You think you know what I’m going to say about show and tell, don’t you? You think I’m going to say that you should always,  show and never tell, huh?

Well, I’m not. I’m of an age where I no longer have to believe everything my teachers tell me. I’ve been in Language Arts classes since I was seven, and every time we talk about fiction writing I hear the same slogan: “Show, don’t tell.”

But I’m here in all my grown-up, self-important glory to say that any teacher who has taught their students to show and not tell has done their blessed wee ones a grave disservice.

In reality, writing well takes a skillful combination of both.

Why They Tell You to Show

There are times when the best thing you can do for your story is plunge your readers so far into it that they come out the other side wondering why real life is so dull.

Are there scenes in books you’ve read that make you tingle every time you reread them? Is there a scene so well described that you remember it years after you’ve finished the book?

That’s good. That’s what teachers want.

It’s too easy to reduce writing to the bare bones of story. Story is the framework, yes, but “The king died” is technically a story in itself. We have a character and an action . . . Yeah. It’s a story.

But it’s not a good story.

Showing is essential to fiction writing because it brings it to life. Do you ever feel like a character you’re writing about feels distant or even difficult? Sit down in front of a blank sheet of paper and describe him or her. Not,“He has blue eyes and yellow hair and a mustache.”

For one thing, no one should have a mustache.

For a second thing, don’t just tell what your character looks like. Show it. Use elaborate metaphors and concrete language. Describe the way he or she moves rather than using an easy adverb. What does it mean to be graceful? What does it look like for a character to walk like a cat?

Teach yourself how to plunge so deeply into your own imagination that you can see what you want your reader to see.

Why We Tell Stories

Your teachers focused on teaching you to show because telling is something that we all do naturally. We have to learn how to show because paying that much attention to nonexistent details (like those found in fiction) isn’t something innate.

But once you’ve learned how to show, once you can write in such a way that your reader sees what you see in your mind, then you need to relearn how to tell.

Showful writing an art, but telling stories is a craft.

Telling lies at the heart of fiction. Yes, the showing is lovely, but showing is only effective if there’s a good story to show. And that’s why we call it telling stories.

Once you can see your story in your head, then it’s time to decide what needs to be shown and what can be delivered in easily-digestible tablet form. As a writer, you need to learn how to read your own work critically in order to see what is better left shown and what is just as meaningful when told.

Countless stories begin with “Once upon a time” because while this phrase could be made into a showing (try it. I dare ya), it doesn’t need to be to make a story better.

If your character is doing something that doesn’t reveal anything about who he or she is, see if you can summarize. If your character eats like a slob, for instance, show us just what sloppiness is to that individual. But if your character eats because she’s hungry, just say so and move on to what’s important.

Summary, the telling of the story, can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Use it as often or as infrequently as you need to, but always remember to use it wisely.

Why You Should Probably Still Listen to Your Teacher

For one thing, they probably know you better than I do. We don’t all learn the same way, and if a teacher wants you to do your best to show everything after reading your writing, that teacher is probably not pulling the advice out of a hat.

No matter how essential the story is to your writing, it’s often the showing that lingers in readers’ minds. Make your writing powerful; give your readers something to remember.

Speaking of memory, here’s an example:

He remembered kissing her. It had been a good kiss.

That’s okay, y’know? No one’s going to shoot you over that last sentence (unless the “you” is he and “she” is somebody’s wife). But if you’re telling about something meaningful, do your best to let your writing convey just how meaningful it was.

What makes a kiss good? Show me.

He remembered kissing her. Her mouth was soft. Her lips were warm and compliant, as she always was, but they were also strong. She guided the kiss with gentle nudges, with slow movements of her head to make his mouth go where she wanted it.

Telling gets the story across. Showing makes it stick. It gives us a deeper grasp of characters and a more concrete grasp of the events going on in a scene.

Write scenes that are worth remembering. Put them together in the framework of a story that deserves to be told.