Showing, Telling, and Paddling Ducks

“Show, don’t tell.”

That’s the mantra that gets hammered into the head of every beginning writer. If you’ve ever taken a creative writing class or attended a writer’s conference, you’ve probably heard something along the lines of, “Don’t say ‘Sally is sad.’ Show us Sally being sad.” This leads to painting a picture of Sally’s sad expression, describing the teardrops streaking her face, and detailing Sally’s posture and movements in a way that makes it clear to readers just how unhappy Sally is.

That’s good advice, as far as it goes. The problem is that for most people, external emotional responses are just a tiny part of their actual reaction. Indeed, one of the most important things we learn as we grow from childhood to adulthood is to hide our emotions.

It’s like that famous quote, usually attributed to actor Michael Caine: “Be like a duck. Remain calm on the surface and paddle like crazy underneath.” If your characters are to come off as real people, most of their emotional reactions are going to be entirely internal. And if we only ever describe the tranquility above the surface, our readers might never guess at the frantic paddling that’s going on down below.

My Own Achilles’ Heel

I’m blessed to be in a writing group with three perceptive readers who are diligent at reminding me when I’m not telling enough. We submit our chapters to each other using Google Docs, and we use the platform’s commenting feature extensively. When my group reviews my writing, the most common response I get from them is something along the lines of, “Where’s the emotional response?”

Okay, I’ll be honest. Sometimes I just forget. What happens, I think, is that I get lazy and assume that readers will take their own emotional response to the story and project it onto the POV character. This usually falls flat. Just as often, though, I’ll write a character’s physical response but forget to dig into the inner reaction to help carry the story along.

So I submit my chapters. The next day, I’ll open up them up to see a comment from Kris: “How does she feel about what just happened?” Mike has responded to Kris with something like, “I was wondering the same thing.” Inevitably, Kelli has added, “That makes three of us.”

That’s how I know I need to go back and revise.

Show and Tell

In a guest post on, author Joshua Henkin calls “show, don’t tell” the “Great Lie of Writing Workshops.” As he explains:

“A story is not a movie is not a TV show, and I can’t tell you the number of student stories I read where I see a camera panning. Movies are a perfectly good art from [sic], and they’re better at doing some things than novels are—at showing the texture of things, for instance. But novels are better at other things. At moving around in time, for example, and at conveying material that takes place in general as opposed to specific time…. But most important, novels can describe internal psychological states, whereas movies can only suggest them through dialogue and gesture (and through the almost always contrived-seeming voiceover, which is itself a borrowing from fiction).”

Showing is good. We have to show. But the best writers also embrace telling as a technique that allows them to provide much better insight into what the duck is doing down there with its little webbed feet.

As author Lee Child says, “We’re not story showers. We’re story tellers.”

Balancing Show and Tell

I’m still learning how to use both showing and telling effectively in my own writing. Honestly, it’s been difficult for me. From my work with my writing group, though, I can single out four suggestions that have really helped me improve.

1. Keep your POV character(s) in mind.

If you’re writing in first person, you’re telling pretty much all the time. The conceit of first person is that the reader is getting a direct feed of the point-of-view character’s inner monologue. This can lead to a vivid, unique voice that’s difficult to achieve from other points of view.

Stories in third person unlimited aren’t as common as they used to be. With this POV, the narrative voice drifts in and out of heads, reading the thoughts and emotional reactions of whatever character makes sense at the moment. In contrast, with third person limited the inner voice comes through a single character who is the focus of the book, chapter, or section.

Regardless of how you deal with points of view, it’s critical to consider how your characters would react to everything happening around them. Knowing your characters—their wants and needs, strengths and weaknesses, goals and regrets—is the easy part. Translating those character traits into genuine human reactions is where things get really tough.

2. Take an “all of the above” approach.

We usually start by showing. Your characters say and do things. They act and react. Even the “stage directions” that accompany your dialogue can go a long way towards portraying realistic human responses. A sidelong glance, a cock of the eyebrow, or a sudden intake of breath all say something to the reader.

