I had an interesting discussion on a forum for visual effects experts the other day. At issue: I had mentioned the cardinal storytelling rule “show don’t tell”. Somewhat to my surprise, someone chimed in that “show don’t tell” made no sense to them.

As examples, they cited wordplay gags from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, a radio, TV, and novel series that I love.

ZAPHOD

I am so hip I have difficulty seeing over my pelvis!

They noted a great scene – delivered completely in dialogue – from The Hateful Eight.

And of course they pointed out commonplace exposition, such as when a character needs to deliver important information to the audience. If, for example, two people are to meet at 8pm in the railway station, do we need to show a picture of a clock and a map, rather than simply deliver a tight line of dialogue?

This reminded me that a lot of people fundamentally misunderstand what “show don’t tell” means. Every one of the examples above represents great – or at least important – dialogue in some form or another.

None of it has anything to do with “show don’t tell”.

“Show don’t tell” is not about images vs. text.

What “show don’t tell” is about is the revelation of deeper truth. It’s about demonstrating things beyond what the audience sees, hears, and reads.

Show-ers and tell-ers

I think visual storytellers such as screenwriters and directors have trouble understanding this idea because their medium is inherently about showing. So the “rule” feels bizarre: they’re having a conversation right there on the screen! How is that not showing?

But the “show don’t tell” admonition is not a principle confined to visual storytellers…novelists get the same advice. And novelists live in a sea of words. How can I not tell when everything I do is just words on a page?

Should all film dialogue go away? Should we show a map and clock instead of that tight line of dialogue? Of course not. Doing this would quickly turn a film into a mime show.

Should novelists include pictures in their books? If I have to show, surely I need pictures!

Again, this fundamentally misconstrues the idea behind of the rule.

“Show don’t tell” means “demonstrate”

There’s nothing wrong with “telling” when what you’re telling is a joke, like the ones in Hitchhikers. And there’s a reason the words “monologue” and “soliloquy” exist: under the right circumstances, these can be powerful story-telling tools (I think Shakespeare would agree), and simple exposition is a requirement of almost any story. I’d even argue that an inner monologue – a tool decried by many writing instructors because it is so often misused – can have its place if applied correctly.

“Show don’t tell” has nothing to do with any of that.

What it means is that it’s almost always more effective to demonstrate an assertion rather than to simply state that assertion.

In fact, if I were to rephrase the principle, I might go with:

“Demonstrate, don’t remonstrate.”

Demonstration is a process by which we investigate meaning through evidence. Remonstration is simply stating our opinion. There’s nothing inherently wrong with remonstration – with telling – but by its nature it lacks credibility. Demonstration is more forceful, more convincing, because it underpins the assertion with evidence.

It’s the difference between saying “You’re wrong! I believe X!” vs. “Here’s a series of empirical, double-blind studies which back up my point.”

Examples: Star Wars and Napoleon

Consider if George Lucas had simply asserted that “Darth Vader is a bad guy” vs. showing him ruthlessly interrogating a soldier until he snaps the man’s neck.

In the former case we’ve simply stated it. That’s OK. I’m sure a lot of people think Darth’s not the nicest guy…Obi-wan tells us he’s evil. But by showing a concrete example we understand his ruthlessness; we know he’s a formidable villain and the telling is greatly reinforced.

While Star Wars did this well, the recent film Napoleon, I suggest, did not. The latter is not a bad film by any means (watch the trailer…it’s not short on spectacle!), but it was ultimately disappointing in driving home a core message of the story.

Josephine tells Napoleon “you’re nothing without me”. This is important: we’re meant to understand that her influence is fundamental to his success. But walking away from Napoleon I felt profoundly unconvinced. She tells Napoleon, but the film never follows up with evidence to support her statement. The story remonstrated that he was nothing without her, but if this was demonstrated I entirely missed it. It’s fine for her to tell…but the telling rings hollow if not backed up by that supporting evidence.

As such, Napoleon makes a great example of why “show don’t tell” is such a cardinal rule of writing.

Words do not equal telling

I suspect that the reason this is such a hard lesson for writers (and others) to learn comes down to equating words with “telling” and images with “showing”. We can all think of cases where we’ve been “told” (i.e., presented with words) brilliantly. 

• “I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.”
• “I’ll be back!”
• “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
• “We’ll always have Paris.”

But in every one of these cases, we’re actually being shown something: truth is revealed beyond the literal meaning of the words themselves.

To put it succinctly: the use of words is not equivalent to “telling”. Words “show” when they demonstrate more than what they literally say.

• Marc Antony shows through dialogue that he’s ambitious and clever, able to turn a eulogy into a political weapon.
• The Terminator returns. His bold action – driving a car into a police station – profoundly counterpoints the prosaic statement. He shows us what a badass he is.
• Jane Austen demonstrates the tone of her story by opening Pride and Prejudice with a line absolutely dripping with irony.
• Through his self-sacrifice, Rick demonstrates that the man Ilsa knew in Paris still lives within the hardened cynic we see in Casablanca.

As a visual corollary, imagine an insert picture in a movie. If all I get from this picture is “oh, the actress is Diane Keaton” then the film maker has missed an opportunity. While visual, the information is strictly literal. Telling, not showing. But does the woman in the picture look old or young, haggard or vital? Is she happy, sad, angry? Was the photo shot surreptitiously? Is it fresh or faded? These are opportunities to deepen the audience’s understanding. To show.

Must you always “show don’t tell”?

Well…

As I’ve already mentioned, there are times when straightforward telling makes a lot of sense. When delivering a joke or exposition, for example. But the core of the advice remains. Consider, for instance, why you’re telling the joke or transmitting the exposition. Which joke are you telling? Would a different joke more effectively make the point?

Let’s examine this scene from the TV Show The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

It’s Midge’s first time doing standup. It’s accidental. She’s drunk, betrayed, angry. She barely knows what she’s doing. The jokes are fun…but everything about them is showing us who she is. Not merely that she’s a born comedian (and a spoiled Jewish girl from the Upper West Side), but the elements that underline why she’ll be a great comedian.

It’s pure dialogue. It’s also pure showing.

So when you think about moments that could be “nothing but telling” consider if there isn’t some other way to get the information across. Something that works harder and dives deeper. If there isn’t a way to integrate showing into telling.

So when conveying that information about a meeting at 8pm inside the railway station…

Maybe scratch it in blood on a bubble gum wrapper. Sing it out as a Beatles tune. Whisper it with seductive allure. Any of these can show something, adding to what’s literally being told.

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Hopefully I’ve “shown” why this rule of storytelling is so important. If you found this interesting, please consider subscribing to my blog.