Showing and Telling: Why “Show Don’t Tell” Is Bad Advice

Showing and Telling: Why “Show Don’t Tell” Is Bad Advice

“Show don’t tell” is the advice every writing student receives. Teachers repeat it like a mantra. Critique groups circle telling passages with red ink. The message becomes absolute: showing good, telling bad. Always show. Never tell.

This is nonsense.

Novels require both showing and telling. All showing would take 400,000 words to cover what 80,000 can accomplish with strategic telling. All telling would produce a summary, not a story. The craft isn’t choosing showing over telling. The craft is knowing when each serves better.

I’ve written dozens of novels across multiple genres, and the show/tell balance is one of the most consequential decisions I make on every page. Shield of Ashes handles it differently than Killer Cuts, which handles it differently than Peacekeeper. The balance shifts based on genre, tone, pacing needs, and what each scene demands from the reader. The Showing and Telling Handbook covers this in comprehensive detail. This article covers the foundations.

When to Show

Show when you want readers to inhabit a scene. When the moment deserves lingering. When slowing down serves the story.

Emotional peaks demand showing. In Shield of Ashes, a crew discovers their interceptor missed. A city of fourteen million people just died because they failed. This moment can’t be told. The faces of crew members. Silence on the bridge. Someone’s hand trembling over controls that can’t undo anything. The weight of what they couldn’t prevent settling into bodies carrying it forever. Showing this lets readers inhabit the horror. Telling them “the crew was devastated” would be true and completely inadequate.

Transformation moments demand showing. Killer Cuts shows everything, including the murders. No telling at all. Readers watch the hairstylist and postal worker transform through actions, dialogue, and physical responses. The murders are shown. The enjoyment is shown. The psychological descent happens on the page, not in summary. Telling readers these characters became monsters who enjoyed killing would be weak. Showing readers creates complicity. They watch it happen. They can’t look away. They understand from the inside.

Character-defining moments demand showing. When a character realizes the depth of a betrayal, when a relationship fractures, when someone makes a choice that changes everything: these can’t be summarized. Readers need to experience the moment alongside the character. The physical sensation of understanding, the world tilting, the recalibration of everything they thought they knew. Tell this and readers understand intellectually. Show this and readers feel it viscerally.

When to Tell

Tell when tension is high and plot needs to move quickly. When lingering would kill momentum. When information matters but dramatization doesn’t.

Transitions demand telling. Three weeks pass between chapters. Telling handles this in a sentence. Showing three weeks of daily activity would be absurd. Characters travel from one location to another. Telling handles this unless the journey itself matters to the story.

Technical information often deserves telling. How Imperial STL technology works matters for Peacekeeper’s plot. Showing this through characters experiencing it works for initial encounters. But sixteen books of space travel can’t dramatize every journey. Eventually you tell: “The ship emerged three days later at the edge of the Corvax system.” Readers have the information. Story continues.

A missile launches in Shield of Ashes. The launch itself gets told. Readers don’t need to inhabit the launch sequence. They need the information: a missile is airborne. Telling delivers this efficiently so the story can move to what matters, the human consequences.

Backstory readers need for context gets told efficiently, not dramatized in flashbacks interrupting momentum. Unless the backstory reveal is itself an emotional peak (a character learning something devastating about their past), telling delivers context without derailing the present narrative.

The Information Hierarchy

Not all information deserves equal treatment. The question for every piece of information in your story is: does this need to be experienced or just known?

Must be shown: emotional peaks, character transformations, relationship-defining moments, climactic events. Anything readers need to feel, not just know.

Can be told: transitions, technical information, backstory context, secondary events. Anything readers need to know but don’t need to experience.

Can be omitted: anything not serving character, plot, or theme. Just because something happens doesn’t mean readers need to know it happened. Selecting wisely serves readers better than including everything.

Show/Tell as Pacing Control

The balance between showing and telling is one of your primary pacing tools.

Want to slow down? Show. Dramatize. Let readers inhabit moments fully. A conversation summarizable in a sentence takes a full scene when shown. This isn’t padding if the scene earns its length through emotional weight or character development.

Want to speed up? Tell. Summarize. Deliver information efficiently and move on. Three months of travel becomes one sentence. A secondary event becomes a brief mention, not a dramatized scene. This isn’t laziness if the material doesn’t deserve full treatment.

The balance shifts constantly through your novel. Show heavily in character-establishing scenes. Tell efficiently through transitional passages. Show again when emotional stakes peak. Tell when plot needs to advance rapidly. The rhythm of showing and telling creates the rhythm of the reading experience.

The Most Common Mistake

The most damaging show/tell error isn’t choosing the wrong one. It’s doing both at the same time.

A character’s action demonstrates their psychology. You show the moment effectively. Then you add a paragraph explaining what the action reveals. This double-coverage insults reader intelligence. It breaks the spell of immersion by reminding readers an author is mediating their experience.

Trust your showing. If showing is clear, readers understand. If showing isn’t clear, the solution is better showing, not supplementary telling. Amateur writers often distrust readers because they distrust themselves. They’re not sure their showing is clear enough, so they add telling as backup. This weakens both. Showing loses power because telling undercuts it. Telling seems redundant because showing already communicated.

Instead of: “Her hands trembled as she read the letter. She was devastated by the news.” Cut the second sentence. The trembling hands did the work. Let them.

AI and the Telling Problem

If you’re using AI tools to assist your writing, you need to know this: AI tells. Relentlessly.

Ask AI to help with a scene and it will explain what characters are feeling instead of showing feelings through action and dialogue. It will summarize events that deserve dramatization. It will tell readers what to think about moments that should speak for themselves. “She felt betrayed” instead of showing betrayal’s physical and behavioral manifestations. “He was angry” instead of showing anger through clenched jaw and bitten-back words and hands gripping the table edge.

Fighting this requires explicit instruction. “Show this scene through action, dialogue, and physical sensation. No internal summary statements. No telling readers what characters feel. Let behavior and reaction demonstrate emotion.” Even then, AI drifts toward telling. Training pulls it toward explanation.

Review AI-assisted work specifically for telling intrusions. Strip out summaries. Cut explanations. Keep dramatized moments. Often AI produces excellent showing buried under unnecessary telling. Your job is excavation. The Showing and Telling Handbook covers this in detail, including specific prompts for converting AI-generated telling into effective showing.

Going Deeper

This article covers the foundations. For comprehensive instruction on show/tell balance at novel scale, including scene-versus-summary decisions, backstory integration, pacing control, and the specific challenges of showing violence and emotional extremity, see the Showing and Telling Handbook. For examples of showing and telling in practice, see Show Don’t Tell and Showing and Telling. All available at Master of Worlds.

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