Beneath all the “camera and microphone” stuff is the internal dialogue. You can present your characters’ direct thoughts (“Geez—what’s her problem?“), or you can report their thoughts in third person (“Gwendolyn wondered what Julie’s problem was.”). The things your characters notice and internally comment on can go a long way toward rounding out your POV characters’ responses.

If you do this enough, you’ll often find yourself monitoring your own thoughts and feelings, gauging your own private reactions to things as they happen to you, so you can use your responses later in your writing. Inevitably, you’ll find yourself wondering whether your personal reactions might be a little different if you weren’t watching them like a fly on the wall of your own brain.

Yeah, Heisenberg is kind of a jerk.

3. Do an “emotional response” edit pass.

My experience with my writing group has told me that I need to spend more time crafting my characters’ reactions to emotion-inducing events. As I’m getting my chapters ready for review, I set aside time to go methodically through each section, noting response-worthy moments and checking the narrative for appropriate reactions.

There are so many things to consider as you do this. Aside from your characters’ actual reactions, you have to figure out the right way to couch them in the voice you’ve chosen. In fast-paced action sequences, your characters may not have much time to respond to things. It may take a beat or two (or the end of the action) until your characters’ heads and hearts can catch up. If your story uses a “scene-sequel” structure, you may provide an immediate reflex to the emotional high points and then amplify your characters’ reactions in the scenes that follow.

However you choose to do it, explicitly tying the big moments in your story to specific reactions in your characters can solidify the impact these moments have on your reader.

4. Ask readers for help.

No matter how much effort I put into fine-tuning my characters’ responses, I always miss something. Usually multiple somethings. The amazing people in my writing group know me well enough that they instinctively look for off-key or absent reactions in the chapters I submit for review.

If you have similar challenges in your own writing, you can ask your readers to be specifically on the lookout for areas where characters’ emotional reactions don’t seem to meet their expectations. Give them a shorthand comment or a specific highlight color to use to indicate particular passages where a little telling could supplement what you’re already showing. Once others have helped identify the problem passages, go back to your characters to find out what their inner (and outer) responses should be.

My own writing has benefited from this process. I hope yours does, too.


David-Profile-PicDavid Baker is an author, playwright, marketing professional, blogger and freelance editor. He has ghost-written several books and authored dozens of published articles on such topics as business technology, the insurance industry, marketing and data security. He writes both YA and “grown-up” fiction and is actively querying several projects. He also edits the monthly journal of a national trade organization. In his spare time, he runs marathons, shoots guns, cooks curries, paints shoes and builds things. He has an A.A. in theater, a B.A. in English and an M.A. in linguistics. Born in Arizona, raised in Hawaii, currently living in Utah, David is actively involved in theater. His stage play, Inside Al, won the Henry Fonda Young Playwright Award and premiered at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, DC. The play is published by Samuel French and has been in near-continuous production for more than two decades, with hundreds of performances across the US and Canada. You can find his personal blog at

Up Close and Personal—Even in Third Person

One of the early choices when you’re writing a story is what point of view (POV) you’re going to tell it from. There are many factors that go into this, but as a YA writer, I’ve heard people say, “Write in first person because third person is too distant for teenage readers.”

If that’s the case, teen readers ought to avoid books like The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer, or The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater—but those books are all bestsellers with a large teen fanbase.

Literary styles do change over time, and what worked well for Jane Austen or Charles Dickens may not be as gripping to modern audiences accustomed to tight camera angles and special effects. But third person POV does not have to feel old and outdated, nor slow and distant.

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Here are some keys to writing convincing 3rd person for modern audiences.

  1. Know who’s telling the story

When you start telling a story in 3rd person, first you have to decide what kind of 3rd you’re using—limited, omniscient, etc.–but that’s a whole other series of posts. For the sake of this one, just figure out if you have a narrator telling your reader about your characters, or if the narrator is invisible.

