[This piece is so freshly written that the ink, if it were printed, would still be drying. It’s my thoughts on the subject of the value of “telling” in a writing world dominated by “showing”. I relate, here my own experiences as a writer and, being late at night here in Adelaide, South Australia, it hasn’t had the rigorous checks from the Indie Scriptorium team, or my mother. Please excuse any mistakes. They will be corrected in the next day or two.]
Telling vs Showing
I remember my early days in Writers’ group. Every time one of the members had a “telling passage” or a “was” in their sentence, the mentor went into meltdown.
So memorable her reaction to such writing offences, that, like the good writing students that we were, we avoided “telling” and “wases” as if they were the plague.
This “showing’ trend has flavoured storytelling since, I’m guessing, the advent of visual media, television and movies. So, at least the last hundred years. Before such time, literature was soaked in “telling”, passive voice and let’s not forget, the stodgy weasel words of the adverb and adjective kind. Read old news reports from the nineteenth century which you can on Trove, and you’ll see what I mean—weasel words as thick as treacle.
Why? In the past before television and movies, readers relied on minute descriptions to visualise the story. However, these days, “telling” all that detail sends the modern-day reader asleep. These days, readers prefer and enjoy “showing”. After all, isn’t visual media all showing?
Now, showing is fine. I attempted to find an article on the value of telling, especially since I believed that historical pieces and memoir would be more accurate and effective as telling—especially if a reader is researching and needs to gather facts as quickly and efficiently as possible.
Could I find it?
No. Na-na!
Gone with the wind and tide of proverbial algorithms to the bottom of the sea of blogs and posts. Thus, galvanising the rule that “showing” trumps “telling”.
So, as I was saying, for years I trained my storytelling craft to show and not tell. My first published novel Mission of the Unwilling is testimony to the triumph of showing over telling at all costs, an exemplar of page-turning, heart racing, showing and non-stop action in space.
The feedback? It was exhausting! Too fast-paced and gory images that the poor reader can never erase from their mind. Oh, well, the first is the worst, so they say.
As time progressed, the mentor moved on and the writers’ group grew up, I mean, matured as writers. Telling and the word “was” crept into our prose. When questioned, the more experienced, wiser writers replied, “What’s wrong with was?” Or “Telling moves the story on—as long as it’s not too much.”
I began to notice television shows such as “Arrested Development” and also famous people authoring their memoirs, use loads of “wases”, have heaps of telling, weasel words galore, plus plenty of passive sentences. And do you know what? I enjoyed watching these shows and reading these narratives.
But still, I soldiered on with showing with the avoidance of telling. I produced another four books which I published on Amazon. Yet, as time progressed, the occasional “was” crept in and stayed. Some telling did too. As did the weasel words. Was I getting slack in my old writing-age? No, such techniques balanced the storytelling and give the prose flow and rhythm.
Then, last year, I pulled out an old manuscript from 2010. Each week I revised, edited and then read a chapter from this story. No one complained. They nodded and said, “We can’t wait to hear what happens next.” I gave them all a completed copy to read as beta readers.
And here is where the story of that old manuscript becomes unhinged. Elsie King and my mother also received a beta copy. Now, keep in mind that this manuscript was written in the days when “show” was at its zenith in my writers’ group, and “telling” was to be hunted down and burnt at the stake.
Elsie’s report on the manuscript was scathing. She pulled the book to shreds and, apart from the idea I had, there was nothing redeemable in the manuscript.
Then, the nail in the coffin, mum started reading the story. “This is a disaster,” she said. “the prose is all jerky.”
Needless to say, I will not inflict the story on you readers for another ten years or so. Will take that long to fix it all up.
We figured out, however, that the main problem with this manuscript was that there was too much telling. Again, like Mission of the Unwilling, too fast paced with no place for the reader to rest. As for the “jerky” prose, that was also down to too much showing to avoid the passive sentences and “was”.
I might add here, I put the manuscript through the Microsoft Word editor, and it didn’t have anything good to say about the words written.
To conclude, what I learnt through this experience, was that telling does have its place. Telling is useful for pacing and to give the reader a rest after fast-paced action or high drama. In addition, telling, the use of the occasional adverb or adjective, or even “was” can help the words flow in the art of storytelling.
© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2024
Feature Photo: Over-Exposed Native pine branches, Alligator Gorge Flinders Ranges © L.M. Kling 2024
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