Post #191 November 4, 2019

“Story Basics: Show, Don’t Tell”

Several posts ago, I started a series on story basics…kind of a story lab.  I’m indebted to the website Storysci.com for some of these details.  For point #2, I included this:

Instead of telling the audience that something is happening, show them by devoting screen time (or page time) to the illustration of these events. Telling (aka “summary”) is not very interesting in comparison to the audience experiencing the same thing. You don’t need to state what is going on directly. The audience will figure it out for themselves, and in so doing will create a stronger bond with the story than if you simply told the audience that it happened.

Think about going to Disney World.  Your next-door neighbor just came back and gave you a detailed description of what it was like to ride Space Mountain.  You listen and think: wow!  That sounds great.  Then you visit the Magic Kingdom yourself.  You ride Space Mountain.  Is there any way your neighbor’s description can compare with what you’ve gone through?

Of course not.  Your own experience includes so much more.  It was gut-wrenching.  It was visceral.  You now know what it feels like, what it smells and tastes like, what it looks like.

This is what you should be striving for as a storyteller.  Readers read stories, among other reasons, to vicariously experience things, people and places they would not ordinarily be able to experience.  To describe these things, it’s always better to show them happening to engaging characters than tell the reader what Joe Blow is experiencing.  Let Joe tell the reader.  And before you let Joe speak of his experiences, do your homework and make sure the reader can really empathize with Joe in the first place.

Having said that, it’s clear that you can’t show everything.  The story would be 1000 pages long (and some are). This means you have to pick and choose what to show and tell.  Therein lies the artistry of writing and storytelling.  Choose to show experiences happening to Joe Blow that reveal what Joe is like as a person and that advance the plot of the story, or ideally both.  How does he react to Space Mountain?  Is he terrified because of some childhood trauma?  Does he want more of the same?  Which way would the story go if he refused to even board the roller coaster?  What would that say about Joe?

When you are showing what happens to Joe and describing his reactions, use active voice as much as possible.  Active voice: “Joe screamed his head off when he rode Space Mountain.”  Passive voice: “Joe’s head came off when he screamed as he rode Space Mountain.”  Okay, so maybe that isn’t the best example.  But showing what happens to Joe is more immediate, more experiential, in active voice.  It’s all about putting your reader into the mind and senses and feelings of a character.  Anything that makes the reading more immediate and more real is what I mean by showing, not telling.  In active voice, the subject performs the action stated by the verb.  In passive voice, the subject is acted upon by the verb.  Remember Mrs. Warner in high school English?

One final point about showing vs telling.  Human beings are predominantly visual creatures.  A lot of our brainpower is devoted to interpreting what we see.  But we have other senses.  Often impressions that come in through those senses are the most powerful and impactful of all impressions.  As a storyteller, use that.  What does it really feel like to Joe as he rides Space Mountain?  Does he strain his neck?  Wet his pants?  Throw up?  And what does it sound like?  Is he screaming his lungs hoarse?  Is his mouth dry?  Is his heart pounding so hard he can hear it even over the screams of others? 

When showing, try to engage every sense you can.  Remember Marcel Proust and what happened when he smelled a madeleine?  Just the smell of a cookie dipped in tea resurrected whole chapters of childhood memories.

The next post to The Word Shed comes on November 11.  In this post, we continue our story lab and deal with Conflict.

See you then.

Phil B.