Show, Don’t Tell—Demystified: Turning Explanation into Experience

By

Olivia Salter

Most advice about writing says “show, don’t tell” like it’s a rule—something rigid, absolute, almost moral. As if “telling” is a mistake and “showing” is the correction.

It’s not that simple.

It’s not a rule.
It’s a tool—and like any tool, it only becomes powerful when you understand what it’s actually doing beneath the surface.

Because “show, don’t tell” is not about style. It’s about reader experience.

When writers misunderstand it, they try to eliminate all telling. Their prose becomes dense, overwritten, filled with unnecessary detail—every moment stretched, every emotion acted out in slow motion. The result isn’t immersive. It’s exhausting.

But when writers understand it, something shifts.

They realize that “showing” is not about adding more words—it’s about changing how information is delivered.

“Show, don’t tell” doesn’t mean removing all telling.
It means transforming information into lived experience.

It means taking something abstract—an emotion, a trait, a relationship dynamic—and rendering it in a way the reader can see, hear, feel, and interpret for themselves.

The difference is this:

• Telling informs the reader.
  It gives them the answer directly. It says: this is what this means.

• Showing makes the reader feel like they discovered it.
  It gives them the pieces and lets them assemble the meaning. It says: look at this—what do you think it means?

That shift—from receiving to discovering—is where the magic happens.

Because readers don’t emotionally connect to information.
They connect to involvement.

When you tell a reader:

He was heartbroken.

They understand it. Instantly. Cleanly. Completely.
But they don’t participate in it.

When you show them:

He scrolled to her name, stared at it, then locked his phone like it had burned him.

Now the reader has to engage. They have to interpret. They have to feel their way into the meaning.

And in doing so, the emotion becomes theirs—not just the character’s.

That’s the real function of showing:

It creates a gap between what is presented and what is understood—
and invites the reader to cross it.

That gap is where tension lives.
It’s where subtext breathes.
It’s where emotion takes root.

Because in fiction, discovery creates emotion.

Not because it’s clever.
Not because it’s subtle.
But because it mirrors how we experience real life.

In reality, no one tells us:

• “This person is dangerous.”
• “You’re falling in love.”
• “This moment will change you.”

We infer it—through behavior, tone, silence, contradiction.

We read between the lines.

And when fiction works, it recreates that process.

It doesn’t hand the reader meaning.

It lets them arrive at it.

That arrival—that moment when the reader realizes something instead of being told—is what lingers.

It’s the difference between:

“She didn’t trust him.”

and

She nodded as he spoke, smiling at all the right moments—
and quietly moved her bag closer to her chair.

One is information.

The other is experience.

And experience is what the reader remembers.

This guide breaks down the craft of "show, don't tell" into practical, usable strategies that will make your writing sharper, deeper, and more effective.

1. The Core Principle: Replace Labels with Evidence

Telling uses labels:

She was angry.
He was a good man.
The house was creepy.

Showing replaces those labels with observable evidence:

She crushed the paper in her fist, smoothing it out only to crumple it again.
He returned the wallet without counting the cash.
The house breathed—wood swelling, floors whispering under invisible steps.

Key Shift:

• Don’t name the emotion.
• Make the reader conclude it.

2. The Three Layers of Showing

Strong “showing” operates through three layers working together:

A. Physical Action (What the body does)

Emotion manifests physically.

• Anger → clenched jaw, sharp movements
• Fear → hesitation, stillness, shallow breath
• Love → lingering touch, softened posture

He said he was fine.
→ He nodded too quickly, already reaching for his keys.

B. Sensory Detail (What the world feels like)

The environment reflects or amplifies emotion.

• Sight, sound, smell, texture, taste

The room was tense.
→ The air felt too tight, like even the walls were holding their breath.

C. Subtext (What’s not being said)

Dialogue should rarely say exactly what characters feel.

“I don’t care.”
→ “Do whatever you want,” she said, watching him like the answer mattered.

Subtext creates friction between words and truth.

3. The Translation Method (Your Practical Tool)

When you catch yourself telling, use this:

Step 1: Identify the label

“He was nervous.”

Step 2: Ask:

• What does nervousness look like in this specific character?
• What do they do differently?

Step 3: Translate into behavior + detail

He checked his phone again, though the screen hadn’t lit up.

4. When Telling Is Better

Here’s what most guides don’t say:

Telling is not the enemy. Overuse is.

Use telling when:

• You need to compress time
• You want clarity over immersion
• The detail is not emotionally important

They argued for years.
(Efficient, and appropriate if the argument itself isn’t the focus.)

Rule of thumb:

• Show what matters emotionally
• Tell what bridges the gaps

5. The Danger of Over-Showing

Bad “showing” looks like this:

• Overwritten
• Slowed pacing
• Obvious symbolism

He slammed his fist on the table because he was angry.
(This is both showing and telling—and weak at both.)

Or worse:

His anger was like a volcano of fiery rage erupting…

That’s not showing. That’s decorated telling.

Good showing is precise, not dramatic.

6. Character-Specific Showing (The Advanced Move)

Not every character shows emotion the same way.

That’s where your writing becomes powerful.

Example: Same emotion, different expression

Anger:

• Character A:

  She raises her voice.

• Character B:

  He goes completely silent.

• Character C:

  She laughs—sharp, wrong, like breaking glass.

Showing becomes compelling when it reveals:

• Personality
• History
• Control (or lack of it)

7. Showing as Control of Distance

“Show vs tell” is really about narrative distance.

