What "Show Don't Tell" Actually Means
"Show don't tell" is the most-cited piece of writing advice and possibly the most misunderstood. It doesn't mean you should never tell anything. It means that for moments that matter -- emotionally significant scenes, character-defining moments, key plot turns -- the reader should experience the moment rather than be informed about it.
Telling states a fact: "She was angry." Showing creates an experience: the reader sees what anger looks like, hears what it sounds like, feels the tension in the room, and arrives at "she was angry" on their own. The difference is the difference between reading a lab report and witnessing the experiment.
The examples below are organized by what's being shown. Each includes a "telling" version and one or more "showing" alternatives, with notes on what makes the showing version work.
Showing Emotions
Example 1: Anger
Telling: Marcus was furious about the decision.
Showing: Marcus set his coffee mug down on the table. Then he picked it up and set it down again, harder. "Fine," he said. "That's fine." He didn't look at anyone.
Why it works: The repeated action with escalating force, the clipped dialogue that contradicts his body language, the avoidance of eye contact -- these let the reader feel Marcus's anger without the narrator naming it. The reader does the interpretive work, which makes the emotion land harder.
Example 2: Grief
Telling: After the funeral, Elena was overwhelmed with grief.
Showing: Elena opened the fridge to put the leftover casserole away and found three containers of soup her mother had brought over the week before. She closed the fridge without putting anything inside. She stood in the kitchen for a while, then sat on the floor and pressed her forehead against the cabinet door because it was cool and that was the only thing she could think to do.
Why it works: Grief isn't one feeling -- it's a collapse of normal functioning. The casserole task she can't complete, the detail of her mother's soup that makes the loss specific and real, the physical action of pressing her head against something cool because her body needs to do something but her mind can't direct it. The reader doesn't need to be told she's grieving.
Example 3: Fear
Telling: James was terrified when he heard the noise downstairs.
Showing: The sound came from the kitchen. A drawer opening, maybe. James held his breath and listened to his own pulse. His phone was on the nightstand. Three steps. He counted them in his head. One. Two. He didn't take the third.
Why it works: Fear manifests as hyperawareness and paralysis. The specific detail of counting steps to the phone, the focus on his pulse, and the failed attempt to move all communicate terror through experience rather than label.
Example 4: Joy
Telling: Sarah was thrilled when she got the acceptance letter.
Showing: Sarah read the email twice, then closed her laptop and opened it again to make sure. She walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, forgot to drink it, and walked back. Then she laughed -- at nothing, at everything -- and called her mother, who didn't pick up, so she called her again.
Why it works: Joy makes people a little disoriented. The repetitive checking, the purposeless movement, the forgotten glass of water, the uncontainable laughter, the persistence in calling -- these are specific, recognizable behaviors that convey thrilling news better than the word "thrilled."
Showing Character Traits
Example 5: Intelligence
Telling: Detective Park was brilliant -- the smartest person on the force.
Showing: "The window wasn't the entry point," Park said. She was looking at the floor. "There's no glass on the inside. Someone broke it from within." She crouched and touched the hardwood. "Wet shoe prints, but it hasn't rained since Thursday. Check if the neighbor has a sprinkler system and what time it runs."
Why it works: Instead of being told Park is smart, we see her thinking. The observations are specific and the deductions follow logically. The reader concludes she's brilliant based on evidence rather than the narrator's assertion.
Example 6: Kindness
Telling: Tom was a genuinely kind person.
Showing: Tom noticed the new barista's hands shaking as she tried to steam the milk. He ordered something simple -- just a black coffee -- and when she handed it to him, he said, "Best coffee I've had this week," which was probably true but wasn't why he said it.
Why it works: Kindness is shown through a small, specific action: noticing someone's discomfort, adjusting his order to make her job easier, and offering a compliment. The narrator's aside -- "which was probably true but wasn't why he said it" -- shows both the action and the motivation without labeling the trait.
Example 7: Insecurity
Telling: Rachel was deeply insecure about her appearance.
Showing: Rachel changed her shirt three times before the party. She went with the first one, then changed back to the second, then put on something she hadn't tried yet. In the car, she pulled down the visor mirror twice before asking David, "Is this top weird?" in a tone that meant she needed him to say no.
Why it works: The indecisive wardrobe routine, the visor mirror checks, and the loaded question -- these are the behaviors of insecurity. The reader recognizes the pattern from real life and understands the character without being told what to understand.
Dialogue is one of the most powerful tools for showing rather than telling -- a character's words, tone, and what they leave unsaid can reveal personality, relationships, and emotion all at once. For a deep dive, see our guide on how to write natural dialogue.
Showing Relationships
Example 8: A Failing Marriage
Telling: Their marriage had been deteriorating for years.
Showing: He handed her the salt without her asking, the way he always had, and she took it without looking up, the way she always had. They still knew each other's rhythms. They just didn't care about them anymore.
Why it works: The habitual action that's lost its warmth. They're still performing the gestures of intimacy, but the meaning has drained out. The narrator's observation is minimal -- the showing does the heavy lifting.
Example 9: A Close Friendship
Telling: Maya and Jasper had been best friends since childhood and understood each other perfectly.
Showing: Jasper walked in, looked at Maya's face, and said, "I'll get the ice cream. You pick the movie. We're not talking about it until you're ready." Maya hadn't said a word.
Why it works: The depth of friendship is communicated through one interaction where Jasper reads Maya completely, knows exactly what's needed, and acts without being asked. One moment does the work of a paragraph of exposition.
Example 10: An Uncomfortable Power Dynamic
Telling: Everyone in the office was afraid of Director Walsh.
