A NOVEL Writing Site.com » Showing vs. Telling

Writing Lesson 32 – Let Me Show You How to Show

lynn — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 09:00:41 +0000

“Showing vs. Telling”

We’ve written much about this concept of using vivid action, description, and dialogue to show what’s happening in a story rather than simply telling readers about what happens.

It would be fitting, perhaps, to “show” you an example.

Below is the first paragraph of a scene in my work in progress (wip), More Precious Than Gold. Eliza is my heroine. The town’s doctor is in jail, and Eliza’s father has just been shot by an intruder who wandered into their home after a riot. Here’s how it appeared before the final edit.

Before:

A neighbor heard the shot. An eternity passed before he returned with a doctor, but Eliza understood. One was in jail and another in hiding as an accomplice. Who knew where the sympathies of the town’s other physicians lay? She didn’t ask, and she didn’t care at that point. Stanching the flow of blood was of paramount importance.

Do you see how this paragraph “tells” you about what’s happening? You can almost hear the writer (um…that would be me) narrating the story. I “tell” you that the neighbor heard the shot. I imply that he went for a doctor and “tell” you that it took a long time. While there’s nothing particularly wrong with that, it’s just not very interesting. There’s lots of potential tension in this scene. It would be so much better to “show” the action as it unfolds, allowing readers to see through the POV (point of view) character’s eyes. Look what I did with it.

After:

Eliza snatched a shawl from the hall tree and pressed it to Papa’s wounds as she cradled his head in her lap. The door creaked open, squeezing them against the wall. She stifled a cry and leaned forward, shielding him with her body.

It was only a neighbor. “I heard a shot. Do you . . . oh, Lord! I’ll get help.”

An eternity passed before he returned with a doctor in tow, but Eliza understood. One was in jail and another in hiding as an accomplice. Who knew where the sympathies of the town’s other physicians lay? She didn’t ask, and she didn’t care at that point. Stanching the flow of blood was of paramount importance.

There are still some “telling” sentences, but they center on Eliza, setting the scene for new sentences that play up the action (snatching the shawl, pressing it to the wound) and emotion (trying not to scream, shielding the victim) or the sensory aspects of the scene (the creaking door, feeling squeezed).

The vilest offender in the early version of this paragraph was the first sentence where I “told” you the neighbor heard the shot. If I’m writing from Eliza’s POV, she could only assume this, at best. Look how much more interesting it is to convert that sentence to dialogue that shows the same information, Eliza’s relief, the neighbor’s alarm.

Exercise:

Use my original paragraph of choose one of your own that seems to buffer the action by “telling” it. Using vivid action verbs, sensory elements, and dialogue, experiment with ways you could “show” the story unfolding.

p.s.—Papa doesn’t die, so you can breathe easy.

p.p.s.—I have done so many edits on this wip that I have lost count. This isn’t unusual for a professional writer. Hemingway rewrote the last chapter of The Old Man and the Sea 40 times before he was pleased with it! Writing is a tedious job, but every improvement moves the story from “good” closer to “excellent.”

Writing Lesson 30 – Write What You Know

naomi — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 09:00:29 +0000

. . . Or Don’t Know!

When I was a teenager starting to pursue my writing passion, I was constantly bombarded with the adage: write what you know. I found this a little bit frustrating, to say the least. After all, I was about fourteen. What did I know? Very little, I’ll tell you.

Imagine life without Google. When I was starting out, there was no quick way to find out the stuff I didn’t know. I couldn’t type in the computer, “When were hand-pumps invented?” Good grief, computers? Only NASA had those things, and they took up an entire room! The World Wide Web hasn’t been around very long, but it sure has changed the way we find information.

But, still, I was told to write what I had knowledge of. I didn’t travel the world – I still don’t. I hadn’t been in any serious relationships. I knew that my youth would be smiled at when it came to big, worldly topics. What I did know was high school and camping and riding my bike and swimming in the creek by my house. My world was as small as Tom Sawyer’s.

So how was I supposed to write what I knew? How are you supposed to do that?

