Two Ways to Share a Moment
Picture this. Your friend gets back from a holiday, and you ask how it was.
They could say, "It was amazing." Fair enough. But then they pull out their phone and show you a photo: a turquoise bay, a fishing boat, their sunburnt grin. Suddenly you feel the amazing. Nobody had to use the word.
That's the whole idea of today's lesson. Telling is when you name a thing for the reader. Showing is when you hand them the details and let them work it out.
You've probably heard the advice "show, don't tell." It's good advice, but it's only half the story. By the end of this lesson you'll know how to show, and you'll also know when telling is the better choice.
What Telling Looks Like
Here's a flat little passage. Read it and see how it lands for you.
Maya was nervous about her driving test. She was really scared.
It's clear, isn't it? But do you feel anything? Probably not much. The writer has done all the feeling for you and just reported the result.
Now try this version:
Maya checked her mirrors three times before she'd even started the engine. Her palms left damp prints on the steering wheel. When the examiner clicked his pen, she jumped.
What changed? The word "nervous" is gone, and so is "scared." In their place we've got actions and small physical details. You put the clues together yourself, and because you did the work, the feeling hits harder.
How to Turn Telling into Showing
So how do you actually do it? Here's a simple trick. Imagine a camera filming the scene. A camera can't record "nervous". It can only record what's there to see and hear.
When you spot an emotion word in your draft, ask yourself: what would the camera catch? Usually the answer is one of these:
- Actions: what the person does, like checking the mirrors over and over
- The body: damp palms, a jolt, a held breath
- Objects and surroundings: a cold cup of tea nobody drank, a phone turned face-down
Writers have been passing this advice around for a long time. In an 1886 letter to his brother Alexander, the Russian writer Anton Chekhov suggested that you could get a moonlit night across by describing a piece of broken bottle glass flashing like a bright star on a mill dam. You'll often see this quoted as "Don't tell me the moon is shining." Chekhov didn't write those exact words. That line is a later paraphrase. But the idea is his: pick one vivid, specific detail and let it do the job.
One trap to watch for. Don't show something and then tell it straight after:
Her hands shook. She was terrified.
That second sentence is a "double-dip". The shaking hands already did the work, so trust them and cut the explanation.
When Telling Wins
Here's where we go beyond the slogan. Can you imagine a film with no fast-forward, where every second of the character's day plays out in real time? You'd be bored stiff.
Telling is your fast-forward button. It works brilliantly for:
- Moving through time: "Three weeks passed."
- Background facts the reader just needs to know: "Maya had failed the test once already."
- Routine, unimportant stuff: "She got ready for school in a blur."
Look at what happens if you show that last one:
She squeezed the toothpaste onto her brush, watching the blue stripe curl. She brushed each tooth slowly...
We're spending our attention on a toothbrush. Unless that toothbrush matters to the story, it's wasted showing. One quick line of telling gets us to the good part faster.
The literary critic Wayne C. Booth made this point in his 1961 book The Rhetoric of Fiction. He argued that good writers always do both. They don't pick one forever. They choose moment by moment.
So here's your rule of thumb. Show the moments that matter emotionally. Tell the bits that connect them.
Putting It Together
Let's watch both working side by side:
Maya had failed the test once already, back in March. This time she checked her mirrors three times before she'd even started the engine. Her palms left damp prints on the wheel.
The first sentence tells. It's quick background and it moves us along. Then the showing slows us down right where the tension sits. Can you feel how the two work as a team?
Your Writing Prompt
Write about 150 words about a character waiting for news: a phone call, an exam result, a letter. Here are the rules:
- Never name the emotion they're feeling.
- Include at least one line of telling that moves time forward quickly.
Your Show-or-Tell Checklist
When you've got a draft, read it back and ask yourself:
- Have I named an emotion where an action or detail could show it?
- Could a camera actually see or hear each of my details?
- Have I double-dipped, showing something and then explaining it?
- Am I spending lots of words showing something unimportant that I could just tell?
- Do my time jumps and background facts move quickly?
Don't worry if your first try feels clunky. Everyone's does. This is a skill you build by revising, one paragraph at a time.
Key Takeaways
- Telling names things for the reader. Showing gives them details so they work it out themselves.
- To show an emotion, ask what a camera would catch: actions, the body, objects.
- Don't double-dip by showing something and then telling it too.
- Telling is your fast-forward button. Use it for time jumps, background and routine.
- Show the moments that matter. Tell the bits that connect them.