Show, don’t tell.
Don’t infodump.
Common advice — but often presented as gospel without the reasoning or goal.
The real goal isn’t style, it’s reader engagement.
Because readers don’t remember information. They remember experiences.
As authors, we have a lot in our heads – more than just the voices, even.
We hold the world’s history and character’s backstories in our thoughts and we often think the reader needs to know all of it and right now!
How else will the reader understand? Right? They need the context, they need to have it spelled out right away.
No, they don’t.
In fact, too much information, aside from being a daunting wall of text, actually steals something valuable from the reader’s experience: discovery and understanding.
Rather than focusing on what the reader needs to know, ask yourself how they can figure it out. What clues do they need? What details can they fill in with their own imaginations? Most importantly, what can we make them feel?
Following, I’m going to give a few examples of things from Darkspace Press authors who I think accomplish this rather well.
Explanation Through Character Interaction
First, from J.A. Sutherland’s Into the Dark, we’ll look at relaying technical information, specifically port and starboard aboard ship.
Now, most people know that the sides of a ship are referred to that way, but fewer understand why – they figure it’s something shippy and leave it at that. So let’s say we wanted to explain both what port and starboard mean, but also why different terms are used.
We could have a paragraph like:
The left side of the ship, when facing forward, was called “port” while the right side was referred to as “starboard”. The reason for the difference being so one could tell them apart no matter which way one was facing.
Okay, so clear and simple enough. A couple sentences and the reader understands. Even if they already knew, it’s easy enough to skim forward through this.
Now, in Into the Dark, the MC was as new to shipboard life as some readers might be, so we have the opportunity to explain to the reader at the same time we explain to Alexis, the main character, and that could be as simple as another character saying the above verbatim.
But why not make it more interesting to all readers? Because the MC doesn’t know, we can work the explanation into dialog without the dreaded “as you all know” crutch.
“Wait!” Alexis cried, laughing. “Let me catch up a bit. First, what’s this port and starboard business?”
Philip looked at her in bewilderment. “Well, it’s the sides of the ship, isn’t it? Hadn’t you ever been aboard ship before?”
“Philip,” Alexis explained, “until this morning, I’d never left atmosphere before.” His eyes widened in shock. “And all of this is quite new and confusing to me, so please, do understand.”
“Oh … all right then. So, the sides of the ship, this here’s port,” he said, “and the other’s starboard.”
“Why can’t they just be left and right?”
Philip’s brow furrowed. “Couldn’t call them that … it’d confuse everybody.”
Alexis stared at him flatly.
“How to explain it … I know!” He turned to face her. “So imagine this compartment’s just been holed and the air’s streaming out fast.” Alexis nodded. “Now I scream out that the emergency vacuum suits are in the left-side compartment, where’re you going to look?”
Alexis gestured to her left.
Philip grinned. “But, see, I meant the left-side of the ship, because I’m facing forward and it’s to my left, they’re in the portside compartment. And now you’re dead because what’s to starboard of us here is the heads — that’s what we call the toilet aboard ship.” He glanced around and whispered: “Which you’ll be wanting a good vacuum suit for if you’re following Roland in there.”
Alexis chuckled and nodded. “I see. But how do I know if I’m facing the front or back of the ship, even?”
“Fore or aft,” Philip corrected. “See the stripes on the wall?”
Halfway up each wall was a thin stripe, red on one wall and green on the other — every few feet, the stripes were broken by a white arrow. “Red’s port and green’s starboard, and the arrow points forward. See? Easy.”
“I do see,” Alexis allowed. “The jury’s still out on ‘easy’, I’m afraid.”
It’s a bit longer than narration, but instead of a sudden textbook paragraph, the reader is still in a story. We establish a lot more for the reader, all readers, than just the definition of port/starboard, but also:
- We reinforce Alexis’ fish-out-of-water status;
- Philip and Alexis’ relationship progresses, establishing him as a sort of mentor (at least about shipboard life) while still being peers to the extent that they can joke a bit;
- We insert a bit of humor with the warning about Roland’s bowel issues, but in an organic, believable manner – two new friends laughing about it;
- Even someone who knows the information being relayed derives value from the interaction – it’s not just a paragraph they skip over muttering “already know that”.
No, it’s not as easy as just stuffing an explanation into dialog – that’s not always appropriate either – but character interactions can often relay more information, better, and with more emotional impact.
Backstories, for both the world and characters, is a place where many authors rely on narration, rather than story, to tell the tale – as well as missing an opportunity to have that story impact the reader more strongly by not spelling things out and trusting the reader’s own imagination to fill in much of the story.
For this, let’s look at two examples from Richard Grantham’s Of Dubious Intent:
Implication Is Stronger Than Description
In this one, the MC, Cat, has arrived at a rural manor (the setting is early 19th century England). The staff at the manor is a bit unusual and we establish early that each of them has a bit of a darker past and they’re effectively hiding out in the manor, rarely leaving the grounds.
Some of these – such as the groundskeeper who can easily be described as a former highwayman – are clear reasons with little need for explanation, but we also have Cook, who seems, in all respects, to be warm and kind, almost motherly to the MC as she arrives.