First of all, take a look at the small things, rather than the big ones. You don’t know first-hand about marriage and raising children or living in a 3^rd world nation – all that stuff. But you do know about some of the things that I knew about. Take those little life experiences and let them live and breathe in your writing.

If, like me, you ride your bike a lot or swim in creeks, then let your character do those things. Whatever kind of story you’re telling, let your small life experiences unfold in the story.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She flew out of the house and yanked her bike out of the garage, knocking over her brother’s fishing pole with the wheel. She didn’t care. She didn’t even stop to pick it up. She got on and pushed the pedals hard until the wobbling tire straightened out and the gravel crunching under the wheels sounded like a soft roar as she pedaled down the road.

I knew then, and I still remember years and years later, what it felt like to be mad, to take off on my bike, to try to put distance between myself and home, to hear those wheels spinning on rocks or pavement.

There are so many similar things you know that you maybe don’t think about. I write a lot of stuff set in forests. Some of it is historical. As a kid, I learned what it’s like to walk for long distances in wild country, to hunt, to gut out a deer, to breathe in the scent of wild flowers and pine pitch.

Those small experiences will make your stories come to life with real power.

NOW – about that other part – what you DON’T know.

People who write historical stories have never gone back in time and ridden on a wagon train. I pretty much doubt that science fiction writers have been abducted by aliens and gotten to travel in space ships either. They don’t know what they’re writing about. Not really. But still they write about these things with such passion and insight, we believe they really know what they’re talking about. It seems like only a person who’s experienced some of these things can be writing about them.

That’s where research comes into play combined with those little things we do know. Writers sometimes have to write about things they don’t know. But they have to really research them. Writers who don’t like to read will never really become excellent in their craft. So, read, read, READ! Read the kind of stories you like to write, but read other kinds of stories too. Read biographies. Read about science. Read histories.

I never really liked history until after I graduated from high school. Names and dates bored me. But then I started reading more historical fiction. In those stories, history suddenly came alive and mattered to me! Now I like to study history because I care about it.

Read that stuff. You’ll get great ideas there.

Sometimes writers can only imagine the nuances of the experiences and places they don’t know. I mean, think of J.R.R. Tolkien writing about life as a hobbit or even as a cave troll in Middle Earth! But when they add into the mix the things they do know, the unknown suddenly sprouts wings and takes off in fantastic ways!

Exercises:

Grab your journal and start writing down a list of the things you know about – your life experiences. Describe how you felt, what it was like, what you saw or smelled. Go ahead. Do it now.

You’ve gone hiking in the Rocky Mountains? Neat; lots of senses involved with that one. Write it down. You’ve walked through a huge motel and forgot how to find your room, or you got lost in the Mall of America? That would be kind of scary. You live on a farm – or in a major city? Some people have no idea what one or the other of those is like! Your brother just went on his first date? I bet that was funny to watch. Your family heats the house with firewood? That’s a lot of work. You just painted your bedroom? That’s a great skill, but paint makes you light-headed, doesn’t it? You went to summer camp? I bet there was some drama there.

Now take some of those experiences you’ve written down and think of how you can incorporate those experiences, or at least the feelings and senses of them, into your stories.

And as for the things you don’t know, go the library. Really explore your school books. Ask your world-traveling friends on Facebook. Google.

Writing Lesson 29 – Showing Actions and Emotions

melinda — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 09:00:23 +0000

We all have unique facial expressions and gestures. In a novel, these make each character different. Joe may frown when he’s thinking. Mary may pull her eyebrows together. Tracy might purse her lips and tap a finger against them. You might cross your arms and tap your foot.

We’ve discussed showing vs. telling in several lessons. This is an important aspect of writing. I can tell you about my trip to the beach, but you understand it better when I show you a picture. You were not there to taste the salt, see the waves, feel the sun, touch the powdery sand, or hear the call of the seagulls. In a novel, we seldom have pictures. You must experience each character’s actions and emotions through the word pictures the author paints.

When a writer shows a clear picture via words, the reader sees the image. As you write, make the scene play like a movie clip or a series of snapshots. The story comes through the eyes of one character—the point of view character in that scene.