• Telling = far away (summary)
• Showing = close (immersion)

You control how close the reader feels.

She had always feared abandonment.
(Far)

He didn’t text back. By midnight, she had already decided he was gone.
(Close)

Great writing moves between both intentionally.

8. The Emotional Equation

At its core, showing works because:

Concrete detail + Reader inference = Emotional impact

When readers infer, they participate.
When they participate, they invest.
When they invest, they feel.

9. Quick Before & After Transformations

Telling:

He was heartbroken.

Showing:

He kept her number in his phone, even after he forgot what her voice sounded like.

Telling:

She didn’t trust him.

Showing:

She smiled when he spoke—but never set her drink down.

Telling:

He was a bad father.

Showing:

He knew his son’s birthday. Just not the year.

10. Final Truth: It’s Not About Showing More—It’s About Showing Right

“Show, don’t tell” isn’t about writing more words.

It’s about writing the right details—the ones that:

• Reveal truth
• Carry emotion
• Let the reader arrive instead of being told

Because the strongest stories don’t say:

This is what happened.

They make the reader feel:

I was there.

Targeted Writing Exercises

1. Label Elimination Drill

Write 5 sentences that tell emotion:

• Angry
• Jealous
• Afraid
• In love
• Guilty

Now rewrite each without naming the emotion.

2. Body Language Focus

Write a scene where:

• A character lies
• Another character knows they’re lying

No one is allowed to say it directly.

3. Environment as Emotion

Write a setting (kitchen, street, bedroom) in two ways:

1. From a character in love
2. From a character grieving

Same place. Different perception.

4. Subtext Dialogue Exercise

Write a conversation where:

• One character wants to leave
• The other wants them to stay

Neither character can mention leaving or staying.

5. Compression vs Expansion

Write:

• One paragraph telling a breakup
• One scene showing the exact moment it happens

Study the difference in emotional weight.

6. Character-Specific Reaction

Pick one emotion (fear, anger, love).

Write how three different characters express it:

• One external (loud, reactive)
• One internal (quiet, restrained)
• One unexpected (contradictory behavior)

Closing Thought

“Show, don’t tell” isn’t about avoiding explanation.

It’s about trusting the reader enough to let them feel the truth without being handed it.

Because in fiction, the most powerful moment isn’t when the writer explains—

It’s when the reader realizes.

Advanced Exercises: Mastering “Show, Don’t Tell” Through Practice

These exercises are designed to push you past surface-level understanding and into intentional control of showing vs. telling. Each one targets a specific skill you’ll actually use when writing fiction.

1. The Evidence Chain Exercise

Goal: Learn how to build emotion through layered detail.

Step 1: Start with a telling sentence:

“She was afraid.”

Step 2: Expand it into three lines, each adding a different type of evidence:

1. Physical reaction
2. Environmental detail
3. Behavior/decision

Example structure:

• Body: What does fear do to her physically?
• World: How does the setting feel different because of her fear?
• Choice: What does she do because she’s afraid?

Challenge: Do this for 5 different emotions without repeating the same types of details.

2. The “Invisible Emotion” Scene

Goal: Show emotion without ever naming it—even once.

Prompt: Write a 300–500 word scene where a character experiences one of the following:

• Grief
• Jealousy
• Shame
• Obsession

Rules:

• You cannot use the emotion word or obvious synonyms
• No internal thoughts explaining the feeling
• Only action, dialogue, and sensory detail

Focus: Let the reader diagnose the emotion.

3. The Subtext Rewrite Drill

Goal: Strengthen dialogue by removing direct meaning.

Step 1: Write this plainly (telling):

“I’m upset you forgot my birthday.”

Step 2: Rewrite it as dialogue where:

• The character never mentions the birthday
• The emotion is still clear
• The tension is stronger than the original

Push Further: Write the same moment:

• Once with sarcasm
• Once with silence/minimal dialogue
• Once with misplaced humor

4. The Contradiction Exercise

Goal: Create complexity by separating feeling and behavior.

Prompt: Write a scene where a character:

• Feels one emotion
• Displays the opposite

Examples:

• They’re heartbroken but act cheerful
• They’re furious but speak gently
• They’re afraid but move closer to danger

Focus: Use small details to let the truth leak through the performance.

5. The Object Anchor Exercise

Goal: Use objects as emotional shorthand.

Step 1: Choose an object:

• A cracked phone
• A set of keys
• A photograph
• A coffee mug

Step 2: Write a scene where the object represents:

• A fear
• A desire
• A memory

Rule: Never explain the meaning of the object.

Advanced Challenge: Let the meaning of the object change by the end of the scene.

6. The Distance Control Exercise

Goal: Practice shifting between showing and telling intentionally.

Prompt: Write about a relationship falling apart in three versions:

Version A — Fully Told (distant)

Summarize the entire relationship in one paragraph.

Version B — Mixed Distance

Combine summary with a few key “shown” moments.

Version C — Fully Shown (close)

Write a single, vivid scene where the relationship breaks.

Reflection: Notice how:

• Telling controls pace
• Showing controls emotional impact

7. The Specificity Challenge

Goal: Replace vague showing with precise, character-driven detail.

Weak Showing:

He was nervous, tapping his foot.

Your Task: Rewrite this 5 different ways, each revealing a different type of person:

• A perfectionist
• A liar
• Someone hiding guilt
• Someone in love
• Someone in danger

Focus: Behavior should reflect who they are, not just what they feel.

