Most writers will have heard the phrase 'Show, don't tell' - and if you haven't, then it's about time you did.

We know from our experience that countless first time writers tend to tell rather than show. It's a catastrophic mistake to make - one that will require a complete rewrite of your material. So you MUST get this right. And where better to start than by getting to grips with our Quick Guide below ...

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Show, don't tell - the basic concept

Compare the two following bits of text, the first of them written by the Lecturer, the second written by the Showman.

Lecturer

Misha's boss was a man named Tupolev. He was a short man, hopelessly out of control of the repair yard, and using anger and contradictory instructions to make up for it. Misha did what he could to calm things down and make progress anyway.

Showman

The train nosed in then stopped. Men began to uncouple the long chain of carriages.    A short but massive man in a waist-length coat and a flat cap began to bellow instructions in a continual torrent. Half the time, the orders made no sense. The man shouted things like, ‘Lift it up – up – no up, you wet dishcloth – well, down then if it doesn’t go. Down!’ He didn’t make it clear who he was addressing or what he was talking about. His face was bright with anger, and he had a tic in his upper lip. The man giving the orders was Comrade Tupolev and he was Misha’s new boss. It was spring.    Tupolev dealt with some other workers, then approached Misha.    ‘Malevich. Those carriages. They’re late. They’re required immediately in the port railway. Immediately! Those carriage bodies … Well! They’re in a rotten state! But, you understand, we have to fix them up. You do. Not that you’d understand. An aristocrat. Anyhow. That’s the way it goes. Yes!’      ‘You would like me to take charge of repairing those carriages for immediate return to the port railway,’ said Misha, calmly translating his boss’s nonsense into logical order. ‘Yes, comrade.’

Hopefully, you can see at once, that the first bit of text explains things just fine - lecturers (see left) are good at explanation. But the showman brings the scene to life. You feel Tupolev, you sense his living presence on the page. You also feel Misha's individuality too. You can sense the kind of man he must be to be shouted at in this way and to respond as calmly as he does.

What makes the difference? It's that the second piece shows Tupolev being angry, shows him being chaotic, shows Misha being calm. And that's the heart of the issue. A reader wants to feel physically present at particular places & times. If they do that and see & feel what's happening, they don't need the lecturer's generalisations at all.

Show, don't tell - the advanced version

Those basic principles about telling and showing need to be followed through in every scene you ever write. Don't tell us what happened, show it happening.

The secret is to make sure that your scenes unfold in real time. Make sure that they seem very physically present. Make sure that you use dialogue to propel the scene, not just a report of a conversation that took place.

In most fiction, pretty much every chapter is written in real time - shown, not told that is. In good quality commercial fiction, you'll probably find it hard to find anything else, in fact. In literary fiction, while the exceptions are more numerous, it is still essential to create the experience of life unrolling moment by moment on the page.

If you think you might have a problem with this issue, then get really disciplined about your response. Check every scene you write. Is it real time (good)? Or reported after the event (bad)? Do you use dialogue (good)? Or just report what happened (bad)? Do you use plenty of physical language to set the scene (good)? Or do you just tell us where it happened in a sentence, then forget about it (bad)?

Also, if you find that your book is shorter than you expected, then it can often be that you're telling too much, and showing too little. As the chunks on this page tell you, showing ain't just better, it's rather longer too. As showmen and showwomen (see right) can tell you, it ain't easy to be wonderful.

Here's one last contrast between the showman & the lecturer. Pretty obvious which is better, huh? Oh, and if you like the Showman's stuff, then you can always go out and buy it.

Lecturer

Misha and Tonya had a long conversation that night. Tonya was worried that Misha would need to escort her mother to Switzerland. He assured her that he'd rather stay with her in Russia, dangerous as that was. He made light of the danger, in fact, and danced with her down the lamplit streets.

Showman

‘What’s up with you?’ said Misha in surprise.    'Your mother. You said she was going to Switzerland. But if she goes, won’t you need to … will you … who would go with her?’    ‘Who would go with her?’    Misha stopped and looked full into Tonya’s face. He saw the worry gathered between her eyebrows, her green eyes flitting from one place to another on his face. He was still a moment, then his mouth quivered and broke out in a merry, widening laugh.    ‘Oh, comrade Lensky, comrade Lensky!’    He took her by the waist and her left hand, and, whistling out a tune to give them rhythm, he led her in a rapid waltz down the empty street. Infected by his mood, she started to laugh, but her anxiety hadn’t gone.    ‘But really … wouldn’t you need to go?’    ‘Comrade Lensky, you’re missing your steps!’    ‘No, tell me!’    ‘One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, one. That’s better. Keep going.’    Tonya’s feet began to move as he instructed her. She was naturally a better dancer than he was, even though he’d been the one with the boyhood dancing tutor. He’d begun to teach her one evening and already she was technically more competent than him, though she still didn’t give herself to the dance the way he did.    ‘Excellent, Lensky! Lensky of the Bolshoi!’    Misha turned from a simple waltz into a complex Viennese one, full of turns inside turns, spinning and circling down the street. Then he fumbled his steps. She pushed him in mock disgust. The dance ended with them leaning against a high stone wall, panting.    ‘Charmante, Madame,’ said Misha bowing.    ‘Tell me.’    ‘My job is to get them out of the country with a little money. Natasha and Raisa are fifteen and sixteen. Mother will be safe enough with them.’    ‘Really?’    ‘No. I lied. Raisa must be seventeen now.’    ‘Misha!’    He took her in his arms. He wasn’t broadly built, but there was something in his tallness and confidence, that made him seem bigger. ‘I won’t leave Russia without you. And you have your family to think of – your brother, father, and grandmother.’    ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’    Misha nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. And that's why I'm staying.'

As always, it's easy for us to give you general rules - it's a lot harder for you to apply them. The best way to get feedback on your work is to come to us for a full download on what's working, what's not working and what to do to fix it. Info on our services for fiction writers can be found by clicking the link. Or if you just want to go ahead and get feedback, then you can check out how to do it here.

And if there's anything you want to ask about - whether you're a showman, showwoman or lecturer - then just feel free to ask away.

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