Show! Don't Tell!

An editing gaffe leads to a nice example of this writer's mantra.

Advice for beginners...

Budding authors are almost always subjected to this advice when starting out in creative writing.  In most fiction writing, from barely-believable fantasy to historically-accurate drama, from hard science fiction to schlock romance novels, the advice holds true: "Showing" your readers a scene, rather than "telling" them about it creates a much more visceral and impressive effect.

For new writers unsure of the difference, here is a basic example showing two ways of communicating the same concept:

1. Bob was angry. He quietly told Sally to leave immediately.
2. Bob looked at Sally and his eyes narrowed.  Mouth tightened and fists clenched, he bit out the few words he could without raising his voice above a shaky whisper.  "Get out.  Now."

The first is the author telling us that Bob is angry.  As the reader, we can only take the author's word for it.  The author also tells us what Bob said, but only as a summation; we don't get to see the actual words.  The second is the author showing us Bob's reaction.  What does he look like, what does he sound like?  Further, the readers get to see the words and how they are spoken.

The second example makes a bigger impact, right?  We can feel the anger building up, see the physical reaction.  I bet most of us can even hear the exact tone of voice that is that strained whisper, about to boil over into rage.  With the first example, it is little more than a cardboard prop, flat and flimsy.

Telling can lead to the dreaded Informed Attributes trope, where the author tells us about a character and that information directly contradicts what the reader sees from that character.  If an author tells us that Bob is a stern fellow, quick to anger, but then the subsequent scenes show us that Bob is laid back and rarely loses his temper, even when provoked, the reader is left puzzled.  Another common occurrence of Informed Attributes is when the author outright tells us that two characters are friends, in love, or have some close relationship yet never shows any behavior corroborating the statement, or even worse, showing the opposite.  Alternatively, the author creates a redundancy, stating a fact, then showing the fact.  This still creates an issue in the reader's mind, even if not consciously, as we wonder why we are reading the same information over and over again.

Whether contradicting or repeating information, the quandary creates a conflict in readers which takes us out of the story, and the author begins to lose the audience's credulity and faith in the fictional world being created.   As both cases lead to the author pulling the reader out of the story, omitting the telling part out altogether is the wisest move.

Show vs. tell doesn't just stop at how an author writes a scene; it can affect how a scene should be constructed as well.  Having a character telling another something second-hand can drastically affect how the reader will view the scene.  If the author wants us to have a visceral reaction, a second-hand retelling won't generate the desired response.  We need to be shown the scene firsthand, not told about it after the fact.

This is all Storytelling 101, and I'm sure most budding authors have heard it a hundred times.  But it really is very important for new authors to understand, and work on mastering.  It's a constant battle, believe me.  Telling is so much easier for the author.  But showing is so much better for the reader!  Even best-selling authors fight this battle, and many don't even get that far!  I can't tell you how many top-selling books I've seen lacking the basics of the storytelling craft.  This isn't about popularity or money or even about being published.  It's about an author desiring a certain response in the reader and whether the story elicits that response or not.

An example in print...

One of my favorite authors is Raymond E. Feist, author of an epic series of fantasy novels which take place on the fictional world of Midkemia.  The first book in the series is Magician, and it is the first book of a trilogy called The Riftwar Saga.  You may find it under two separate books: Magician: Apprentice and Magician: Master.  Feist has five "war sagas", 2-4 books apiece, with some other story arcs interspersed between.  Over all, there are about 23 books, plus some other collaborations with other authors; most are best-sellers.  I highly recommend these books to fantasy readers.

Feist has been a bestselling author for many years, and like all authors, not every novel could be considered a masterpiece.   He has had ups and downs, and most recently, a series of books which have unfortunately reverted to the kind of pulp for which modern fantasy is widely stereotyped.  I have many examples to back up my opinion, but those can wait for another article.  In short, his last few books have shown glimpses of a return to the solid, adventuring fantasy that started Feist's rise to acclaim.  But that doesn't mean there were no few stumbling blocks.

The example I'd like to show is in one of his last books: A Crown Imperiled (Book One of the Chaoswar Saga).  This book received a lot of criticism for a major editing blunder where a scene is shown in one chapter and then retold in another chapter as a secondhand account.  Normally, this would just be an error of redundancy and just lead readers to yawn and skip over the parts we already know.  However, this particular error breaks continuity and has one of the main characters from the book being present in the first scene, and then recounted the story in the second scene as if he wasn't there!  In fact, it's clear that it's not intentional (a dream of hallucination, etc.) due to the previous and following chapters of each section-- as well as due to a printed apology from the publisher and author about the mistake.

Warning: In the following, I will try to avoid direct spoilers, but some twists may be given away for astute readers.

Showing done right...

In Chapter 4 of A Crown Imperiled, Pug (a recurring main character throughout many of the books) travels to a distant land of one of his oldest, most viciously-fought enemies.  I can't reprint the entire chapter here, for obvious reasons, but he is on location looking over the remains of a battle between his old enemies and an unknown third party.  While Pug is searching a dead soldier belonging to a race that has ever only been referred to as "evil" and "inhuman", we are treated to lines like:

He [Pug] bent and took a small pouch that had been wedged into the soldier's sword belt and pulled it free.  Inside he found small objects.  He tossed one to Amirantha.  "What do you make of this?"

