As an editor, flagging portions of writing for telling instead of showing is a common occurrence. There’s no question that following this “rule” of writing is important, but how to actually do so isn’t as clear cut. What do showing and telling even mean? And how do we identify where we’ve gone wrong in our own writing?

What’s the Difference? 

Showing, not telling, is the difference between evocative, detailed, immersive writing that brings readers directly into the story and bland, lifeless writing that only gives readers the necessary basic information and goes no further.


Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.

-Anton Chekhov


Showing invites readers into a scene and allows them to experience it alongside characters. Setting, dialogue, characterization, body language, emotions, interior monologues, action, and description are all utilized to craft captivating scenes that earn an emotional response from readers and keep them engaged. 

Telling refers to when writers use exposition and summarize events and emotions, stating what happened or was felt but going no further. It’s blunt explanation.

Telling: The house had burned down. Looking at the pile of charred ruins, Addie wanted to cry but didn’t want anyone to see her getting so emotional.

Showing: Flecks of ash still floated around, the scent of scorched wood thick in the air. Addie’s throat and nostrils burned, her eyes watering as she stared at the place where the house used to stand. She coughed, wiping hastily at her eyes, hoping anyone who saw would think it was just the smoke making them stream.

Both of these examples tell readers that a house burned down and that Addie is upset about it, but one places readers in the moment alongside Addie and allows them to experience the ways Addie experiences the environment and her own emotions. The other example is bland and lacks the details that pull readers into the scene, keeping them at a distance and only sharing the basic information that defines the scene.

Think of it like this—telling is like reading the screenplay instead of watching the movie. 

You read the cues, you are told what happens, the story still unfolds…but nothing comes to life on the page like it will on the screen. You don’t feel like you’re in the story with the characters; it’s just words on a page giving you the cues and dialogue. 

What Showing Is Not

Showing is about detail, but it’s important to remember that showing does not equal over describing every element of a scene. It’s about delving deeper than surface-level words and bland statements allow and painting a picture for readers, giving them the information that will allow them to understand and draw the conclusions you want them to about characters and events. 

Do not dedicate whole paragraphs to describing the exact wood a table is carved from, the craftsman who made it, and the painstaking efforts he went through to get it just right if that information is not relevant to the scene. Do not describe how every piece of clothing feels on a character’s skin when she’s getting dressed. Keep the details you share relevant, and focus on what will bring the scene to life and help readers get to know characters better.

Don’t confuse swapping sentences like “She started to cry” for “She started to weep” and think that’s showing. Sure, “weep” is an impactful word and can be a good choice if it suits a scene, but it is still telling. Showing is not about swapping words for “better,” “stronger” words and calling it a day. While using more impactful words is an element of showing, it’s not all it is.

How Showing and Telling Impact Your Storytelling

Good books pull readers in, inspiring emotional reactions from them. When you pick up a thriller, you want to be thrilled. You want to feel the full impact of the mystery, the horror at the crimes, the creeping sense of unease and anticipation as the climax builds. When you pick up a romance novel, you want to fall in love with the love interest along with the main character, feel betrayed and devastated when he took a suspicious phone call with his ex, and feel relieved and silly when it’s revealed the call wasn’t with his ex but a jewelry store where he’d been ring shopping…gasp!

No matter the genre, readers want to read a story that they’re emotionally invested in with characters and events that feel real and believable. They want to be so immersed that your characters’ emotions could be their own. They want to be so wrapped up in the plot that they have an emotional stake in the events as they unfold. Not only do they want it, they expect it.

But you need to earn those reactions from readers. You need to earn their undivided attention, their emotional reactions, their interest in your story. Exclusively telling, not showing, will never accomplish that.

Telling means you’re stating things outright, giving readers conclusions instead of letting them come to them on their own. It cuts all depth, emotion, and nuance from your storytelling. It makes emotions basic and shallow, understood but unfelt by readers. Events unfold, but in the driest way imaginable.

Telling puts a barrier between readers and the story. By not delving into the elements of a story and aiming to have readers experience everything with the characters, you put distance between them, making the story something readers can never be fully immersed in. You put a limit on the readers’ capacity for enjoyment.