How do you show an action? I could say that Jane was angry. If I describe her as red-faced, throwing toys, yelling, and stomping around the room, you get a picture of her anger.

Describing a facial expression or a gesture is often necessary. Do his eyes light up when he smiles at his toddler? Does she stare at the ground when her mother scolds her for stealing from the cookie jar? Did silent tears roll down her cheeks when she lost her pet, or did her chest heave with sobs? Was he leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed? These examples evoke an image in your mind. They show the action.

Become a people watcher. Observe actions and facial expressions at school, in church, on the streets, and in restaurant. Write them down and practice painting the image with words so your reader sees what you have seen.

Exercise:

Show these actions in a paragraph without naming the emotion.

Joy
Anger
Fear
Sorrow

Writing Lesson 25 – Use Comparisons to Show

naomi — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 09:00:15 +0000

Using Comparisons Brings Life to Dead Adjectives

Whether you are writing a short story, a novel, or a non-fiction essay, you will need to give description, and often times to do so you will use comparison. It’s been said that “nothing means anything except as compared to something else”. In other words, if you say, “The house was big,” you make the reader ask, how big? Compared to what? If you tell them that the trip was long, they’ll want to know how long. Compared to what? If you say the job was hard, they’ll inquire, how hard? Compared to what? If you envision a beautiful dress and say that it was very blue, your reader will say, what kind of blue? Compared to what?

Comparisons are called similes and metaphors. You use them to help the reader visualize something they couldn’t see before, or to explain something that is unknown by showing them something that is known. For example, rather than saying the house was big, you might say that the house was as big as a castle compared to the tiny shack she lived in with her grandfather. I didn’t change the fact that the house was simply big, but saying it was “as big as a castle” to the character helped us see it the way she did. I might continue the description with something further: She wondered, did really only one family live inside? There were so many windows and walkways leading to doors on either end that it seemed surely two or three families must have apartments inside.

Or how about that dress? What kind of blue was it? Blue like the sky on a cloudless day, or deep blue, like dusk on a summer’s night? Maybe it was as blue as the sapphire necklace the hero gave her.

He went on a long trip . . . Well; it might be helpful to know what kind of story we’re telling. Say we’re talking about a Tom Sawyer type individual, who grew up never getting far from his home on the river. Maybe a long trip would simply be to the next town, twenty miles away. Maybe we’d say, “It was the longest trip of his life, being as how he’d never been past Cooley’s Ridge before” – kind of like when the hobbits had never gone outside the shire . . .

When we use like or as, we’ve used a simile. We are saying that something is similar to something. When we compare something even more boldly, we use a metaphor. We say something is indeed something else, even though it physically cannot be true. For instance, instead of using a simile to say, “It looked like a storm was brewing between his brows”, (though that’s pretty good) we might say, “A storm brewed between his brows.” It tells us the same thing — that someone is getting angry — but it does the job a little more forcefully.

Good fiction, and even good non-fiction, makes ample use of good comparisons while not becoming so heavy handed with them that we can’t see the story for the metaphor. You can overdo a good thing. The simple fact is that using comparison helps to put things in context. It helps to make your point, to clarify a picture, to put the reader in the scene or sense the sight, the smell, and the feel of what you’re showing them. It helps the writer to accomplish the one thing that should always be the writers’ mantra: Show me what it looks, feels, tastes, smells, sounds like; don’t just tell me that it does.

EXERCISE:

Search through your current work-in-progress for places that comparison would bring more visualization to the story. See if you can bring think of metaphors or similes that would liven up boring adjectives that merely tell.

Also, as you read for pleasure, note comparisons that authors are giving you to help you live in the story.

Writing Lesson 12 – Creating Inner Conflict

Teri Dawn Smith — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 09:00:35 +0000

Creating Emotion in Writing

Almost every writing class or craft book will tell you the same thing: fiction must create a compelling emotional experience. The problem is these teachers also let you know that if your character cries, the reader probably won’t.

So how do you build this emotion? Simply writing highly emotional phrases such as her heart pounded inside her chest won’t do the trick. Naming the emotion won’t work either. (She was angry.) You need instead to build warring emotions inside the character.

