Show, Don't Tell: What Does It Mean by Nannette Croce

"Show, don’t tell." It’s the mantra of every editor and writing instructor. But what the heck does it actually mean?

A friend of mine who had achieved success writing freelance articles didn’t do as well with her first novel. Every agent sent back a variation of the same theme, "too much telling and not enough showing." Finally, she spent six months completely revising and sent me the new draft. I was astounded when the story was still 80% telling and only 20% showing.

Was she being purposely perverse? Was she one of those writers who claimed to want feedback, but really intended to go her own way? Then I thought about how we editors throw that phrase around as though it were the most obvious thing in world. If this woman spent six months revising and still couldn’t get it right, maybe it isn’t so obvious as we think.

Why is show, don’t tell important?

First, you might wonder why "show, don’t tell" is so darned important. After all, fiction is stories and you tell stories, you don’t show stories. Besides, many stories from the 19th and early 20th century, still considered classics, do a lot of telling.

It’s true that older stories relied more on telling than contemporary ones, but once you know what to look for you’ll see that even those stories showed quite a bit as well. And styles change. Much of today’s literature is more character driven. Not only is it boring to be told everything about a character, it leaves the reader unengaged. Readers like the opportunity to form some of their own judgments about characters, instead of always being told what to think by the narrator.

What is showing anyway?

The best illustration of showing is real life.

Let’s take the example of Sally, who has worked in the cubicle next to yours for five years. At this point you feel you know a lot about her, but how did that happen? You probably didn’t ask Sally to tell you everything about herself (unless you were trying to pick her up at a bar), and even if Sally did tell you things, how much of it was reliable?

Most of what you really know about Sally, you picked up through observation.

Maybe Sally complains that her husband is controlling and always wants his own way, yet, from her end of their phone conversations, it sounds the other way around. She didn’t tell you about her tendency to over imbibe at social events. You learned that at the Christmas party. She never said she was bulimic, but you began to suspect when she spent so much time in the ladies room and stuffed her drawers with Hostess Twinkies.

Finding the Proper Balance

Using this approach should make it more obvious how to “show.” Just let your readers learn about Sally the same way you did, recreating conversations and scenes that provide insights into her personality.

Of course, you can’t show everything. A story that is all showing can be just as tedious as a story that is all telling. Readers would rather read a summary of things that happened before the story or novel began. Also, especially in short stories, some telling is necessary for brevity. So you need to find the right balance.

Example:
Sally was on the phone with her husband, whom she termed a “control freak.” [That’s telling.] She motioned for me to sit down.

“Why would you do it that way?” she demanded into her cellphone, “That doesn’t make a bit of sense.” [That’s showing.]


If you have trouble showing, practice with your own Sally (or Sam). Pick someone you know well and write different scenes that tell us important things about her personality. Then decide what is background material that can be summarized by “telling” and what requires the extra impact of “showing.”

Do this a few times and you’ll find the proper balance for “show, don’t tell.”

Nannette Croce is Co-Managing Editor at The Rose & Thorn. Her work has appeared in various online and print publications including The Rose & Thorn and The Philadelphia Inquirer. For samples of her work, visit her Web site .