You’re boring your reader.

Showing creates an immersive, sensory reading experience. Not only does it make for better prose, but it adds depth to the story and characters. There’s nuance within the narrative, the characters, and the prose itself. Character personalities are revealed through showing, allowing readers to feel as if they truly know the character in a way that developed naturally and without you giving them a bland list of traits and characteristics that mean nothing when not actually shown. Showing lets readers get completely wrapped up in the plot. When you effectively show, readers care.

Telling readers a character wants to cry or blandly stating their emotions doesn’t actually give readers much to go on. Showing, however, can reveal more about character emotions, motivations, and all the things that remain unsaid.

Saying someone is mean doesn’t tell readers as much as you might think. What does that character’s version of mean entail? Why does Character A think Character B is mean? 

Telling: Johnny walked into the classroom looking smug. He was mean and nothing but a bully. Lily didn’t like him very much and just wished Mrs. Molten would come back. He made her nervous to be around. 

Showing: Lily stared down at her paper the second Johnny walked into the classroom. Maybe if she didn’t look at him he would leave her alone today. Her heart thudded as his footsteps got closer and his sneakers appeared next to her desk. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. Her stomach clenched as his steps stilled and he slapped a dirty hand over her paper, crumpling it up at the center. She knew if she looked up he’d be staring at her with his cruel smile, ready to make a fool out of her in front of the class again. Why couldn’t Mrs. Molten hurry back?

Now readers can come to the conclusion that Johnny is mean without the writer ever using the word and they get to experience Lily being nervous and feeling sick at having to deal with Johnny. From this one scene, readers understand that this is an ongoing problem for Lily and that Johnny is a bully—but it’s never stated outright. It’s demonstrated through his actions, Lily’s emotional reactions, and the physical manifestations of her emotions. 

This approach to writing and storytelling is imperative. Not only will telling bore readers, it will mark you as amateurish. 

Red Flags You’re Telling, Not Showing

Stating Conclusions

Stating conclusions is how most of telling can be summed up. You give readers the conclusion you want them to come to instead of giving them the pieces that describe those conclusions—emotions, setting descriptions, action, whatever it may be—indirectly and allow them to put two and two together for themselves.

“He was angry.”

“The sky was blue.” 

“I can’t stand Jim. I wish I didn’t have to work with him.” 

These statements are boring and flat. They don’t paint any picture in the readers mind or allow them to get to know characters in a meaningful way.

Basic Emotion Words

Emotion and reaction words like “surprised” or “sad” or “angry” tell readers how characters feel but do nothing to actually show readers the character feeling that way. They tell us the emotion, but not the way it feels or how it manifests in this character. Emotions look different in every person. Don’t rob your readers of the chance to get to know and understand your character by blandly telling them someone is sad. 

Avoid using these words and instead demonstrate the emotion to readers through action, dialogue, etc. 

Telling: Tommy was angry. He said, “This conversation is over.  You should’ve never opened your mouth about where the money came from,” as he got up and left.

Showing: Tommy pressed his lips in a thin line, eyes narrowing as they landed on Lisa. He stood and pushed his chair in, shoulders stiff as he straightened his tie and surveyed the restaurant for any eyes straying their way. “This conversation is over,” he said through his teeth. Bending close to her, he pointed a shaky but firm finger in her face. “You should’ve never opened your mouth about where the money came from.”

Shoving back from the table, Tommy slammed his hand on its surface, rattling the glasses of wine and catching the attention of nearby tables.  “This conversation is over,” he yelled. “You should’ve never opened your mouth about where the money came from,” he added, storming toward the door and slamming it on his way out. 

Notice how the two showing examples exemplify a very different Tommy. His anger looks completely different—one quiet and more controlled, one explosive and loud. This completely changes how readers will understand and think of Tommy, as well as the other characters around him. How emotions are expressed is a crucial element of creating characters readers understand and know. Telling readers someone was angry gives no glimpse into who they are. Don’t explain the emotion, show it!

In [Emotion Word] 

Similarly, using the word “in” followed by an emotion word is an indicator of telling: “He screamed in fear” or “She sighed in relief.” The “in [emotion]” is unnecessary. The action of screaming or sighing or whatever it may be should be enough, in the context, for readers to understand the meaning behind it. If it’s not, rewrite.