Remember the goal and motivation from Lesson One? Write it down again. Make sure the goal is concrete and difficult to reach. You need the concrete goal so the reader will know whether or not the hero obtains it. Sometimes students tell me their hero just wants to live a peaceable life. Personally, I think they need a more precise goal. Dig deeper.

Now that you’ve got a strong goal, write the opposite of that goal. How could your hero want these two opposite things? Suppose your hero wants to stop a villain from robbing a bank. Why might he not want to stop it? What if the thief was his younger brother? He wants to stop the robbery, but he doesn’t want to expose his own brother. Now you have warring emotions building inside the hero. Force him to make a choice: do the honest thing and stop the robbery or betray his own brother.

Forcing your hero to take a journey he dislikes, such as Finding Nemo or Shrek, causes conflicting emotions. They have a pressing need to go, but they don’t really want to. Or sending him on a journey he really wants, but placing road blocks that make him want to give up creates an emotional war inside. He wants this, but he doesn’t. Now he not only has to overcome the outer obstacles or the antagonist who hinders him, but he also has to struggle with himself.

The inner conflict of the character keeps a reader turning pages. Try it with your own hero and see if the story gains strength.

Exercise:

Pick one of your favorite books. Think about the hero’s goal. Do they have strong motives for wanting their goal? Is there also a reason for not wanting it? Can you identity the conflicting emotions within the main character?
Write down three reasons why your protagonist wants to reach his goal.
Write down three reasons why he might not want to reach the goal.
Tell me about the warring emotions of your character in the comment section below.

Writing Lesson 11 – Taste the Rainbow!

lynn — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 09:00:46 +0000

Sensory Writing is Sensational!

Reading and writing are by nature very visual activities, but most people have five senses: sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch. The more sensory perceptions you are able to engage in your writing, the more your reader will be able to experience your story almost first-hand. That’s a very good thing! Stories that seem real have a tendency to suck us right into the action. Learn to enhance sensory perception by tickling your readers’ other senses, and you’ll write a story they can’t put down.

Let’s expand our imaginations a little.

How would you describe a color to someone who could not see? What might red sound like? How would purple smell? Can you taste orange? If you touched blue, would it feel cold or hot? Would pink feel hard or soft?

Exercise:

Pick a color. Close your eyes and let your imagination wander. Jot down any metaphors that come to mind that would describe how that color smells, tastes, sounds, or feels.
Now pick another color and try again!
Please feel free to post any examples you come up with!

Below you’ll find some examples compiled from my writing students at the Brazos Valley Co-op.

White: Feels like a swan’s soft down feathers and fluffy snow. It tastes sweet like marshmallows on hot chocolate. It smells like clean clothes and freshly folded laundry.

Silver: Sounds like a sword being drawn out of a sheath

Gray: Feels like depression, cold, metal and loneliness. It sounds like rain and a cold wind. It feels heavy and coarse like wool or horse hair. It is like a mystery, tumbling, swirling like smoke. Gray sounds like a deep bell ringing. It smells like gunpowder and steel. It rings in your ears like the dispatch of cannon and musketry. It tastes bitter, like ashes in your mouth. Gray is a war ship, silent, slipping up on its prey. It is history and tradition. It is a secret—just a whisper, floating on a wafting breeze.

Black: is the feeling of emptiness and sorrow—cold, alone, hopeless, desperate. It sounds like quiet whispers of despair. It feels and smells like tar. It is a bottomless pit falling into eternity. Black tastes like licorice. Black is still, glassy water. Black is magnetic. It feels like polished granite. Black is a snake hissing before it strikes. It is like a spilled bottle of ink, seeping into all the dark little corners and crevices. It is your arch-enemy’s cold, cruel heart. It tastes smooth, rich, and bittersweet. Black shouts volumes with the mysterious voice of silence. It lingers in the tiny nooks and crannies of that old abandoned house down the lane. Black feels like nothingness. It envelops the entirety of space. Black is nowhere and everywhere. Black is encompassing.

