This is part 3 of an unplanned series. You can find part 2 here if you need to catch up. If you haven’t been following along, I highly recommend reading at least part 1 before continuing with this post. When you’re ready to dive in, you may find it helpful to open these two posts in separate browser tabs.

The previous post covered telling, how Peter Rock advises using it, and what details work best when told. This post will address the other side of this discussion and the other half of Rock’s essay: showing.

“… the question becomes what can we not tell, what must we show, what cannot be simplified? Emotions, for instance. Relationships.”

Peter Rock, “The Telling that Shows”

Can these things be told? Sure, but your readers may not believe you. That’s why it’s wiser to show these things instead.

Emotions

If readers see characters expressing emotions in the same way they’ve seen others express them (or even done so themselves), they’ll believe that the character’s emotions are genuine. Take a look at this example:

(Kiki sits on the bedside table, restless… Do have her legs swinging back and forth off the edge of the table to better indicate how she’s feeling. The silence is awkward for her, yet she’s nervous about how to say what she wants to say.)

This narration note is where I establish Kiki’s emotional state at the start of the scene. I simply name the emotions here, but I also jotted down how I wanted Kiki to express this emotion in the final version.

Her legs swung back and forth off the edge of the table. She’d occasionally wonder if Silas had fallen asleep. But no. He would’ve extinguished the lantern first. The longer the train’s wheels clattered in their low rhythm, the more unbearable the silence became.

Much of what I had in the narration note made it into this passage, though phrased very differently. I added the second, third, and fourth sentences to convey Kiki’s thoughts bouncing back and forth. I like incorporating moments like this whenever I need to suggest a character is feeling anxious.

It’s not that emotions can’t be named in your prose. It’s that, whenever emotions are named, they ought to be paired with a description of how the character expresses that emotion or some metaphor about how the character experiences that emotion. Let time stand still as he stands frozen and wide-eyed in shock.

For a longer example, let’s examine this passage.

Kiki flapped her wings in surprise, taking her into the air. She hovered there for a second or two as she collected herself. Landing back onto the table, she explained, “Well, a read isn’t the full picture, you see.”

My real-world audience would not be familiar with this expression of surprise, so I had no choice but to name the emotion. Yet I made sure to tie the telling of the emotion to a shown description of how Kiki was expressing it — the body language cues that Silas would have used to infer what the fairy was feeling. Kiki’s dialogue — the line quoted here and the rest of the speech that follows — do a lot of the heavy lifting in this section to reinforce how Kiki is struggling to maintain her story after being knocked off-guard.

Relationships

Much like emotions, if readers see characters relating to and interacting with each other in ways that the readers themselves relate to and interact with people in their real lives, they’ll believe that the characters genuinely feel the way they do about each other. But unlike emotions, relationships can’t be fully described in a few sentences. They need time and space to develop, the interactions to play out, and the memories to form — the same things that real-life relationships need.

Thus, relationships are best portrayed through scenes and dialogue. Describe the events that become the characters’ memories as they happen, so these same events can become the readers’ memories too. The more memories your readers form around your story, the more invested they become in it.

The friendship between Kiki and Silas was my primary inspiration for “To the Capital.” Showing this friendship was my main purpose for writing it. I wanted to demonstrate Kiki’s genuine concern for Silas.

“Can’t say I was surprised. From all I heard, I figured it was only a matter of time. But to actually watch it happen… You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. I’m used to it.”

Those words struck Kiki in the heart.

I also wanted to show that Silas is comfortable enough with Kiki to engage in friendly banter…

“… I am pleased to announce that you passed with flying colors. So? How does it feel?”

“Like you’re just making all of this up.”

“I am not! I’m serious! I honestly was.”

Silas chuckled as he turned off the lantern. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

… and prod at her hypocrisy.

“Proves what?” Silas asked.

“That you’re a good friend, which proves you’re also a good man.”

“Didn’t you say that all fairies are excellent judges of character? That you can read someone instantly?”

Kiki flapped her wings in surprise, taking her into the air.

My desire to show these aspects of their friendship shaped the interaction between them, the entire scene, and thus, the whole piece. Did I accomplish these goals, and how well did I do? I’ll leave that for you the reader to decide.

I have a few more thoughts on showing and telling before wrapping this series up. But I’ll share those in the next post. For now, do you better understand what showing is and how to use it? Are you starting to see why writing a planning script can be helpful? Or do you still have more questions? Drop them in the comments, and I’ll do my best to answer them.