Let me read you an excerpt of a manuscript I was sent recently:

“Jonathan was frightened of women. His heart pounded at the terrifying sight of her naked breasts. But suddenly, his fear disappeared. He touched the breasts and was glad he’d found a woman that reminded him so much of his mother.”

The first thing that stands out to me is that this piece doesn’t really paint a very vivid picture. Unlike most writing about breasts, it doesn’t really make me feel anything. I’m told the man is frightened, that the breasts are terrifying, but there isn’t much evidence to back up these claims.

Show don’t tell is one of the golden rules of writing. It’s usually the first lesson of any writing seminar, though in my seminars, I always spend the first lesson asking the class to write down their greatest fears and directions to their home address. In any case, it’s something new writers like the author of the above passage, Dan Schultz of Tempe, Arizona who asked to remain anonymous, struggle with. We’ll break down what “show don’t tell” actually means and how to best use this advice in our writing on this edition of Stories’ Matter.

In the spirit of this article, instead of telling you how to write, I will show you examples from students of mine that illustrate new writers’ struggles. I’ve also provided their emails in the video in case you’d like to send them words of advice and encouragement.

Our first excerpt is from Doug Martzel of Nome, Alaska, who was writing about his dead wife, a topic he incidentally kept coming back to. He writes:

“She was a meticulous woman and could get overbearing at times, with ginger hair and pallid skin.”

Mistake 1: Using adjectives, instead of action and details

So a big mistake Doug mistakes, besides failing to get over it and write about a more interesting topic, is that there’s nothing to grab onto. I mean, if he’s really hoping to bring his wife back to life in his writing, it would be more memorable to show her being meticulous or provide a detail about her gingerness that’s important to her character.

After a lot of coaching and back and forths, I got Doug to brainstorm specific ways his wife was meticulous. Eventually, he came up with this:

“Every Friday night after work, I’d come home to find her waiting in the bathroom with a bottle of Barbasol, a straight razor and some antiseptic. I’d then strip nude and sit in this seatless chair with special leg restraints. For the next forty minutes, I read the newspaper while she shaved every part of my body below the nose: beard, neck, chest, arms, legs, testicles, anus.”

Doug and the rest of the class were a little uncomfortable with this passage—in fact, if I remember correctly, I had to read it aloud after Doug refused–but I told them that a great writer knows the power of specificity.

Janet Kowalski from Davenport, Iowa was a big fan of erotic fantasy thrillers. This excerpt comes from an exercise where I asked the class to write an allegory for the immigration crisis:

“Diane saw the potion on the table, drank it and one second later she fell to the floor.”  

Mistake 2: Using weak verbs

I don’t want to pick on Janet too much here because her story captured the crisis, convincingly describing what happens when you just let anybody in your country. But the above sentence just doesn’t evoke any feelings.

With some simple substitutions it’s much more effective:

“Diane gazed into the bubbling potion, guzzled it and instantly crashed to the floor.”

Just by changing the verbs we understand that Diane is mesmerized by the drink, that she craves it and that it inflicts violence on her. Now this might seem strange, but in her story, a cartel of demons has flooded the potion market with a superstrong mind-control drug that has contaminated all the other party potions and it’s all Joe Biden’s fault.

The next excerpt comes from Jamil Baqri, a young writer from Denver, Colorado who showed a ton of promise, but unfortunately didn’t have enough money to pay for more than six weeks of classes. He writes:

“Jennifer took the charge of the meeting. She wasn’t going to let anyone get in her way. The deal had to go through.”

Mistake 3: Not using dialogue

Now, Jamil’s mistake is understandable. After all, he’s been deaf since birth and has never actually had a verbal conversation with anyone. But he knew sign language and I assume the principle is still basically the same. Plus, when I asked if he’d ever seen movies, he said yes.

Now, after Jamil’s check bounced and the people at the learning annex told me his disability insurance couldn’t cover my class fees, I instead got the rest of the class to rework Jamil’s piece. My favorite rewrite was this one:

“This is how it’s gonna go, fuckheads” Jennifer shouted as she entered the conference room. “Asking price is twenty-five million. They try to lowball you, boys, just tuck em up inside yourself.”

To me, that’s how business people sound. I can vividly picture the kind of woman Jennifer is: tight black office girl skirt, full pouty lips, tits like a pair of surface to air missiles.

Our final passage comes from Jacqueline Carlyle from Nashville, Tennessee, who was writing a short story about a woman whose husband goes off to fight in a war:

“Her wet lips parted and her tongue began to rapidly adjust its position. Swells of hot air rose up through her throat, and as she siphoned it through her larynx and set it careening around her uvula, it met her pallid teeth and crimson lips, creating odd vibrations that rose and fell in pitch. A great symphony had commenced.”

Mistake 4: Showing Too Much

Many authors like Jacqueline hear “show don’t tell” and think they can’t ever tell anything. But a story would go on forever if you only showed. As a writer, you have to decide what’s worth glossing over. For example, when I write most of my stories, I come to realize it’s not really important what the minor female characters do or say or want or feel.

After a bit of convincing, I got Jacqueline to simplify her passage to this:

“She ordered two cheese pizzas and a large onion rings.”