Show, Don't Tell

Your fifth-grade English teacher, in my case Miss Powell, writes the words on the chalkboard as a reminder that you are to keep this phrase in mind with each word you grind into your notebook with your No. 2 pencil. A simple phrase, she explains, that means show the reader what you mean, don't tell them.

"So, you see," she tells the class, "the definition is self-explanatory. Okay, now write."

Great. Okay. Wait. What?

All the students, except Bobby Miller, who is attacking the page like a hungry reporter, stare ahead with a glazed expression of nothingness on their faces.

You feel dumb because it's supposed to be simple, and if it's so simple, then you should understand how to do it. But you don't. Why? Because that simple phrase does the exact opposite of what it is advising you to do. It's telling you to show, don' tell. But it's not showing you how. It oversimplifies a vast and complex process that incorporates myriad practices that must be executed to create a successful "showing" piece of work.

How do you show, then?

Let's start with the great 19th century Russian playwright Anton Chekhov. It can be argued that his quote on show, don't tell is the most famous in the world. 

"Don't tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass."

It is a vivid image. But as with so many other things in today's world, we like to get our information in abbreviations and sound bites. Alas, that is the case with this quote, which isn't a quote from Chekhov at all, but a reworded, truncated version of what he said or, more specifically, wrote. If we were to pass down the full quote from this master of the stage play, the technique of show, don't tell might not be so hard to grasp.

Our teachers tried to explain it. They did the best they could, but I am going to guess many of our writing teachers, like Miss Powell, didn't fully understand how to put show, don't tell into practice themselves. So how could they teach us? That's not an insult to those who tried yet fell short of defining this concept. The problem is within the phrase itself and how we describe its meaning.

Show, don’t tell is a writing technique using action and sensory detail rather than exposition. Show illustrates. Tell states.

You may think this means to be more descriptive, use more adjectives or write that your character is wearing a green wool sweater or your cat has five toes on his two front paws. And you’d be correct because description is important. But it’s only the beginning.

Let's look at the actual quote that Chekhov wrote in a letter in May of 1886 to his brother who had literary aspirations. It reads: 

“In descriptions of Nature one must seize on small details, grouping them so that when the reader closes his eyes he gets a picture. For instance, you’ll have a moonlit night if you write that on the mill dam a piece of glass from a broken bottle glittered like a bright little star, and that the black shadow of a dog or a wolf rolled past like a ball.”

Notice that Chekhov uses comparisons to show the moon is shining. He doesn't describe the moon at all, or even mention the moon. Nor does he mention the "reflection of light" in his description. He uses simile to capture the essence of the moonlight so we can see it in a vivid and tangible way. The broken glass "glittered like a bright little star" and "the black shadow of a dog or a wolf rolled past like a ball." What's more complex about these two comparisons is that in each he uses an image inside an image.

In the first we have the image of a broken bottle on the mill damn and from that image we see a piece of glass glitter like a bright little star. In the second we have the image of a shadow of a dog or a wolf and from that image we see the shadow roll past like a ball.

Even more complex is the emotion these images evoke. It's not just a picture he's drawing. It's a painting he's painting. Have you ever gone to a museum and just stared at a painting for minutes, getting lost in the emotion of it. The more you stare at the painting, the more layers you discover, the deeper you fall into it. That's what Chekhov does. The glitter of a bright little star feels magical, while, at the same time, the shadow of the dog or wolf rolling past like a ball is mysterious.

Chekhov showed us that moonlight is magical and mysterious without ever mentioning the moon or using the "telling" words magical and mysterious. Those are great words, and I encourage you to use them, however, compare the difference in how you feel about moonlight after reading Chekhov's passage and then me telling you that moonlight is magical and mysterious. 

So, his well-crafted bit of advice to his brother, which gave so much insight into what show, don't tell means, is lost because someone at some time decide to paraphrase and shorten it into an anecdote and that's what stuck.

 Yes, the "don't show me the moon is shining" thing is cool, but it cannot compete with a magical glittering little star and a mysterious shadow of a dog or wolf rolling past like a ball.

This segment is taken from my upcoming book on writing titled Glittering Little Stars. In it, I give tips and techniques on the basic structure of story and the principal elements of character, plot, point of view, tense, pacing, dialogue, and, yes, the all-important and often misunderstood concept of show, don’t tell. This book draws from my experiences in writing and what I’ve gathered from others who write. My goal in writing this is to pass along to you what I’ve learned and practiced in the hopes of having an abundance of great new books to read in the future.

Although Glittering Little Stars is written with the novelist in mind, other authors will benefit from the tips and techniques offered here, including, but not limited to the writers of memoir and short story.

If you would be interested in this book, please drop me a note and let me know. I can put you on my list and notify you when the book goes into publication.

Happy writing, everyone! 

~Eileen