When to Tell (and NOT Show)

It’s commonly whispered that a good writer will show and not tell, and that’s true…sometimes. Telling has its own useful merits in writing. For instance: dialogue. Dialogue is a fast, quick format for telling the reader what’s going on without paragraph after paragraph of hefty, (noisy), and sometimes downright overwhelming showing.

Sometimes, writing is about decluttering.

The Exercise: Think up a uniquely original short conversation (or borrow from my own example below) which SHOWS an emotion, a piece of description, etc. via TELLING.

The Example:

            “I asked him what color his shirt was and he said it was green.” Abigail’s accompanying laugh gave credit to her disbelief.

            “Yeah?” Graham murmured absently, not bothering to left his gaze from the television screen.

            She tittered. “Well, you saw John’s shirt. Tell me it wasn’t blue?”

            Graham yawned. Lounging more deeply into his recliner he closed his eyes, a practiced show in concentration. “Yup,” he seconded, “it was blue all right.”

             “So you agree then—with my decision to call the doctor?”

            A beat of silence and then Graham shrugged. “I don’t know what color has to do with it…”

            “It has everything to do with it! He’s losing his sight!” Abigail wailed, her voice rising insistently in pitch. “Whatever next?”

            “Maybe he’s just color blind.”

            Abigail chewed on this for a moment. “No, that’s not it. He always knew colors before.”

            Graham remained quiet.

            “I had to call the doctor, surely you agree with me? Perhaps it’s time John thought about moving into one of those homes…he’s almost eighty you know.”

            “As long as we’re clear, he’s not moving in here,” was all Graham said in response.

            Now it was Abigail’s turn to grow silent.

***

Okay… less than 1,000 words and already, a reader has been bombarded with emotional undercurrents (and even a bit with descriptive context).

They’ll be wondering: why is Abigail so hung up on John’s inability to distinguish colors—why is that such a pivotal tipping point in her calling the doctor? And why does she keep laughing? Is she nervous? Is she excitable by nature? And why does she keep pestering Graham over her thoughts? Does she crave the validation of her decision? Does she feel guilty? It’s almost as if she’s hoping that Graham will agree that she’s right to be concerned, that of course, John should be put in an assisted living home…or is there something else? And Graham, what’s his deal? His responses are so indifferent, uncaring…

Writers: did you notice that all of those emotions, all of those readerly questions, came from not only what the characters said, but how they said it? The very words, clipped phrases, laughing tags, etc. all created a tense, stark atmosphere without an excessive amount of showing. I didn’t need to describe, in minute detail, what John saw regarding the color of his shirt and what Abigail saw in comparison. It’s not overly relevant. The fact that they saw different colors, different hues, is all that matters.

Dialogue has a way of telling you what you need to know succinctly while action tags help emphasize and highlight (ahem, they help show the emotions and feelings behind the speech), all the while moving the story along at a nice, steady clip.

Good writing is just like anything else. A careful, delicate balancing act. Choose when to show. Choose when to tell. And choose how to blend the two together, rotationally, simultaneously, artistically.