Storytellers―the words evoke visions of ancient days when bards wove tales of their journeys into an adventurous lark, bringing excitement into the lives of the farmers and townspeople they entertained. Or maybe you envisioned a spooky campfire with a group of campers listening to eerie ghost stories to tingle their spine.
As times have changed, so have today’s storytellers. Modern reader expects more. The biggest changes have been technological. From the hand set presses of the fourteen hundreds, to the mechanical presses of the 1800’s, we have advanced to electronic, computerized P.O.D. mass marketed books. In the 1800’s until the advent of the electronic presses in the 1970’s, writers were paid by the word. The more they pontificated, the more they made. So we got writing from revered classics like;
If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want the truth.
This piece of telling is exactly what we can no longer pull off, and yet many if not all of you studied this book in high school. It is the opening sentence in J.D. Salinger classic, “Catcher in the Rye”. And it would not even be considered in today’s market if an unpublished author sent it in. So it is no wonder authors today are confused when they learn they are telling rather than showing. Our audience has been changed forever by the advent of television and movies. They want to see the story, to feel it on an emotional level. If you can’t pull off this ballet of balance between showing and telling, you will continue to rack up the rejections.
As the author, it is your responsibility to show the scenes that matter and quickly and succinctly tell necessary information that cannot be shown. Knowing when to do each is difficult but crucial to writing a story the audience will want to read. Give the reader action, give them dialogue, let them experience and savor the tale.
How?
First―convert as many passive linking verbs as possible into action verbs or other strong forms that show rather than tell.
Most of you have heard me denigrate the word “was.” But I need to clarify―it is all forms of “to be,” not just the poor, picked on “was.” Search your draft for any of the words on THE LIST. Determine if you can improve the sentence by rewriting it. Some fixes are simple―if you have “he was xxxxing,” you can almost always change it to “he xxxxed.” Others take a lot more work and a lot more words, but the result is that you engage your reader rather than bore them.
THE LIST
was were have had
do did done place
put get got might
will would can could
felt feel believed realized
seemed appeared took take
be being are am
is think thought
’ve (when used as a contraction for have)
’d (when used as a contraction for had or would)
Examples:
Telling:
Patrick and Elizabeth hid behind a large oak tree. They didn’t want Charles to find them; he was bigger and meaner than the other kids on the block. Unfortunately, they didn’t realize that the tree was hardly large enough to disguise their presence.
Showing:
Patrick’s ball cap and Elizabeth’s skirt stuck out from behind the large oak. Charles the Bully, who had been looking for a couple young kids to harass, noticed immediately and quickly headed toward the tree with a sneer.
The first example gives you the facts but do you really care what happens next? In the second you can anticipate their fear, how are they going to escape, you want to know because the writer engaged your curiosity.
To determine which format you need for a scene―first write it in show format, you can always change it to the tell format if you wish to slow down the pace and let your readers catch their breath
“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”
―Anton Chekhov.
Achieve active Writing
Active language requires the strong use of strong action verbs.
Before: I had opportunities to develop my skills.
After: I sought opportunities to develop my skills.
Before: I got the promotion through hard work.
After: I earned the promotion through hard work.
Before: She did well in this competitive environment.
After: She thrived in this competitive environment.
Before: My mother didn’t want to show up without a gift.
After: My mother hesitated to show up without a gift.
Second, Showing turns on the movie camera. You the writer record what it sees, even better, you can record all five senses.
Writing “the house was creepy” is telling. It does not bring your reader into the scene.
Showing: “shingles hung crookedly, a few completely gone, a pane of broken glass with sharp shards jutting upward like an open, blood-hungry maw threatened any interloper. The wind howled through the house, sounding like the whispers of the dead. It startled me and as I reared back, the cobwebs draped across the stairwell brushed my neck.
When you have a scene with any action, and you aren’t transitioning between scenes, you should probably be showing.