Showing: When Walsh stepped into the break room, three conversations stopped. Someone closed a laptop. The woman heating soup suddenly remembered she had a meeting and left it spinning in the microwave. Walsh poured himself coffee in the silence, apparently noticing none of this, which only made it worse.
Why it works: The collective behavioral shift -- halted conversations, closed laptop, abandoned soup -- communicates Walsh's effect on people. The detail that he seems not to notice amplifies the power dynamic: he doesn't have to be aware of his effect for it to be total.
Showing Setting and Atmosphere
Example 11: Poverty
Telling: The family was very poor.
Showing: The kitchen table had one short leg, propped up with a folded piece of cardboard that was itself falling apart. The fridge hummed louder than it should have and held a jar of peanut butter, a gallon of milk, and condiments. On the counter, a jar of coins sat next to an envelope marked "electric" with a number written and crossed out twice.
Why it works: Poverty is communicated through accumulating specific details: the jury-rigged table, the nearly empty fridge, the coin jar next to a utility bill that's been recalculated. These details don't just state economic circumstances -- they show what daily life looks and feels like.
Example 12: Danger
Telling: The forest felt dangerous.
Showing: The path hadn't been maintained. Branches hung low enough to scrape her shoulders, and twice she stepped on something that cracked like bone underfoot. The birds had stopped. She couldn't remember when, exactly, but at some point the birdsong had dropped out and now the only sound was her own breathing and the canopy shifting overhead.
Why it works: Danger isn't stated -- it accumulates. The unmaintained path, the disturbing cracks underfoot, and most importantly, the absence of birdsong (which she notices retroactively, meaning her subconscious registered the threat before her conscious mind did). The reader feels the wrongness building.
When Telling Is Better Than Showing
Here's the part most "show don't tell" guides leave out: sometimes telling is the right choice. Showing is powerful but expensive -- it takes more words and more reader attention. Not every moment deserves that investment.
Transitions and Time Passage
"Three weeks passed." You don't need to show three weeks passing. You'd bore the reader to death trying. Tell it, move on.
Unimportant Information
"He drove to the airport." If nothing significant happens during the drive, showing the drive wastes pages. Tell it in a sentence and get to the scene that matters.
Pacing Control
Sometimes you need to move fast. A paragraph of telling can cover ground that showing would take pages. If the story needs momentum, telling provides it. A chapter that shows everything at the same level of detail has no rhythm.
Repeated Emotions
If a character is sad throughout an entire chapter, you don't need to show their sadness in every paragraph. Show it vividly once, then use brief telling to maintain it: "The sadness hadn't lifted by evening." The reader fills in the rest.
Example 13: Effective Telling
They spent the rest of the afternoon packing. It was the kind of tedious, physical work that left no room for thinking, which was exactly what both of them needed.
Showing this packing scene would be dull. The telling version conveys what matters -- the emotional purpose of the task -- in two sentences and lets the story move forward.
The Hybrid Approach
Example 14: Telling Then Showing
Marcus had never been comfortable with silence. When the conversation died at dinner, he started rearranging the salt and pepper shakers, building a small fortress out of sugar packets, and narrating his construction project to no one in particular. Elena watched him and decided not to mention the test results until dessert.
The first sentence tells. Everything after shows. This is often the most effective approach: a quick orienting statement followed by the evidence that makes it vivid. The telling gives the reader a lens; the showing gives them the experience.
Example 15: Showing Then Telling
She read the rejection letter, folded it carefully, and placed it in the drawer with the others. There were eleven now. She'd stopped being disappointed around number seven. Now it was just a process -- send, wait, file.
The showing comes first (the careful folding, the drawer full of letters) and the telling summarizes the emotional landscape. The combination is more effective than either alone: the showing makes it concrete, and the telling provides the wider context the reader needs.
Exercises to Practice
Knowing the principle is different from applying it. Here are exercises that build the showing muscle:
Exercise 1: The Emotion Challenge. Pick an emotion (jealousy, relief, shame, excitement). Write a paragraph where a character experiences that emotion without using the word or any synonym for it. The reader should know exactly what the character feels.
Exercise 2: The Character Introduction. Introduce a character by showing them do one thing that communicates who they are. No physical description, no backstory, no personality summary. Just one action in one setting that tells the reader everything they need to know about this person.
Exercise 3: The Revision Pass. Take a page from your current manuscript. Highlight every emotion word (happy, sad, nervous, angry, etc.) and every trait statement ("She was smart," "He was cruel"). For each one, decide: does this moment matter enough to show? If yes, revise it. If no, leave the telling and move on. This exercise pairs well with the line editing pass in our first draft revision guide.
Exercise 4: The Telling Audit. The reverse exercise: take a page that's entirely shown -- every detail rendered, every moment dramatized -- and identify which parts could be told without losing anything. This builds the equally important skill of knowing when not to show.
Exercise 5: The Five Senses. Write a scene using only sensory details (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste) to communicate the emotional state of the scene. No internal thoughts, no dialogue, no narrator commentary. Just the physical world filtered through a character's perception.
The Real Rule
"Show don't tell" is a simplification. The real rule is: show what matters, tell what doesn't, and develop the judgment to know the difference. Every example above involves a choice about where to invest the reader's attention. The moments that define characters, turn plots, and create emotional connections deserve showing. The moments that move the story from point A to point B deserve efficient telling.
That judgment -- knowing which moments earn the full treatment -- is what separates good prose from great prose. It's also why AI editing tools can be genuinely useful for this skill: when you tell an AI to "show this instead of telling it," you see your own text transformed in real time, which teaches the principle faster than reading about it. (For tips on crafting effective instructions like this, see our guide on how to prompt AI for fiction editing.) But the foundation is always the same: see your own telling, decide if it matters, and if it does, put the reader in the scene.