Brown: sounds like the coffee grinder. Brown smells like burning cedar and hot cocoa. It feels like the rough bark on a tree. Brown sounds like a song on an old violin.

Pink: is a baby’s blanket, warm and comforting. It is the softest cloud. Pink feels like a caress. It is smooth like a rose petal. It tastes like cotton candy. It smells like a strawberry. Pink sounds like a silk skirt swishing around. It sounds like a giggle. Pink is the color of happiness.

Red: is vibrant and hot. It smells like blood. It sounds like a fire engine. Red is fast. Red is how your tongue feels after eating something spicy. It tastes like chili peppers. Red feels like walking barefooted on a hot sidewalk. It is that deep, warm, and exuberant feeling you get when you’re with someone you love. Red is passionate. Red smells like Valentine’s Day candies. Red feels like a sunburn. Red is clever, witty, vivacious, and subtly smart. It tastes spicy and sweet, like an apple with a touch of cinnamon. Red is juicy. It enhances and defines, excites and inspires, surprises and sooths. Red can be avoided, but it cannot be ignored. The stain of red cannot be removed. Red is unexpected

Orange: tastes like a popsicle on a hot July day. Orange is a liquid color—like orange juice. It smells like citrus—wet and tangy. It feels vibrant, bold, full of life. It is a beautiful sunset shared with friends.

Yellow: is how you feel when the whole day is going your way. It tastes tart like a freshly cut lemon or like cool lemonade on a hot day. It feels like sunshine gently pouring down on your face on a warm June morning. Yellow feels happy. It sounds like the birds waking up. It smells like bananas or like hay in the feeding trough. It feels soft like fuzzy chicks. If yellow were a person, she would dance everywhere she went.

Green: feels like the morning dew on the grass—cool on bare feet. It smells like the lawn after it has been mown. It feels like moss on the forest floor. It is the rainforest or a lush meadow or ferns or a greenhouse. Green sounds like clear crystalline chimes. It tastes like honeydew, limes, kiwi, tart apples, and sour pickles. Green feels refreshing, composed, and calming. It smells like fresh cut herbs or spearmint gum–clean, and relaxing. Green sounds like grasshoppers chirping.

Blue: feels like diving into a swimming pool on a hot summer day. It is the Christmas wind on your nose. Blue brings summer and winter together. It feels like the the first brisk morning when you walk outside and have to go back for a coat. Blue tastes like ice water. It feels like rain—a cloudburst. Blue is an iceberg. It is slippery like fish scales. It is like a gulp of fresh air. Blue sounds like the ocean—like waves splashing on the shore; smells like saltwater. It sounds water gurgling in a brook. It sounds like the wind. Blue smells like chlorine. It sounds like raindrops pitter-pattering on my rooftop.

Purple: feels hard like amethyst. It smells like oriental spices.

Writing Lesson 9 – Liven It Up!

naomi — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 09:00:56 +0000

Show, Don’t Tell

If there’s one thing you will be told as a writer over and over again, it’s Show, Don’t Tell. So, if you haven’t heard that said before, allow me to be the first. What does it mean to show and not tell? It means to let the reader see, hear, taste, smell, and feel what’s going on without you, the writer, telling them by labeling the action or the feeling. You do this by:

Getting into action with active voice – using meaningful, lively verbs instead of lazy ones.
Murdering passive voice by deleting “be” verbs (was/were/be/been/being)
Eliminating adjectives that flower up the page without really telling us much.

This can all sound confusing, so let me show you what I’m talking about. Here’s an example that we can fix:

Kennedy was hot, sweaty, and super tired. But she kept on running, determined to at least finish the marathon.

Did you see Kennedy in your mind’s eye? Smell her? Feel sympathy for her? Probably not. But instead of telling us she’s hot and sweaty, why not show us? First, let’s get rid of that lazy, passive voice “be” verb “was” and replace it with a verb that sizzles.