8. The Sensory Limitation Exercise

Goal: Strengthen immersive detail by limiting your tools.

Prompt: Write a tense scene using only:

• Sound + touch (no visuals)

Then rewrite the same scene using only:

• Sight (no other senses)

Focus: Learn how each sense changes the emotional texture of a scene.

9. The Before-and-After Transformation

Goal: Train your instinct to catch and fix “telling.”

Step 1: Write a paragraph full of telling:

“He was angry. He didn’t trust her. The room felt uncomfortable.”

Step 2: Rewrite it entirely as showing.

Step 3 (Advanced): Cut 30% of your rewritten version—make it tighter without losing meaning.

10. The Reader Inference Test

Goal: Measure whether your “showing” actually works.

Step 1: Write a short scene (200–300 words) showing a clear emotional situation.

Step 2: Ask:

• What should the reader feel here?
• What should they understand about the character?

Step 3: Remove any lines that explain those answers.

Final Check: If the meaning still comes through—you’ve succeeded.

If not—you need stronger, clearer details.

11. The Silence Exercise (Advanced)

Goal: Use absence as a form of showing.

Prompt: Write a scene where:

• A major emotional truth is never spoken
• The most important moment is what doesn’t happen

Examples:

• A character doesn’t say “I love you”
• Someone chooses not to stay
• A message is typed… then deleted

Focus: Let restraint carry emotional weight.

12. The “Too Much” Revision Drill

Goal: Fix overwritten showing.

Step 1: Write an overly dramatic paragraph full of:

• Metaphors
• Intense descriptions
• Repeated emotional cues

Step 2: Cut it down by 50%.

Step 3: Keep only:

• The most specific
• The most revealing
• The most necessary details

Lesson: Strong showing is controlled, not excessive.

Final Practice Strategy

Don’t just do these exercises—cycle them:

1. Write (instinctively)
2. Identify telling
3. Translate into showing
4. Cut excess
5. Refine for specificity

That cycle is where real skill develops.

Closing Thought

You don’t master “show, don’t tell” by avoiding telling.

That approach leads to hesitation, overthinking, and prose that feels strained—like the writer is constantly checking themselves instead of expressing something. You start second-guessing every sentence. You overwrite simple moments. You confuse complexity with depth.

That’s not mastery. That’s fear disguised as technique.

You master it by learning control.

Control over what the reader sees.
Control over what they don’t.
Control over how meaning unfolds across time.

Because strong writing isn’t about choosing between showing and telling—it’s about knowing when to reveal, when to imply, and when to stay silent.

When to Reveal

Revealing is clarity. It’s when you let the reader know something directly.

You reveal when:

• The reader needs grounding
• The pacing demands efficiency
• The emotional moment has already landed, and now it needs context

Revelation prevents confusion. It stabilizes the narrative.

But here’s the key:
Reveal after the impact—not instead of it.

He laughed, but it sounded wrong—thin, forced.
He had been pretending for months.

The first line creates the feeling.
The second line clarifies it.

That order matters.

When to Imply

Implication is where most of your emotional power lives.

It’s the art of suggestion without confirmation.

You imply when:

• The emotion is complex or contradictory
• The character doesn’t fully understand themselves
• You want the reader to lean in, to question, to interpret

Implication invites participation.

“I’m happy for you,” she said, smoothing the same wrinkle in her sleeve again and again.

Nothing is stated outright.
But everything is there.

Implication works because it respects the reader’s intelligence. It says:
You can see this. I don’t need to explain it.

And when readers feel trusted, they engage more deeply.

When to Stay Silent

Silence is the most underused—and most powerful—form of showing.

It’s what you choose not to say.

You stay silent when:

• The moment is emotionally heavy enough to stand on its own
• Explanation would weaken the impact
• The absence of words says more than any sentence could

He typed the message.
Read it twice.
Deleted it.

No explanation. No commentary.

And yet the reader feels:

• hesitation
• regret
• fear
• restraint

Silence creates space—and in that space, the reader fills in the truth.

The Balance Between Them

Most developing writers lean too hard in one direction:

• Too much revealing → the story feels flat, over-explained
• Too much implying → the story feels vague, inaccessible
• Too much silence → the story feels empty or confusing

Mastery is not choosing one.

It’s orchestrating all three.

Think of it like this:

• Reveal anchors the reader
• Imply engages the reader
• Silence haunts the reader

Used together, they create rhythm.

A scene might:

1. Show behavior (imply)
2. Let a moment linger (silence)
3. Then offer a line of clarity (reveal)

That movement is what makes writing feel alive.

Why This Matters More Than Technique

Because the goal isn’t just better writing.

It’s not about impressing the reader with craft or subtlety.

It’s about creating a specific kind of experience:

Writing that makes the reader feel something before they understand why.

That order—feeling first, understanding second—is everything.

When readers understand first, they analyze.
When they feel first, they connect.

And connection is what lingers.

It’s what makes a line echo after the page is turned.
It’s what makes a character feel real.
It’s what makes a story stay with someone long after they’ve finished it.

The Final Shift

So the question isn’t:

“Am I showing or telling?”

The real question is:

“What does the reader need to feel right now—and how do I deliver that in the most powerful way?”

Sometimes that’s a precise detail.
Sometimes it’s a quiet implication.
Sometimes it’s a line you choose not to write at all.

Because in the end, mastery isn’t about following advice.

It’s about making deliberate choices—and trusting the reader enough to meet you in them.