Telling action:
Jack was having a tough time with life. Everything he was doing lately seemed to turn out wrong. Even the simplest aspects of his daily activities had begun to take their toll. Look at what happened when he got out of bed in the morning. He had stumbled around, as if in a blue funk. He’d been hurt when he’d fallen against his dresser and pulled it over while he was trying to right himself. He didn’t care who might have heard him throwing the unit against the wall or the damage it might have caused. And after he made his way into the bathroom and began to prepare himself for another day, he wasn’t sure if it was worth it.
Showing action:
Like life itself, Jack could not find his balance. He fell against the chest of drawers and caught himself before staggering backward and pulling the unit with him. A drawer flew open and hit him in the side. He and it collapsed onto the bed like two clumsy lovers. He threw off the drawer and let it bang hard against the wall, cracking the plaster, not concerned that the noise and vibration might have startled the newborn child in the apartment below. He weaved his way to the bathroom, and as he stared in the mirror and ran the water, not caring if it was hot or cold, he took out his razor. He didn’t lather his face, but kept glaring at what he saw—and wondered.
Third, Overcome vagueness. Vagueness often indicates telling.
Example: A pretty blonde, Sylvia wore clothes to enhance her coloring.
The vague word here is “pretty.” Some readers may think blondes are unattractive and prefer a sexy brunette. You are telling them, YOU, THE WRITER, think Sylvia is a pretty blonde. In addition she wore clothes but we have no idea how they enhanced her coloring. This tendency to explain rather than show through dialogue or action occurs more often than most writers admit.
Here are a few examples.
- The dog scared me.
- The Rottweiler’s low growl exploded into a heart stopping bark. I jumped backward, knocking the chair over on my way toward the door. As useless as my defense was, I kept my right foot poised for the kick.
(See? Don’t TELL people the dog scared you…SHOW them. Not once in the second example does it actually say you are scared of the dog, but you feel it and see it.)
- She yelled at Timmy, upsetting him.
- “Shut the hell up, you freakin’ little wimp!” Timmy looked up at his mother, tears taking less than a second to form and roll down his dirty face in streams that tracked both disbelief and desolation.
- Mike was a mean man.
- Mike walked with the rest of us, but always two steps ahead, ensuring “first kicking rights” to any stray dogs coming up to us hoping for a scrap of food. Sometimes he teased them before laying a steel-toed boot to them; this bothered me the most, seeing that small spark of hope in the eyes of the starving mongrels…then hearing the yelp.
Each of these sentences has two versions. One version is too general and therefore lacks the visual clarity that a reader needs to fully understand what the writer is talking about. The other version of the same sentence uses specific details and makes the image the writer is presenting much more vivid and alive.
Vague: She went home in a bad mood. (What kind of bad mood? How did she act or look?”
Specific: She stomped home, hands jammed in her pockets, angrily kicking rocks, dogs, small children, and anything else that crossed her path.
Vague: My neighbor bought a really nice old desk. (Why nice? How old? What kind of desk?)
Specific: My neighbor bought a solid oak, roll-top desk made in 1885 that contains a secret drawer triggered by a hidden spring.
Vague: He was an attractive man. (Attractive in what ways – his appearance, personality, or both? Can you picture him from reading this sentence?)
Specific: He had Paul Newman’s eyes, Robert Redford’s smile, Sylvester Stallone’s body, and Bill Gates’ money.
Do not try to correct the problem by throwing adjectives at it. Remember, sentences read best with only two adjectives per noun, three max. If you must have any more, write a second sentence to continue the description.
After reading the sentences above, rewrite the vague sentences below using your own specific details.
- My boyfriend/girlfriend acted like a jerk.
- She wears really strange outfits.
- The scenery in the mountains was beautiful.
- My roommate is very (in)considerate.
Finally, if you’ve written a draft, go back through your paper looking for sentences where you use good, specific detail. Then, find the sentences that are general and add details that make those sentences come alive.