The Real Reason Why Readers Complain that You Should ‘Show, Not Tell’

Have you heard of the “Show, don’t tell” complaint in fiction writing?

If so, do you find this mantra tiresome and repetitive?

But it turns out there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to this issue.

Here’s some background context for those unfamiliar with the topic. Feel free to skip the next section if you already know the concept:

What the hell is “show, don’t tell”? And why should we care?

In a fiction story, we want to demonstrate a character’s feelings, personality, relationships, story world, etc.

When we “show,” we reveal this information through dialogue, internal thoughts, body language, actions, and the like.

In contrast, when we “tell,” we directly state or summarise those character feelings, personalities, relationships, social systems, and so on.

For example, this would be showing:

Ruby whispered in Laura’s ear, “I know you’re cheating on me, and you will regret it.”

This would be telling:

Ruby is a vicious, vengeful woman who refuses to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

For context, Laura is actually not cheating on her. However, some mutual friends lied to make Ruby believe her girlfriend is unfaithful. It’s an Othello and Desdemona situation…

In my example, the former “shows” Ruby’s vindictive attitude through her dialogue. In contrast, the narrator directly “tells” you about Ruby’s personality in the latter example.

People believe that “showing” is superior to “telling”

According to popular wisdom, showing is better than telling. With showing, the reader can experience the information in vivid detail, and connect more with the characters.

It also feels more convincing to watch these actions, body language, dialogue, internal monologues rather than to believe a statement just because the author said so.

But people don’t realize that there’s nothing inherently bad about telling. In fact, sometimes telling is better for the situation.

For instance, it would be boring if the writer showed you every single event. It’s much better to just summarize some of them, and only focus on the scenes we should care about.

Moreover, telling us about a scary incident can be more frightening than letting us witness the scene. Our imagination can come up with some terrifying things, after all. That could be useful in some horror and thriller books.

For example:

The jail was foul and old, and tormented souls rotted there for an eternity.

Here, I don’t “show” any concrete details. I just give a vague statement about how frightful the jail is, and let your imagination fill in the blanks!

Given that there are pros and cons for both telling and showing, I often get annoyed when someone complains that something is told rather than shown.

It’s like they’re imposing a rule for the sake of it, not because they understand the reason why the author should “show” in this situation.

But now that I’m older and wiser, I see that the reader’s complaint is valid. Yet, the real problem isn’t “telling.” Rather, it’s about something deeper.

Here’s an example to explain what I mean.

The Horror Movie Game Novel

I follow an online novel where the characters are forced into horror movies. In each horror movie game, they have to role-play as the heroes and beat the villains to survive.

The author has a massive number of subscribers, and many are paid Patreon subs (including me). His Discord chats, including Patron chats, are always so active.

It’s like a writer’s dream come true. So many people adore his work.

However, just because a story is wildly successful, doesn’t mean it’s perfect.

On a recent chapter, a reader wrote:

“Having a few moments in the last few chapters where the storytelling has been ‘telling’ what’s happened rather than ‘showing’ what’s happened.”

You know what the author replied with?

He said:

“I can’t justify the word count for showing unimportant things. Telling has its place.”

Wow. He’s blunt, right? The author is quite matter of fact when he replies to readers.

But he did add this:

“I’ll have to iron it all out in the next draft.”

At first, I agreed with the author, as I’m tired of people complaining about telling just because it’s telling, as if they’re regurgitating from a textbook.

But then I thought more about it.

I’m a psychotherapist, so I was trained to not dismiss a feeling as “silly” or “irrational,” but instead, to explore the root cause, since no emotions come from a vacuum.

So, when the reader expressed their discontent, I wonder if they meant one or more of the following:

• “There was too much summary, and too little dialogue and experiencing of the character interactions. So I’ve been feeling disconnected and bored.”
• “I was very excited to see this particular event. But you just summed it up in a few sentences, rather than letting me see line by line what happened. I’m disappointed.”
• “Some parts were hard for me to believe. You say that this character was feeling such-and-such, but I don’t find that convincing. If you showed me exactly what happened, then I might believe that the character really felt that way.”

As for my experience as a reader, while I loved the story as a whole, there was an issue that bugged me.

The author, like his protagonist, can be very analytical when it comes to the horror game mechanics. This isn’t a bad thing per se, and I consider myself an analytical person as well.

But there comes a point where the analysis goes overboard, and I would wait impatiently for the planning and discussion to end, so we can “get back to the story.”

I’m not sure if this is what the reader meant, but I would have enjoyed the story more if the characters spent less time explaining their plan in detail to us, and more time just showing the plan in action, even giving us a pleasant surprise in how they outwitted the villain.

To be fair to the author, he does conceal parts of the plan sometimes, and we get to see those parts in action instead.

Perhaps he could do that more often. Trim down the bulky passages of analytical game planning, and let the plot events unfold and reveal these game strategies, rather than telling us directly.

There’s truly much nuance when it comes to the “show, don’t tell” advice. It would help to figure out what exactly the reader was bothered about, so you can find a way to fix it.

Over to You

How do you feel about the “Show, don’t tell” advice? Do you agree that when a reader complains about telling, not showing, they’re actually pointing at a deeper concern?

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