Also see:

• Writing Guides on Show, Don't Tell

The Folded Letter: Mastering the Art of Showing, Not Telling in Fiction

The Folded Letter: Mastering the Art of Showing, Not Telling in Fiction

By Olivia Salter

“Don’t tell me her heart was broken; show me the way she folds the letter, slow and trembling, as if sealing the hurt inside forever.”

Fiction lives and breathes through what it reveals without directly stating. The difference between telling and showing is often the difference between a flat page and one that pulses with emotion. To tell is to inform the reader; to show is to invite them to feel. The reader doesn’t just watch the story unfold—they experience it through sensory detail, gesture, silence, and subtext.

The Power of Suggestion

When writers tell, they rely on summary: “She was sad.” It’s quick, efficient, but emotionally distant. When writers show, they create scenes that awaken empathy: “She traced his name with her fingertip until the ink blurred.” That simple action carries weight—it gives readers a window into emotion without naming it. Readers become detectives of the heart, gathering meaning from behavior, tone, and imagery.

Showing also respects the reader’s intelligence. It trusts that they can feel the ache without being spoon-fed the sentiment. It’s the art of restraint—leaving space for imagination. A trembling hand says more than an entire paragraph on heartbreak. A forced laugh can echo louder than a scream.

The Language of the Body and the Unspoken

Human emotion often hides in the physical. The way a character moves, looks away, or pauses mid-sentence reveals volumes. In fiction, these moments are gold. Consider dialogue—what a character doesn’t say can be more revealing than what they do. Subtext is where truth lives. When a character insists, “I’m fine,” but grips the edge of the table, the reader knows better.

Silence, too, is a form of showing. A conversation that stops short, an unanswered text, or a dinner table gone quiet—these are emotional landscapes. They show tension, longing, or resentment more effectively than a narrator’s explanation ever could.

The Sensory Thread

Showing thrives in sensory detail. Smell, touch, taste, sound, and sight are the writer’s palette. The musty scent of an old coat can carry nostalgia; the metallic tang of blood can signal fear or violence. These details transport readers directly into the scene, engaging not just their minds but their bodies.

Instead of saying, “He was nervous,” write, “His shirt clung damp against his back.” Rather than, “She loved him,” try, “She memorized the pattern of freckles on his wrist like a map she never wanted to lose.” The difference is intimacy—the reader doesn’t just know what the character feels; they feel it too.

Balancing Show and Tell

Even so, showing everything can exhaust both writer and reader. The key is balance. Sometimes a moment calls for summary—a transition, a passing event, or a character reflection. Telling can anchor the pacing or provide clarity. The trick is to use it sparingly, like punctuation between emotional beats.

When the heart of a story is at stake—conflict, revelation, transformation—show. When connecting scenes or providing background—tell. Think of telling as the frame, and showing as the painting itself.

The Folded Letter Revisited

The quote that began this piece is a reminder that fiction’s beauty lies not in what’s declared, but in what’s felt between the lines. “Don’t tell me her heart was broken—show me the way she folds the letter, slow and trembling, as if sealing the hurt inside forever.” In that moment, the heartbreak isn’t just described—it’s witnessed. The act becomes metaphor. The physical gesture becomes emotional truth.

That’s the essence of great storytelling: transforming emotion into action, thought into image, and pain into poetry. Showing turns readers from observers into participants. It lets them live inside the story’s pulse.

When you write, don’t chase description—chase feeling. Let your characters reveal themselves in what they do, what they fail to say, and what they can’t bear to let go.

That’s where fiction stops being words—and becomes life.

Show, Don’t Tell: Revealing Character Through Action

 

Show, Don’t Tell: Revealing Character Through Action

By Olivia Salter

Anton Chekhov, one of the greatest short story writers, famously advised, “Be sure not to discuss your hero’s state of mind. Make it clear from his actions.” This principle is a cornerstone of effective storytelling, emphasizing the power of action over exposition. Rather than telling readers what a character feels, great writers show emotions through movement, dialogue, and choices.

The Power of Action in Storytelling

Readers connect with characters not by being told what they think, but by witnessing their struggles, reactions, and decisions. When a character clenches their fists, avoids eye contact, or hesitates before speaking, we infer nervousness, anger, or guilt. This technique engages readers, making them active participants in the story rather than passive recipients of information.

For example, instead of writing, Sarah was furious, a more compelling approach would be:

"Sarah slammed the door so hard the windows rattled. She paced the room, her hands shaking as she muttered under her breath."

Here, Sarah’s anger is not stated outright but felt through her actions. The reader experiences her emotions viscerally, rather than being told what she feels.

Trusting the Reader

Chekhov’s advice also highlights an important truth: readers are intelligent. When writers spell out a character’s emotions too explicitly, it can feel heavy-handed or patronizing. Subtlety allows readers to interpret emotions in a way that feels personal and immersive.

Consider this:

"Marcus sat in the corner of the café, his eyes fixed on the cup in front of him. He hadn’t touched his coffee in twenty minutes. When the waiter asked if he wanted a refill, he only shook his head, offering a tight smile before returning to his silence."

Without ever stating that Marcus is deep in thought, sad, or distracted, his behavior tells us everything. The reader senses his emotions without needing direct explanation.

Crafting Realistic Characters

Real people don’t constantly articulate their emotions, and well-written characters shouldn’t either. If a protagonist continuously narrates their thoughts and feelings, they risk sounding unnatural. Instead, their actions should reveal their internal world organically.