Heat flooded Kennedy’s entire body, from the flush of her forehead to the stinging blisters on her toes. Her muscles burned and her shirt with the crinkled number pinned to it stuck to her belly and back as she kept pumping her legs. (Now, let’s lose that lame adjective phrase “super tired”. Let’s show it!) Her legs, like rubber, threatened to give out on her, and she clutched her side with one hand to try and quell a growing cramp. “Why am I killing myself?” she muttered with a gasp. Kennedy blinked hard and fast, then thrust out her chin and commanded her knees to lift. She would finish this race – no matter what it took.

Did you notice how that quick blink and the sticking out of her chin showed her determination, instead of telling us she had it? Did you also notice that I never used the actual words tired, sweaty, or hot, but you could tell? That’s showing!

The thing about showing vs. telling is that it actually expands the scene and brings the reader more deeply into it. As a developing writer, perhaps you’ve worried about whether you’ll think of enough things to say or to happen to fill up a story or a book. That’s a pretty common concern. But by concentrating on showing us action and feelings instead of simply labeling them, those worries will take care of themselves. Scenes will grow naturally, and will help a reader to feel that they’re inside them.

So, whenever you’re tempted to say she felt sad, or angry, or frightened, or lonely, have the character do something that shows us that instead. Rather than describing a person (or place) as spooky or generous or obnoxious, show us why that’s so.

EXERCISES:

Pull out something you’ve written and make it bleed! (That’s writer-speak for marking it up a LOT with a red pen.) Cross out all the passive voice “be” verbs you can find. Change phrases like “she ran”. Use specific, visual verbs. For instance, Kennedy probably didn’t look like she was running. She probably looked more like she was plodding along.
Examine a scene in a book that you like. How did the writer show instead of tell what was happening or how the character felt? What specific, lively verbs did they use? Copy them down.
Try writing a short scene about a girl discovering an important letter. It could be old or new. It could take place in a contemporary, historical, or futuristic setting. It could be written to her or to someone else. You decide. Show us what she thinks, feels, and what she does without labeling her thoughts or feelings, or naming her actions specifically.

Writing Lesson 8 – What’s Inside Counts

melinda — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 09:00:57 +0000

Creating Unforgettable Characters, Part 2

One goal as a writer is to create characters that become like full-fledged humans living and moving inside your story world or setting. They possess the traits and beliefs expressed by people in everyday life. You don’t want them to appear like cardboard dolls you move around in the story.

In the last lesson, you gave a ‘skin deep’ description. You chose pictures and wrote about the external features of two characters. Today you’ll ‘flesh them out’ with emotions.

Writing exercise

You’ll need a separate page for the male and the female picture you chose. These are your main characters. If you have secondary characters in your book, you might do these same exercises for them.

What is their occupation?

Lawyer, Fireman, FBI Agent, Thief, Artist, Musician, Homemaker, Accountant, Pilot, Teacher

Add descriptive adjectives. List 10 characteristics to make the person come alive. You might use traits you see in yourself or a friend.

Think of words like elegant, bossy, creative, harsh, tense, rude, envious, flirt, immature, and self-centered.
If you saved your list of unforgettable characters from Lesson 3, add descriptive adjectives to show what makes them tick. This may help you understand why the inside counts as you recall their distinct personality traits.
Start a list of descriptive words to use in the future. I created pages with three columns where I make alphabetical lists of words to describe traits and emotions. It’s a handy reference guide (and a good way to practice your computer spread sheet skills). Add to this list when a word comes to mind that describes a person.
Become a people watcher. You’ll have a long list in no time.

Write several paragraphs that show some traits you listed for your character. Don’t use the words you’ve chosen. Show the reader the way the person acts. Concentrate on his or her speech and actions to convey the traits you gave them. For example, I’ll choose ‘shy’ and ‘nervous’ as traits for my artist named Tracy.

When the gallery owner offered to display her paintings, Tracy stared at the floor and shoved shaky hands into her pockets. Words wouldn’t come. Her mouth tasted like the dry fall leaves skittering along the sidewalk outside his shop.

These simple sentences show the shy, nervous traits without telling us. It creates a word picture of those characteristics. Learning to ‘show rather than tell’ is another important part of developing your writing skills.

In future lessons, we will discuss your characters’ goals, motivations, and conflicts. This will add more depth to the people you are creating.