Show, Don’t Tell… But Sometimes, Just TELL Me!

If you’ve spent any amount of time learning about creative writing, you’ve probably heard the phrase show, don’t tell.

It’s one of the most frequently repeated pieces of writing advice, and for good reason. Showing allows readers to experience a story instead of simply being told what’s happening. It creates opportunities for emotional connections, sensory details, and immersive storytelling.

But somewhere along the way, I think some writers started interpreting that advice as never tell.

And baby, we need to talk about that.

Because while showing is an incredibly valuable storytelling technique, not every sentence needs to be an elaborate production. Sometimes a simple statement is exactly what a scene needs.

Let’s break it down.

What’s the Difference Between Showing and Telling?

Telling is when the narrator directly communicates information to the reader.

For example:

Monica was nervous about her job interview.

Simple. Straightforward. We know how Monica feels.

Showing, on the other hand, allows readers to recognize Monica’s nervousness through her actions, physical reactions, dialogue, or thoughts.

Monica smoothed the front of her blouse for the third time. Her eyes darted toward the clock above the receptionist’s desk before returning to the résumé trembling between her fingers.

See the difference?

In the first example, we’re told Monica is nervous. In the second, we recognize her nervousness without the narrator explicitly naming the emotion.

Showing invites readers to interpret what’s happening. Rather than simply receiving information, they’re actively experiencing the moment alongside the character.

And that’s what makes it such a powerful technique.

But here’s where things get interesting.

Showing Is Powerful, but It Isn’t Always Necessary

Let’s say your character needs to drive to the grocery store.

You could write:

Marcus drove to the grocery store.

Or you could write:

Marcus grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, slipped on his sneakers, and stepped outside. The afternoon sun warmed his face as he crossed the driveway and unlocked his car. He slid behind the steering wheel, adjusted his mirrors, fastened his seat belt, and started the engine. After backing out of the driveway, he turned onto the street and headed toward the grocery store.

Now, unless something important happens during that trip, WHY are we doing all this? 😂

We don’t need to experience every movement a character makes.

If the drive isn’t important to the plot, characterization, atmosphere, or pacing, there’s nothing wrong with simply telling readers that Marcus drove to the grocery store.

In fact, the shorter sentence is probably the better choice.

It gets us where we need to go without spending unnecessary time on details that don’t contribute anything meaningful to the story.

Not every action deserves a scene.

And learning to recognize which moments deserve attention is an important part of becoming a stronger storyteller.

When Showing Makes the Biggest Impact

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting we abandon showing altogether.

Absolutely not!

Some of the most memorable moments in fiction are powerful precisely because the writer allows readers to experience them.

Consider this example:

Tasha was devastated when she learned her husband had died.

We understand what happened and how she feels, but there’s very little emotional depth.

Now consider:

Tasha stared at the officer standing in her doorway. His lips continued moving, but she couldn’t make sense of anything he was saying. Her fingers loosened around the coffee mug, sending it crashing against the hardwood floor. She didn’t look down. She couldn’t take her eyes off the officer’s face.

The second version allows readers to witness Tasha’s reaction.

We don’t need the narrator to announce that she’s devastated. Her behavior communicates that for us.

And because we’re experiencing the moment rather than receiving a summary, the emotional impact can be much stronger.

Showing is especially effective when you’re writing pivotal moments, emotional turning points, important interactions, or scenes where readers need to feel connected to the characters.

But even then, there’s room for telling.

Sometimes Telling Makes the Emotion Stronger

Here’s something I think gets overlooked in conversations about this technique.

Showing and telling don’t have to compete with each other.

Sometimes, using both creates a stronger passage than relying exclusively on one.

Let’s revisit Tasha.

Tasha stared at the officer standing in her doorway. His lips continued moving, but she couldn’t make sense of anything he was saying. Her fingers loosened around the coffee mug, sending it crashing against the hardwood floor. She didn’t look down. She couldn’t take her eyes off the officer’s face.

Her husband was dead.

That final sentence is telling.

And it works.

After the physical reactions and sensory details, the direct statement brings the reality of the situation into focus.

It’s short. It’s devastating. And it doesn’t need any additional decoration.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do as a writer is stop describing the emotion and simply let the truth sit on the page.

Let’s Talk About Pacing

One of the biggest reasons writers need to understand when to show and when to tell is pacing.

Showing generally takes more words and slows the narrative down, allowing readers to spend more time experiencing a particular moment.

Telling generally moves through information more quickly.

Neither is inherently better.

The question is whether the pacing supports what you’re trying to accomplish.