In dialogue, for example, instead of a character saying, "I'm nervous about the interview," they might:

• Fidget with their pen
• Repeatedly check the time
• Speak in clipped, hesitant sentences

These small but telling details bring authenticity to the scene, allowing readers to feel the character’s anxiety rather than being told about it.

Applying Chekhov’s Principle

To implement this technique in writing:

1. Replace Telling with Showing – Instead of stating emotions, describe body language, actions, and sensory details.
2. Use Subtext in Dialogue – What characters don’t say can be as revealing as what they do say.
3. Let Actions Speak – How a character responds to a situation reveals their emotions and personality better than internal monologues.
4. Engage the Senses – Show emotions through a character’s physical sensations (a lump in the throat, a racing heartbeat) rather than just thoughts.

The Impact on Reader Engagement

When writers rely on action rather than exposition, they pull readers deeper into the story. This technique encourages engagement because readers must interpret the characters’ emotions themselves, making the reading experience more interactive.

Consider the difference between these two passages:

1. Ella was heartbroken when she read the letter. Tears streamed down her face as she thought about how much she had lost.
2. Ella’s hands trembled as she unfolded the letter. Her eyes flicked over the words once, twice. She pressed a palm to her chest, as if to steady something inside her, then crumpled the paper into a tight ball and let it fall to the floor.

The second passage allows the reader to feel Ella’s heartbreak without the writer ever stating it directly. Her actions—trembling hands, rereading the letter, pressing her chest—convey her pain more powerfully than an outright declaration.

By using this approach, a writer fosters a deeper emotional connection between the reader and the character. The audience becomes an active participant, piecing together emotions based on behavior rather than simply absorbing explanations.

Examples from Literature

Many of the greatest authors have mastered this technique. Consider Ernest Hemingway’s Hills Like White Elephants, where an entire conversation about an unspoken topic (an abortion) is carried through subtext and body language. The man and woman never explicitly state what’s happening, but their dialogue, silences, and shifting tones make the situation clear.

Toni Morrison’s Beloved provides another example. Instead of directly stating Sethe’s trauma, Morrison lets readers feel it through Sethe’s fragmented thoughts, her quiet acts of resistance, and her complex relationship with her past.

In To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee conveys Atticus Finch’s quiet strength not by having him boast about his principles, but through his calm demeanor, his refusal to retaliate when insulted, and the way he defends Tom Robinson despite community backlash.

Avoiding Common Pitfalls

Writers learning to apply Chekhov’s advice may initially struggle with striking the right balance. Here are some common pitfalls to avoid:

1. Over-explaining the Action

While showing is essential, overly detailed actions can become tedious. For example:

"John furrowed his brows, tightened his jaw, clenched his fists, and exhaled sharply through his nose as he slammed his hands onto the table."

This is excessive. A simple "John slammed his hands on the table" conveys the same anger without unnecessary embellishment.

2. Ignoring Internal Thoughts Entirely

Some writers misinterpret Chekhov’s advice as a ban on internal thoughts, but internal monologue can still be powerful if used strategically. The key is to pair internal reflection with action:

Her throat tightened. She wanted to scream, but instead, she simply nodded. No one needed to know how much this hurt.

Here, internal emotion complements the character’s restrained action, creating a layered effect.

3. Forgetting That Not All Actions Carry the Same Weight

Not every moment needs to be dramatized through action. If a character is simply deciding what to eat for lunch, an elaborate description of their indecision isn’t necessary. Save these techniques for emotionally significant moments.

Exercises to Practice "Show, Don’t Tell"

1. Emotion Rewrite: Take a sentence that tells an emotion (e.g., She was nervous about her speech) and rewrite it using actions and sensory details.
2. Silent Scene: Write a scene with two characters having a conversation, but one of them is holding back an important emotion. Use body language and dialogue subtext to show what they’re feeling without explicitly stating it.
3. Observation Practice: Watch people in public spaces. Notice how they show emotions without words. A person checking their phone repeatedly, tapping their foot, or crossing their arms might be anxious, impatient, or defensive. Translate these observations into fiction.

In conclusion, Anton Chekhov’s advice—"Be sure not to discuss your hero’s state of mind. Make it clear from his actions"—is a timeless guideline for powerful storytelling. By revealing emotions through action, dialogue, and subtext, writers create immersive experiences that engage readers on a deeper level.

Instead of telling your audience what a character feels, let them see it. The result will be stories that resonate, linger, and feel true to life—because, after all, in real life, emotions are rarely spoken. They are shown.

By following Chekhov’s advice, writers create richer, more immersive stories where readers feel deeply connected to the characters. After all, fiction is not just about telling a story—it’s about making readers live it.

Writing Craft: The Five Tools for Showing

The Five Tools for Showing

 

By Randy Ingermanson 

 

Your job as a novelist is very simple: to create a movie inside your reader’s head.

Not a picture. Not a sound bite. Not a word salad.

A movie. Inside your reader’s head.

Do that, and you win.

When editors tell you to “show, don’t tell,” what they really mean is to create that movie in your reader’s head.

You have five tools for showing that movie. That’s all. Just five. Master those five tools, and you’re far along the road to novelist nirvana. Here they are:

• Action
• Dialogue
• Interior Monologue
• Interior Emotion
• Sensory Description

Action

Action is a person or an animal or a robot or an angel or any other sentient being doing something. Some examples:

• Hermione jumped on her broomstick and raced after Malfoy.
• Michael Corleone pointed his gun at the head of the police captain and squeezed the trigger.
• C3PO pressed its fingers into the wall socket, tripping the circuit breaker and plunging the room into darkness.