It was a tiny spinning top.  Finally, the Warlock of the Satumbria [Amirantha] said, "It's a toy."

Without being told anything else, we can see a few things going on here.  First, these enemies have been dehumanized by Pug, our protagonist.  They are seen only as evil incarnate by Pug and his allies.  But now, we see a contradiction.  This solider has a child's toy.  Why?  As readers, we can imagine that it belongs to the soldier's child.  Or maybe the soldier got it when he was a child, and kept it as a keepsake, maybe even a memorial to his parents, passed away many moons ago...  Point being, we envision it, feel it.

Upon finding the last city of this once-enemy, Pug and his friends, Amirantha and Sandreena, find the old enemy locked in a struggle against an even greater threat.  So, Pug has to ally with these long-time enemies to fight a common foe. After the battle is over and the common foe defeated, we see Pug standing face to face with a member of a race he has fought against tooth-and-nail for over a hundred years:

Pug said to his companions, "Stay close.  I have no idea what comes next."

Sandreena moved slightly ahead of the two men, prepared to take on any physical assault from the soldiers so the two magic-users could bring their arts to bear.

One of the soldiers was looking around the field, and Pug noticed that his armor was more ornate than the rest, his helm bearing a small set of metal horns on each side.

Already, we are being shown the scene and we can believe that this soldier is a captain, due to his fancy helm.  We don't need to be told.  Unfortunately, after this passage, Feist immediately explains this to us, an example of telling that results in redundancy and undesired hand-holding. But still, the overall effect is pretty moving.  We can see the aftermath and feel the gravity of the moment as these age-old nemeses face each other after helping the other win a battle against a common enemy.  A moment later:

Finally, when it was apparent that all the survivors were standing, the higher-ranking soldier stood looking at the three humans, then turned his back and issued an order in a language Pug had never heard before.  The soldiers turned their backs and began walking toward the city.

After a few steps, the officer stopped, turned, and looked at the three humans for a moment.  He made a small gesture with his hand, then turned away.

Now we get to see the three companions, long-time enemies, being invited in.  Maybe peace can come at long last?  Inside the city, Pug has to reconcile a working, normal civilization with the same enemies he had fought and butchered for so long:

Tak'ka looked at Pug, "As I said, we have very strong feelings regarding you, Pug of Stardock."

Pug said, "Tell me, please."

"You've killed many of our people," said [Tak'ka], flatly.

"And you have killed many of mine," said Pug.  "It was war."

Tak'ka lowered his head slightly.  "True; and to our everlasting sorrow." 

Here, are we not shown as readers the tension between these two?  Pug is a magician of great power and a leader of a group opposed to Tak'ka and his people.  But still they are trying to gain a sense of each others' humanity, realizing the past has been clouded by hate and fear.  Now, they work to begin the process of setting aside a century of misunderstandings, propaganda, and lies told throughout the conflict.

This is showing done right.  We can put ourselves in Pug's shoes and feel his tension, confusion, and ultimately the clearing of his mind of the prejudice and fear.


Showing done not-so right...

In Chapter 15, a major editing error occurred.  A scene after the above took place, but it became clear that the version of the published Chapter 15 wasn't from the same draft as Chapter 4.  In the Chapter 4 of this parallel-world draft, Pug was apparently replaced in the scene by his son Magnus, also a magician of powerful arts, but one without the history of fighting this enemy.  Thus, his perception is different, less filled with the fear and hate.  In fact, Magnus was born after the last major attack by Tak'ka's people.  

So, by the time Chapter 15 rolled around, Pug would have needed to be informed of the new developments (despite having been there in the Chapter 4 we all read).  So now the situation is being relayed to him second-hand and we get to see his reaction to being told the information:

... after half an hour, the sorcerer [Pug] felt he had been sufficiently briefed.  He asked, "Did you see any [of the magic users]?"

"No," said Amirantha... "and I didn't feel it politic to ask the one they call Tak'ka."

Pug sighed.  "Well, the good news is that we've identified the thread.  The [magic users] are back again.  But we don't know where they are."

And that's it. He's been "briefed."  He feels apprehension at the magic users' continued existence, but relief that he at least knows a little more about them.  Nothing about the tension between this age-old enemy and his allies forming this mini-truce.  None of the conflict between a century of rage and hate versus seeing a real, living people with his own eyes.  The emotion, the depth, the meaning is all gone.  Now, we are left with this sterile, cardboard facade.  Information presented to us efficiently, but without any of the subtle nuances and emotions that we could feel in the first example.

This is telling at it's most basic.  One character is relating an event, "briefing" as it were, but they are just words.  The actual experience is missing.

So, in conclusion...

Both of these scenes are from the same author at roughly the same time.  Based on what happens later, it's obvious Chapter 4 was taken from a final draft whereas Chapter 15 was taken from an earlier draft with different characters.  So, that explains the glaring (and immersion-destroying) continuity error.  But fortunately, this mistake gives us a perfect example from one author, at the same point in his writing career, of how to write a story by showing and how one written by telling produces a much flatter, less fulfilling experience for a reader.

Hopefully, this will help everyone visualize the difference as well as realize the reason why every new writer has to repeatedly hear: "Show!  Don't tell!

-Kyuubi Kitsune