Mood:
caffeinatedTopic: Random Political Diatribe
This is gonna be a fairly long rant, so I apologize in advance...
Close your eyes (go ahead, if you're not scanning this page on your iPhone while driving...) and imagine some of the worst cliches in the history of... well... cliches.
There's some doozies out there, alright, but it's one in particular that I have the most disdain for... in principle, at least. It's a writer's adage: an admonition to fiction writers so breathtakingly simple in its premise that it's refreshing, but so utterly limited in its contextual scope that it's retarded.
(Ah, sorry: don't wanna get into the same trouble that Tropic Thunder is in at the moment... I meant that this adage is very 'differently-abled'...)
But still, calling it the 'r-word' is really being too kind, when you really stop to think about it.
Oh, yeah: just what are we talking about, exactly? Why, that age-old adage that's found such a great burst of life in our soundbite era. It's stated with a sacrosanct authority by numerous literary luminaries and critics, giving one the impression that God the Father The Almighty Himself called the words to Moses as he came down from Mount Horeb, warning him to include this premise as the Eleventh Commandment (yeah, I'm being a bit hyperbolic, but what can I say?)
The Commandment in question?
That thou shalt "SHOW, DON'T TELL" when writing fiction.
...uh... 'kay. Er... what?
On its face the quip takes a bit of thinking over to understand, and then once you DO understand it you realize its brilliance, and that it has a distinct possibility to be a helpful aid for making your writing come alive. That is to say: on its face, it's pretty nice advice.
But, when you really stop to take a closer look at it, you realize that is has about as much usefulness and cost-benefit ratio as an Alaskan public-works project.
I preface this by stating that I'm no master of the English language by any stretch of the imagination, and one of the tenants of writing is that if you THINK you know everything then you know significantly less than nothing, but I'll try backing up all my points, here...
Right, let's back up a bit and think about the overall intent of the "show, don't tell" message: in writing (that is, good writing that doesn't put one to sleep within a matter of pages) the emphasis should be on describing character personalities, characteristics, flaws, biases, emotional states etc... by way of character action, not narrator description.
...'kay... I'm with them so far, in principle. So, then, if I were to jam out a li'l passage about, let's say myself, right now (ie: sitting down, sipping Galliano straight out of a martini glass) "telling" versus "showing", it would be something like this:
Example I: Telling (supposed "no-no"): Shane sipped the Galliano. Shane really liked the Galliano.
Example II: Showing (supposed "yup-yup"): He swished the glass, relishing the bright yellow reflection of afternoon sunlight streaming through the liquid's divine body. With his nose to the rim that unmistakable scent of vanilla and anise bled up through his sinuses, tickling the very underside of his brain with playful whispers of licorice. With lips locked on the glass he sipped, slowly at first, his throat all the while trembling with a sound both terrible as it is content. If it couldn't be called a purr (for how absurb a notion is that!) then at least he would agree that man, if he were ever given suitable reason to purr, would most certainly find that reason staring right at him in the form of a narrow, foot-tall bottle in the back of the liquor cabinet... "Against the wall", as the bartenders might say.
So, obviously, in example II, I never actually say "Shane really likes the Galliano", but the reader should walk away with the distinct impression that I do. That paragraph also states this information in a far more interesting and tactile manner. Goody, goody...
So, then, what's my problem with the "Show, Don't Tell" adage? Two things:
1. It's written as an absolute.
2. People who swear by it tend to treat it as an absolute.
One phrase I've seen and heard far too often from people critiquing other people's work is that "you're telling, not showing".
WTF?
Now, it's certainly a problem if one makes a habit out of using straightforward exposition at every possible corner: "...he was happy that she came to see him... she was angry about the vase... he was upset that she was angry... she was livid at his upsetness... he was happy that she left..."
You get the point...
That is lazy writing: taking the non-scenic route, and it should be discouraged when it so utterly dominates a work as to make character actions secondary to their automatically-labeled states.
But when the f**k did simple Narrative Summary, in and of itself, become so reviled by so many?
There are out there many nitpickers who scream like banshees at any glossing over of action or summing-up of character status. "Show, don't tell!" they protest, but I think it's damned important to keep in mind that, sometimes, it's okay to attach easy labels and throw down simple, explicit definitions to action and mental states. That is to say, it's sometimes quite appropriate to "tell" and not to "show".
Sheesh! But to say "show, don't tell?" Please.
Besides the fact that, if this phrase were taken as an absolute, each book published in the US would be on the order of 10,000 pages in length, "telling" has its place in a truly rich narrative structure. Like the passive voice (of which I've touched upon before...) I can confidently state that not only is "telling" important: it can be critical to maintaining narrative structure.
Deal with it, nitpickers.
Let's use my Galliano example to bolster my point: Which example from earlier would you place on the blank line of each scene?
Scene #1:
The man pounded his fist on the table, rattling Shane's martini glass:
"Of course we should do things my way," he said. "No one would enjoy having things turn out the way you want. Ha! If you were left in charge of this project it would turn out to be as popular as that crappy yellow Galliano in your glass!"
With that he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
__________________________________?
Scene #2:
Chapter 13:
Shane took his Martini glass from off the desk.
__________________________________?
The door burst open, bringing a most unwelcome visitor, and ruining Shane's quiet Galliano moment.
Well, we've demonstrated that Examples I and II both say the exact same thing (though one is "telling" and the other "showing"). Example I, the inexcusably bland "telling" example, brings a succinct point to the end of Scene I, as well as a smidgen of understated humor. If you used Example II here the reader would end up forgetting the preceding conversation by the time they'd finished with the paragraph. Therefore it is this bland, colorless sentence that is most appropriate to use. Why? 'Cause it isn't bland when considered in conjunction with the rest of the narrative structure. Doubtless some absolutists in the "show me" community would cry foul: "You're telling, not showing!"
You're damned right I am. F**king deal with it.
Now, Scene II is the beginning of a chapter and the whole opening mood and tone of the scene is set by establishing my deep love of Galliano: it is here that "telling" wouldn't quite cut it. The depth of "showing" sets the stage and violently contrasts with the later intrusion (the door bursting open).
What's my point with all of this? Simple: the adage should NOT be "Show, don't tell", but rather "Show when you need to show, tell when you need to tell, and be sure to know the f**king difference between the two situations".
The trick to all of this (to quote Kenny Rogers... *shudder*) is that you need to "know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em." And implicit in this is another little truth to keep in mind about absolutists:
If a great mind, even the most brilliant mind in existence, tells you that you should "never, never, never, never ever" do something, they are almost assuredly wrong.
And if 999 out of 1000 people you speak with tell you to "never, never, never, never ever" do something, those 999 out of 1000 people are still wrong, but you need to fully understand why they're telling you not to do something before you go off and do it.
Case in point: chronic "telling" makes for a drip-dull story, but "show, don't tell" is not much better, 'cause when it comes to creating new worlds of wonder, it's all really a matter of "show" and "tell", isn't it?
Huh... I guess I did learn everything I need to know in kindergarten...
Of course how much "telling" versus "showing" one does is also a matter of preference: distinct narrative flow, after all, is largely an individualistic thing and develops just like any other distinct and aquired taste.
...And with that Shane sipped the Galliano. Shane really liked the Galliano.