Dialogue

Dialogue is a person or an animal or a robot or an angel or any other sentient being saying something. Some examples:

• “You are the last man I could ever be prevailed upon to marry,” said Elizabeth Bennet.
• “Hasta la vista, baby,” said the Terminator.
• “These are not the droids you’re looking for,” said Obi-wan Kenobi.

Interior Monologue

Interior monologue is a person or an animal or a robot or an angel or any other sentient being thinking something. Some examples:

• I’ve got to catch that bottle of nitro before it hits the floor.
• Bad news. He loves me and he loves me not.
• It’s not enough to win this fight just for today. I need to win the fight for all time.

Interior Emotion

Interior emotion is a person or an animal or a robot or an angel or any other sentient being feeling emotion.

This is more complicated than the other tools, so we need to clarify a few points before giving an example. You don’t need to name the emotion. If you name the emotion, you aren’t showing it, you’re telling it. If you want to show the emotion, you show the character’s physiological response to the emotion, and the reader figures out the emotion and may well feel it right along with the characters.

Note that physiological responses are ambiguous. They are usually not enough to pin down the exact emotion. The reader also needs context. But once you’ve given them the right context, showing them the character’s physiological response will make them feel the emotion.

I’ll give just one example. You can easily imagine different contexts in which this physiological response might signal anger, fear, horror, or possibly other emotions:

• Luke’s face burned, but the inside of his stomach was icy cold.

Sensory Description

Sensory description is showing the environment in a way that appeals to the senses. Some examples:

• The dorm room smelled of peanut butter and dirty socks.
• Neon lights flashed red and blue and green.
• Thunder smashed outside the house. Rain pounded on the roof.

Mix and Match

You have five tools for showing your reader your story. You can mix and match them any way you like. Any paragraph you write can use any combination of these five tools. That gives you endless variety for showing your story.

There are other tools for telling your story—narrative summary and exposition are the most common. You may be asking if it’s okay to use these tools.

Of course it is! These can be powerful tools, used in the right way, at the right time in your story. It’s not possible to spend 100% of your story showing, with no telling at all. Telling gets your reader quickly and efficiently through the boring parts of the story. Showing takes your reader slowly and immersively through the exciting parts of the story.

As a novelist, you get to decide what percentage of your story to show and what percentage to tell. A modern high-octane thriller might spend 98% of the story in showing and only 2% in telling. A slower-paced, more reflective novel might spend only 60% showing and 40% telling.

Just don’t fool yourself. If you intended to show your reader mostly movie, but you wound up breaking into the movie in every paragraph to tell your reader interesting footnotes, then you didn’t do what you intended. You should at least know you’re doing that.

Homework

Look at the most recent scene you wrote for your novel. Highlight every word in the scene that is not action, dialogue, interior monologue, interior emotion, or sensory description. The parts that are not highlighted are the movie you’re creating in your reader’s head. The parts that are highlighted are the interruptions to the movie. Are you surprised how many interruptions you’ve got in your movie? Or is the proportion about right?

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About The Author

Randy Ingermanson is a theoretical physicist and the award-winning author of six novels. He has taught at numerous writing conferences over the years and publishes the free monthly Advanced Fiction Writing E-zine.

 

 Randy Ingermanson Books at Amazon

Writing Quote: Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. --Mark Twain

 

 

Crafting Compelling Narratives: The Art of Pace and Prosody in Writing

 

by Olivia Salter

Mark Twain once famously said, "Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream." This quote embodies the essence of good storytelling—showing rather than telling. It emphasizes the importance of immersing readers in the narrative, allowing them to experience the story firsthand.

In writing, pace and prosody play a crucial role in captivating the audience and drawing them further into the story. Pace refers to the speed at which events unfold in a narrative, while prosody involves the rhythm, stress, and intonation of language. By mastering these elements, writers can create a dynamic and engaging reading experience that resonates with their audience.

One way to enhance pace in writing is to vary the speed at which events are presented. Short, snappy sentences can quicken the tempo and create a sense of urgency, while longer, descriptive passages can slow things down, allowing readers to savor the moment. By carefully orchestrating the pace of a story, writers can build tension, evoke emotions, and keep readers on the edge of their seats.

Prosody, on the other hand, involves the musicality of language. Just as a skilled musician uses rhythm and melody to create a symphony, a writer can use prosody to infuse their words with emotion and drama. By paying attention to the flow of sentences, the cadence of dialogue, and the placement of pauses, writers can give their writing a natural, fluid quality that captures the reader's attention.

Ultimately, pace and prosody are tools that writers can use to craft a compelling and immersive narrative. By striking the right balance between the two, authors can create a story that not only entertains but also resonates with readers on a deeper level. So the next time you sit down to write, remember Mark Twain's advice: don't just tell your readers what happened; show them, and let the story unfold before their eyes. 

About the Author of the Quote

Samuel Langhorne Clemens (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910), known by the pen name Mark Twain, was an American writer, humorist, essayist, entrepreneur, publisher, and lecturer. He was praised as the "greatest humorist the United States has produced", and William Faulkner called him "the father of American literature". His novels include The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876) and its sequel, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884) with the latter often called the "Great American Novel". Twain also wrote A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889) and Pudd'nhead Wilson (1894), and co-wrote The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today (1873) with Charles Dudley Warner. Wikipedia

Also see:

• Mark Twain at Amazon
• Writing Books Index

The Five Tools for Showing by Randy Ingermanson | Advanced Fiction Writing

 

The Five Tools for Showing

 

by Randy Ingermanson 

 

Advanced Fiction Writing

 

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Your job as a novelist is very simple: to create a movie inside your reader’s head.