Summarizing

Summing up events is telling readers what happened in brief terms: “The man broke the vase, and Maya tried to fix it.” This is bland and hard to picture. How did he break it? How did he react when he broke it? Did he gasp? Was he angry? How did she fix it? What was her reaction? Was she irritated? 

You see how many questions bland summarizing can raise. It lacks detail and robs the reader of the chance to actually see the scene unfold, skimming over events.

Filter words

Filter words like “realized,” “felt,” and “saw” describe a character thinking or perceiving something. They tell readers what’s happening instead of letting them experience it firsthand alongside the character.

He felt the wind pick up and watched leaves scatter. vs. The wind picked up, sending leaves scattering across the empty road.

Adverbs

I’m not someone who thinks adverbs have absolutely no place in writing. Used sparingly, adverbs can have the desired impact and work just fine. Used too often, they’re a sign of weak writing and telling. 

Adverbs modify verbs, adjectives, or another adverb and tell readers how someone did something instead of showing us the manner in which they did it and allowing us to infer what we should know about the character/scene for ourselves. 

In many cases, you can remove the need for an adverb by being more specific and impactful with your word choice for the word the adverb is modifying. 

Lily ran quickly toward the soccer ball. vs. Lily streaked toward the soccer ball.

Adverbs can also be a sign of telling. You should be able to write sentences that convey the emotion you’re aiming for without using adverbs to explain that emotion or tone behind a sentence or action. 

Telling: “What did you do to my truck?” he asked angrily.

Showing: The man threw his hands in the air as he yelled, “What did you do to my truck?”

The second example demonstrates to readers clearly that this man is angry without ever having to use the word or adverb.

Some Tips for Showing 

First, avoid the aforementioned red flags.

Use Characters’ Senses

What do the characters see, smell, taste, hear, feel? Use those details to bring the scene to life, but remember to not filter those details through phrases like “she heard” or “he felt,” etc. 

Get Specific 

Using specific details doesn’t leave much room for telling. Flush out the scene with the details you want readers to be aware of. 

Body Language and Dialogue

Readers don’t want to be told your characters traits, they want to be shown them. Character actions, reactions, and dialogue are what will make your characters feel real to readers. These are what will reveal their personalities more than any simple, shallow description of them ever could.

Body language speaks volumes in real life. We don’t stand still and talk to each other—or do anything, really—with blank faces and our arms stiff at our sides. Don’t write your characters like that. Our facial expressions are especially crucial in illustrating our thoughts and reactions and give the people around us social cues. Use these to your advantage in your manuscript.

Show how characters feel to create an emotionally compelling story. 

Sometimes Telling Is Appropriate

The point of “show, don’t tell” that is sometimes left unmentioned is that telling isn’t always a problem. Too much telling is the issue.

Let’s be honest, a lot of really over-the-top, terrible writing comes from writers refusing to state something simply and instead dousing the reader with adjectives and clichés and ridiculous descriptions in an effort to never have a straightforward “telling” sentence.

A whole novel is never going to be comprised of solely showing.  A good writer knows how to balance showing and telling. Showing is what is necessary to craft an immersive, captivating reading experience, but in some cases telling can be the best choice.

Sometimes it’s okay to summarize or gloss over certain moments including:

  • Time jumps when nothing of importance or value happens (days or weeks pass, seasons change, etc.)
  • Traveling scenes
  • Events that aren’t important to show fully 
  • Relatively unimportant secondary characters
  • Scene transitions
  • Backstory

“Show, don’t tell” is an easy bit of writing advice to throw around, but, as with all pieces of seemingly straightforward writing tips, there’s more to it than a catchy phrase. Showing is incredibly important to writing great fiction. It’s what will create all emotional reaction in your reader; it’s what will keep them engaged. Too much of it, though, is a bad thing. 

While you want to mostly show and use telling sparingly, there is absolutely space for telling in fiction. It’s an important piece of the writing puzzle too but, like all things, needs to be properly balanced. 

Want help finding where you rely too much on telling or where your showing goes a little too far into description?

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