Show, Don’t Tell Is Advice About Adjectives
Show, don’t tell. Every writing class says it. Very few explain what the difference is in the sentence, which is why it is so often heard and so rarely applied.
Here is the concrete version: telling states a conclusion; showing supplies the evidence and lets the reader reach it. And the conclusion is nearly always sitting in an adjective.
The same moment, both ways
- Telling: She was nervous.
- Showing: She checked her phone, put it face down, and picked it up again.
- Telling: The room was neglected.
- Showing: A dead spider lay in the light fitting.
- Telling: He was an arrogant man.
- Showing: He introduced himself twice, and both times gave his title.
The telling versions are not badly written. They are shorter and clearer, and there are places where that is exactly right. What they do not do is make the reader feel they have noticed something.
Which adjectives are telling
Not all of them. This is the part the advice usually skips, and skipping it is what produces writers who nervously delete every adjective they own.
Adjectives that report an observation are fine. A red door. A wooden chair. A tall woman. These are things a camera would record. They are showing.
Adjectives that report a judgement are telling. A beautiful woman. An awkward silence. A disappointing meal. A camera cannot record beauty, awkwardness or disappointment. Someone has evaluated, and handed you the verdict instead of the evidence.
The test: could a camera capture it? If yes, keep it. If no, you are asserting a conclusion, and the reader has been given no reason to accept it beyond your say-so.
Why showing works
Conclusions the reader reaches are believed. Told that a character is intelligent, the reader files it as a claim. Shown the character noticing something nobody else noticed, they conclude it themselves — and people do not argue with their own conclusions.
Detail is specific; judgement is generic. Every nervous person is nervous in the same word. Only one of them checks a phone and puts it face down. The specific detail is the only part that could not have been written about anyone else.
It respects the reader. Being told what to think about a scene you have just been shown is faintly insulting, and readers register it as such even when they could not say why.
When telling is right
The advice is stated as an absolute and should not be. Telling is the correct choice more often than creative writing courses admit.
For anything unimportant. It was a boring meeting and move on. Showing a boring meeting means writing a boring meeting, and the reader will not thank you for the fidelity.
To cover time. The next three years were difficult. You cannot show three years. Summary is a tool, not a failure.
To control pace. Showing is slow. A whole book of it is exhausting, and the reader loses the shape of the story in the accumulation of detail.
In non-fiction, most of the time. A report that shows rather than tells is a report nobody has time to read. Business, technical and academic writing want the conclusion first — that is the entire convention, and it exists for good reasons.
The practical version
Do not delete your adjectives. Sort them.
Find the ones carrying a judgement rather than an observation. For each, ask whether this moment matters. If it does, replace the verdict with the evidence. If it does not, leave the verdict alone and spend the space somewhere it counts.
That is the whole technique, and it is a good deal more useful than show, don’t tell — which is itself, as advice goes, a piece of telling.
Checked against Merriam-Webster, the Chicago Manual of Style and the AP Stylebook. Spotted an error? Tell us — see our editorial policy.