Imagine you’re writing a romance novel.

Your main characters have just shared their first kiss.

Now, THAT might be a moment worth slowing down.

Readers may want to experience the hesitation before their lips meet, the anticipation, the physical sensations, and the emotions that follow.

A sentence like They kissed, and it was wonderful probably isn’t going to deliver the same experience.

But what about the three weeks between that first kiss and their next date?

Do we need a detailed account of every text message, phone conversation, grocery run, and workday during those three weeks?

Probably not.

You might simply write:

Over the next three weeks, their conversations became longer, their flirtation more obvious, and their excuses for seeing each other increasingly ridiculous.

That’s telling, and it’s doing exactly what it needs to do.

It’s moving time forward while communicating how the relationship is developing.

Then, when the next significant moment arrives, you can slow the narrative down again.

Showing allows readers to linger. Telling allows the story to move.

A well-paced novel needs both.

And Please, Stop Making Everybody’s Heart Race!

Okay, let me put my editor hat on for a minute. 😂

Showing emotion through physical reactions is useful, but there’s another problem writers can encounter when they’re trying too hard to avoid telling.

Repetition.

Everybody’s heart is racing. Everybody’s stomach is twisting. Everybody’s breath is catching. Everybody’s hands are trembling.

Somebody walks into a room, and suddenly every organ in the main character’s body is performing gymnastics.

Baby, PLEASE! 😭

Physical reactions are a perfectly legitimate way to communicate emotion, but they’re not the only way.

You can show how a character feels through dialogue, decisions, behavior, internal thoughts, interactions with other characters, or the way they interpret their surroundings.

And sometimes you can just name the emotion.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with writing She was angry if that sentence serves the moment.

What matters is whether the writing effectively communicates the character’s experience.

If every emotion is accompanied by three physical reactions and a detailed description of somebody’s pulse, the technique can become predictable instead of immersive.

Variety matters.

And so does restraint.

Knowing When to Show and When to Tell

So how do you decide which technique to use?

I like to think about what the reader needs from a particular moment.

If the moment is important to the character’s development, emotional journey, relationships, or the central conflict, showing may give it the attention it deserves.

If the information is primarily there to establish context, transition between scenes, summarize routine activities, or move time forward, telling may be more effective.

For example:

Telling: Darius had been avoiding his brother for months.

This quickly establishes a strained relationship.

Showing: Darius glanced at the name flashing across his phone screen. His thumb hovered over the answer button before he turned the phone facedown on the table. It was the fourth call from his brother that week.

This allows us to witness that avoidance.

Both versions communicate useful information, but they serve slightly different purposes.

The first might work perfectly when establishing background information. The second might be more appropriate when the strained relationship is becoming important to the scene.

The key is making an intentional choice rather than following a rule simply because somebody told you to.

Don’t Confuse More Words with Better Writing

This is probably one of the most important things I want writers to understand.

More description does not automatically mean better storytelling.

Sometimes writers become so focused on showing that they unintentionally bury the important parts of their stories beneath unnecessary details.

A character can’t walk across a room without three paragraphs describing the carpet, the furniture, the temperature, and the precise angle of the sunlight.

And while descriptive writing can be beautiful, it should still have a purpose.

Ask yourself what the details are contributing.

Are they establishing atmosphere? Revealing something important about a character? Creating tension? Developing the setting? Helping readers understand what’s happening?

Or are they simply making the passage longer?

As an author and editor, I believe every word should earn its place on the page.

That doesn’t mean every sentence needs to advance the plot directly. Some sentences develop character, establish mood, or give readers room to breathe.

But there should be a reason for what you’re including.

And sometimes the best editorial decision is to replace an elaborate paragraph with one clear sentence.

The Bottom Line

Show, don’t tell is valuable advice, but it’s not an absolute rule.

Showing helps readers experience the story. Telling helps writers communicate information efficiently, control pacing, and move between important moments.

The strongest storytelling often comes from knowing how to use both.

Don’t feel obligated to dramatize every action, describe every physical sensation, or turn every emotional reaction into a lengthy production.

Give your important moments the attention they deserve. Allow readers to experience the scenes that matter. And when something doesn’t need to be stretched into an entire scene, don’t be afraid to summarize it.

Writing is about making choices that serve your story, not blindly following a collection of rules.

So yes, show me the heartbreak. Show me the tension. Show me the chemistry between two characters who are trying desperately to pretend they don’t want each other.

But if your character is simply going to the grocery store?

Baby, just tell me they went to the store!

I promise I’ll survive without knowing how they adjusted the rearview mirror. 😂

Happy writing!