One way to look at it is, if your book were a movie, would it have a character doing voice-over like the classic cartoon THE GRINCH WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS, or would it be all tight camera angles on the main character and the story shown through the action and dialogue?

There’s not a particular right or wrong choice, but you need to know who is the voice of your story, even if the narrator is not a named character.

  1. Keep descriptions in character

Close third perspective is actually very similar to first person—it views the story through the eyes of a character. This means that when the character enters a room, the details given are details that character would have noticed; the descriptions used are the way that character would have described things. 

Example: I have a character in my book who is a painter in an 1800’s-style setting. At one point he sees someone who is very pale, and the narration lets us know that by saying she is “lead-white.” Lead white was a color of paint that this character would have been familiar with. Even though the story is in third person, the descriptor is one the main character would have used.

This is especially important because descriptions that don’t make sense to the character or scene will throw a reader out of the story—for example, in the same story as above, if I was focused in close 3rd on a teenage girl in the 1800’s who was used to sitting in a parlor doing embroidery, describing a door latch clicking like the hammer on a gun would be as inappropriate as saying she was as shaken as though she’d been using a jackhammer—while there were guns in her time period, she likely would not have any experience with them to know what they sounded like, and would never have used that description. (And if she does know, well, then, you probably ought to let us know how or why, because that sounds interesting!)

Note: Make sure, as you plan your descriptions, that you remember which character is viewing the scene. Head-hopping is a no-no (though you can follow different characters on different chapters or in different scenes—just make it clear).

  1. Use free indirect speech for thoughts

Another part of keeping things close is that you can use what is termed “free indirect speech” for the character’s thoughts. This is where you have the thoughts as part of the narration instead of set apart by italics or words like “she thought.”

More distant 3rd POV: “I can’t believe I have to eat pancakes again, Jane thought, doesn’t he know I don’t like pancakes? Jane scraped her fork in a circle.”

Using free indirect speech: “Pancakes again. Didn’t he know she didn’t like those? Jane scraped her fork in a circle.”

This also gives you a lot of room to show your character’s emotions—and sometimes those hidden emotions they don’t even recognize—through their thoughts and where their focus is.

  1. Hunt down the filter words

 This was actually what started me on the path of learning about close 3rd POV. A few years ago I put my first chapter of a book up on a forum for anonymous critique, and three different people mentioned that I “used a lot of filter words.”

I had no idea what they meant.

After some research and a lot of practice, I realized it meant I had an invisible narrator who was not staying invisible. There were a lot of phrases like, “she watched,” “he listened,” “she thought,” “he felt,” and that meant someone else was telling my readers about my main characters instead of me showing what was actually happening.

Now, as a caveat, this sort of language can work when done well—this is the language of old-timey fairy tales, and is often seen in Middle Grade novels. It can also work for things like satire and humor, as used by people like Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams. Usually you’ll see it used more effectively, though, when there is purposefully a “voicey” narrator—one with a distinctive way of speaking or with a certain storytelling style or flair.

But more and more in this digital age where we’re moving toward things like virtual reality, people don’t want to be told stories, they want to be in the story, and an effective way of doing that is to cut the filter words.

With filter: “He watched as the dock workers loaded huge crates onto the ship.”

Without filter: “Dock workers loaded huge crates onto the ship.”

With filter: “She felt her stomach knot as badly as the back of her embroidery.”

Without filter: “Her stomach knotted as badly as the back of her embroidery.” 

Whether you’re writing for children, teens or adults, using these tools can deepen your 3rd person POV to make it more compelling and immediate.

“So go forth and revise,” she said. Hopefully what she had written would bring them as many breakthroughs as it had her.

profile-smallerShannon Cooley is a dancing queen who looks seventeen (a.k.a. a babyfaced ballroom dance instructor). Her favorite type of dance is anything with lifts and drops, which might explain the adrenaline-seeking tendencies of her three children. She and her husband are both writers, resulting in children who refer to stuffed animals as “characters.” Shannon writes Young Adult and Middle Grade fiction, and is represented by Victoria Marini of the Irene Goodman Agency