Not a picture. Not a sound bite. Not a word salad.

A movie. Inside your reader’s head.

Do that, and you win.

When editors tell you to “show, don’t tell,” what they really mean is to create that movie in your reader’s head.

You have five tools for showing that movie. That’s all. Just five. Master those five tools, and you’re far along the road to novelist nirvana. Here they are:

• Action
• Dialogue
• Interior Monologue
• Interior Emotion
• Sensory Description

Action

Action is a person or an animal or a robot or an angel or any other sentient being doing something. Some examples:

• Hermione jumped on her broomstick and raced after Malfoy.
• Michael Corleone pointed his gun at the head of the police captain and squeezed the trigger.
• C3PO pressed its fingers into the wall socket, tripping the circuit breaker and plunging the room into darkness.

Dialogue

Dialogue is a person or an animal or a robot or an angel or any other sentient being saying something. Some examples:

• “You are the last man I could ever be prevailed upon to marry,” said Elizabeth Bennet.
• “Hasta la vista, baby,” said the Terminator.
• “These are not the droids you’re looking for,” said Obi-wan Kenobi.

Interior Monologue

Interior monologue is a person or an animal or a robot or an angel or any other sentient being thinking something. Some examples:

• I’ve got to catch that bottle of nitro before it hits the floor.
• Bad news. He loves me and he loves me not.
• It’s not enough to win this fight just for today. I need to win the fight for all time.

Interior Emotion

Interior emotion is a person or an animal or a robot or an angel or any other sentient being feeling emotion.

This is more complicated than the other tools, so we need to clarify a few points before giving an example. You don’t need to name the emotion. If you name the emotion, you aren’t showing it, you’re telling it. If you want to show the emotion, you show the character’s physiological response to the emotion, and the reader figures out the emotion and may well feel it right along with the characters.

Note that physiological responses are ambiguous. They are usually not enough to pin down the exact emotion. The reader also needs context. But once you’ve given them the right context, showing them the character’s physiological response will make them feel the emotion.

I’ll give just one example. You can easily imagine different contexts in which this physiological response might signal anger, fear, horror, or possibly other emotions:

• Luke’s face burned, but the inside of his stomach was icy cold.

Sensory Description

Sensory description is showing the environment in a way that appeals to the senses. Some examples:

• The dorm room smelled of peanut butter and dirty socks.
• Neon lights flashed red and blue and green.
• Thunder smashed outside the house. Rain pounded on the roof.

Mix and Match

You have five tools for showing your reader your story. You can mix and match them any way you like. Any paragraph you write can use any combination of these five tools. That gives you endless variety for showing your story.

There are other tools for telling your story—narrative summary and exposition are the most common. You may be asking if it’s okay to use these tools.

Of course it is! These can be powerful tools, used in the right way, at the right time in your story. It’s not possible to spend 100% of your story showing, with no telling at all. Telling gets your reader quickly and efficiently through the boring parts of the story. Showing takes your reader slowly and immersively through the exciting parts of the story.

As a novelist, you get to decide what percentage of your story to show and what percentage to tell. A modern high-octane thriller might spend 98% of the story in showing and only 2% in telling. A slower-paced, more reflective novel might spend only 60% showing and 40% telling.

Just don’t fool yourself. If you intended to show your reader mostly movie, but you wound up breaking into the movie in every paragraph to tell your reader interesting footnotes, then you didn’t do what you intended. You should at least know you’re doing that.

Homework

Look at the most recent scene you wrote for your novel. Highlight every word in the scene that is not action, dialogue, interior monologue, interior emotion, or sensory description. The parts that are not highlighted are the movie you’re creating in your reader’s head. The parts that are highlighted are the interruptions to the movie. Are you surprised how many interruptions you’ve got in your movie? Or is the proportion about right?

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About The Author

Randy Ingermanson is a theoretical physicist and the award-winning author of six novels. He has taught at numerous writing conferences over the years and publishes the free monthly Advanced Fiction Writing E-zine.

 

 Randy Ingermanson Books at Amazon

 

More Advanced Fiction Writing

The First Rule of Writing: Show, Don’t Tell for the Novice Writer

 

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

 – Anton Chekhov

 
“Show, Don’t Tell” is an important rule when it comes to writing your story, it is the magic technique that breathes life and energy into any story.

The single best piece of advice you can receive to become a good writer is “Don’t tell me, show me.” Don’t tell me the character is angry; show me that the character is angry. Don’t tell me that the character had a good time at the party; show me how the character had a good time. This is The First Rule of Writing.

Telling sentences tell us something. They give information but it is general, non‐specific, and often vague. They don’t involve the reader. Telling sentences are written in a dull and lifeless manner. You leave out the action, emotion, and sensory detail — all the vital ingredients that make the reader believe in your story. “Telling” is a way of communicating facts to the reader — the wrong way. The right way is to “show” information through the use of action, dialogue, and the five senses. (If you’re still confused, please read on and let me “show” you what I mean.)