Then Cook becomes Cat’s teacher for the use of poisons.
Not very motherly or kind, really.
So how did Cook wind up there? What secret’s in her past?
Rather than being explicit, we can let the reader discover it and fill in the details with fewer words but more impact.
“There was a man what beat her, and he don’t no more.”
That one line lets the reader fill in the blanks with their own thoughts on the details – and with more emotional impact than dryly stating something like “Her husband beat her so she poisoned him.” or some lengthy narration of the details.
Sometimes, though, there’s value in using more words, but still not in a dump through narration.
Emotional Truth Lives in Voice
In this example, also from Of Dubious Intent, we get the backstory for Emma, one of the maids in the manor, who even more than Cook seems to be a kind soul, out of character for the manor.
“You’ll hate me,” Emma whispered.
“I will never hate you, Emma. Please tell me.”
For a moment, Cat didn’t think she would, then, the girl’s breathing gave a little hitch and she squeezed Cat’s hand in return — her grip growing tighter as she spoke.
“It weren’t but a kiss,” she whispered, voice barely audible.
Cat frowned, not understanding, but waited.
“We was just in the loft, playing like. And there were a bit of a kiss.”
Emma swallowed and went on in a rush as though the start of it had burst a dam and now the whole would have nothing but that it was voiced.
“But my family’s nothing in the village and her Da’s the mayor and her brother saw, you see? An’ her brother, he says he wants what he saw … an’ more from me or he’ll tell. But I won’t, so’s he does. Word spread there were more to it — gossiping, cackling biddies, the lot of them.” Her voice turned bitter and angry. “What man’d have a girl there’s such rumors about, eh? Not that I’d want a one of them!”
The dialog, the beats, the tone – they’re all far more impactful than being relayed through narration.
We can feel empathy along with Cat at the girl’s pain and anger. The rush of words at the end gives a feeling for how hard it is for her to tell the story, as she seems to want to just get the words out quickly.
More importantly, things aren’t spelled out, but they’re clear.
Compare a narration option:
Then the other girl’s brother demanded Emma have sex with him, threatening to disclose her secret if she refused and doing so when she wouldn’t comply.
With the dialog:
“An’ her brother, he says he wants what he saw … an’ more from me or he’ll tell. But I won’t, so’s he does.”
It’s not clear, it’s muddled, the demand isn’t spelled out, only “more,” but the meaning becomes clearer with a bit of thought, and even the tiny effort for the reader to think about what “more” might be allows them a sense of earning the discovery.
We also get a much more impactful reveal about something fundamental to Emma and we get there right along with Cat, discovering it at the same time and in the same way.
“her Da’s the mayor”
Up until this point, the reader likely has no indication that Emma likes girls. There are some hints for the astute reader, but this is the reveal for all, and it’s made clear before the snippet that Cat has had no inklings along those lines.
Again, the option of stating something in narration pales before the reader being hit, unexpectedly, with the simple “her.”
Up until that word, the readers assumption from the start will be that she kissed a boy and there was some issue with that, but then they get to “her” and the reaction is “Wait, what? Ooohhh…”
Hopefully. 🙂
The actionable advice for your own writing?
Anytime you’re presenting information through narration, give some thought to how it can be made story.
- How could this come through dialog or action?
- Do I need to be this explicit in explaining it, or can I hint just enough for the reader to have an ah-ha moment?
- Does the reader even need to know this at this point in the story, or could I hint at it here and reveal later?
That last is important, because it can give readers a real sense of accomplishment or satisfaction. Those who guess it early will be quite pleased with themselves when it’s revealed they were right, while those who didn’t get it will be surprised and suddenly remember the hints they missed.
Both provide a more satisfying reading experience than a textbook.
When Telling Is Better
Show, don’t tell – except when you shouldn’t.
I often think that every bit of writing advice out there should be prefaced with: This is what works for me, in my genre, for my audience, to the extent that’s it’s actually worked at all.
Moreover, nothing is an absolute except that nothing is an absolute. Show, don’t tell is fine advice as a general rule, but it can be frustrating as hell, and counter-productive, to apply it to every bit of telling.
So when should you Tell, don’t show?
Things like:
- Time compression
- Transitions
- Non-emotional facts
- Repetition avoidance
- Pacing control
All of these are places in the story where showing would not only be difficult, but would either not enhance or actually decrease the reader experience.
“He walked to the store” is perfectly acceptable over a step-by-step recounting of the journey … except when the journey might enhance the world-building.
“The sky was blue” is simple and works great … except if expounding on its azure beauty might progress the reader’s understanding of a character.
There are no hard and fast, concrete rules in writing – or at least few of them, not even punctuation (e. e. cummings).
At best, advice like this is a starting point – a guardrail when you’re new on the journey to finishing your story – but in the end, it’s your story. Told with your voice, in your style.
So take from every author’s advice what you like, what you think will make your story better, what resonates with you – because it is your story and should be told your way.
So this is the first craft/business post we’ve made here in a while. I hope you got something from it, or at least enjoyed it a bit, and we’ll probably get back to doing more of these.
As always, thanks for reading!