Imagine yourself in a darkened movie theater. All of a sudden the screen goes black and you can hear only the sound track — the dialogue and a few sound effects. How frustrated you’d be! If the technician didn’t get the projector fixed fast, you’d get bored and leave. The same is true for writing. If you fail to make the reader see your story, she’ll lose interest, put down the book, and never pick it up again. If that reader happens to be the editor to whom you’ve submitted your manuscript, then you’ve lost a sale.

Showing sentences show us — they describe the scenes and actions; they help us see by using clear, specific details to create clear, strong pictures in our minds. Showing sentences dramatize the events of your plot. The reader experiences the story as if he’s right there, participating in the story. In his imagination, he becomes the character. A showing sentence has a different “sound” and “feeling” when you read it.

Look at the following examples: 

1) First Example
Telling sentence: Jack was afraid.

Showing sentence: As the footsteps tapped closer and closer, Jack felt his stomach muscles tighten. He flattened himself to the wall, the gritty bricks against his cheek. Sweat chilled his palms. He used both hands to steady the gun.

Telling Sentences Give Information

Notice in the “telling” sentence, we’re given information, but in a way that doesn’t involve us in any scene. It’s as if we’re sitting in that movie theater, staring at a black screen and growing increasingly annoyed by our inability to see what’s happening.

In the “showing” sentence, however, we live through the scene along with Jack. We hear the tap of footsteps. We feel the tension in his stomach, the cold dampness of his hands, and the grittiness of the brick. We see the gun in his shaking hands. We live his fear, rather than merely being told of it.

And along the way, something miraculous happens: Jack becomes a real person. Even if he’s the bad guy, we can identify with him because we experience his fear, and fear is a universal human emotion. We want to turn the page and find out what happens to Jack. This is the power of “showing” instead of “telling.”
 

The Secret to “Showing” a Scene

So what is the secret to “showing” a scene? It’s beautifully simple. Use specific details. Specific details breathe life into your story. They stimulate the reader’s imagination so he can project himself into the scene and become a part of it. By the way, watch out whenever you name an emotion, such as Jack was afraid. It’s lazy writing. The reader won’t feel the emotional impact. How much better it is to “show” the emotion through action, the five senses, and dialogue.

2) Second Example
Telling sentence: Dave thought Brenda was acting secretive.

Showing sentence: Brenda slammed his dresser drawer shut and spun around, her hands hidden behind her back. Her lips jerked into a stiff smile. “Dave! I‐I thought you wouldn’t be home until six o’clock.”

Showing Brings a Vivid Picture

The “showing” example uses physical action, facial expression, and dialogue to convey the same information as the “telling” sentence. But with “showing,” we get a vivid picture. We watch the scene as if it were playing on a movie screen.

So, “showing” makes a scene come alive through the use of details. So take a good, close look at how you present your ideas and characters. All good books touch the reader on an emotional level. You do so by giving proof to the reader — proof of how this character acts and reacts when faced by problems. In other words, you “show” the reader why we should cheer for the character or boo him. And hopefully, in the process, readers will find themselves drawn into the story, unable to put the book down.

So now you have the idea, right? We need details. We need to know thoughts, feelings; we need to see, hear, feel, smell and taste your story. Learn how to put details in your writing. Did you ever wonder why you remember the characters in a book? Or what made a story especially memorable? By combining many elements of writing, you can learn how to write good stories and essays. You have to use the senses, avoid boring dialogue, and write memorable descriptions.

3) Third Example
Telling sentence: Mary was a pretty girl, with blue eyes and blond hair.  

Showing sentence: Mary’s blue eyes glistened with joy, her blond hair bouncing with each step.

4) Fourth Example
Telling sentence: Molly is a wonderful person. 

Showing sentence: Molly is always there when anyone needs her. She’s the first to arrive with a casserole when someone is sick, the first to send a note of encouragement to those who are troubled, the first to offer a hug to anyone ‐‐ man, woman or child ‐‐ at anytime.

5) Fifth Example
Telling sentence: It was very dark inside. 

Showing sentence: I held my hand in front of my eyes but couldn’t see its outline. The walls were invisible and it was impossible to see the bottom of the steep stairs.

6) Sixth Example
Telling sentence: The pizza was delicious. 

Showing sentence: Mushrooms and pepperoni sausage were layered thickly on top of one another while the white mozzarella cheese bubbled over the bright red tomato sauce.

7) Seven Example
Telling sentence: The house was haunted. 

Showing sentence: The old house stood eerily abandoned on the hill, scaring everyone in the neighborhood with creaking, breathing noises.

8) Eight Example
Telling sentence: Eating healthy is good for your body. 

Showing sentence: The calcium in milk, cheese, yogurt, and other dairy products, the vitamins in vegetables, and the protein in meal all help to keep our bodies strong and healthy.

9) Ninth Example
Telling sentence: I was really mad. 

Showing sentence: I ran to the door, threw it open with a loud bang against the wall, and yelled, “Get in this house right this minute! You are three hours late!”

10) Tenth Example
Telling sentence: Jim was so angry that Blair was afraid.  

Showing sentence: Jim grabbed the front of Blair’s shirt and slammed him into the wall. Blair fought to breathe, his heart hammering.

11) Eleventh Example
Telling sentence: The weather was bad. 

Showing sentence: A harsh wind whipped through the trees. Dark clouds poured buckets of rain that overran the gutters and spilled onto the sidewalks.

DRAW the readers in; MAKE them a part of what is happening. SHOW the scene, GET them involved, GIVE it a dramatic impact, SHOW them what’s happening now or how things happened by painting your narrative with words. USE figurative language (similes and metaphors), dialogue and descriptive words.