The Truth About ‘Show, Don’t Tell’ (And Why You’re Still Getting It Wrong)
Most writers are told to “show, don’t tell,” but no one explains what that actually means. This blog breaks down the real difference, shows you where telling goes wrong, and teaches you how to create scenes that resonate — not just describe.
WRITING & EDITING
The Truth About ‘Show, Don’t Tell’ (And Why You’re Still Getting It Wrong)
Introduction: The Advice That’s (Kind of) Failing You
“Show, don’t tell.”
You’ve seen it scribbled in the margins of your manuscript. You’ve heard it from critique partners. Maybe even in a writing course where someone read your perfectly decent sentence, raised an eyebrow, and muttered, “You’re telling here.”
But no one tells you what to do instead.
The phrase is used like gospel — but it’s rarely explained in a way that helps you apply it scene by scene, sentence by sentence. Even worse, it’s led a generation of new writers to over-describe everything in sight and still somehow miss the emotional mark.
So let’s get clear.
This blog isn’t going to just tell you to show more. We’re going to break down what goes wrong, why it doesn’t land, and how to actually fix it — with real examples.
1. Telling: The Shortcut That Skips Emotion
The Problem:
Telling skips over the experience and just labels it.
She was heartbroken.
Is it wrong? No. But it’s flat. It gives the conclusion, not the evidence. Readers aren’t experiencing her heartbreak. They’re being asked to accept it and move on.
The Fix:
Let the emotion manifest in action, reaction, or sensory change.
She stared at his last message, thumbs hovering over the screen. The music kept playing, but she hadn’t heard a word in ten minutes. Her tea had gone cold.
Now we’re in the moment. There’s still restraint — no melodrama — but we see and feel the ache.
Why This Matters:
Readers don’t remember labels. They remember how it felt. They remember stillness, cracked voices, sudden movements — not the word “sad.”
2. Over-Telling: Trusting the Words, Not the Reader
The Problem:
You say what the character is like instead of showing who they are.
Jasper was a generous man who always thought of others before himself.
This reads like a résumé, not a character.
The Fix:
Let the character reveal themselves through choices, habits, and contradictions.
Jasper passed the last slice of pie to the waitress on her break and said, “I’m too full,” even though he hadn’t eaten since morning.
No commentary needed. We understand him through action.
Why This Matters:
Showing gives the reader room to interpret. And interpretation creates engagement. People lean in when they sense a deeper layer. When everything’s spelled out, there's no mystery — and no momentum.
3. The “Show Everything” Trap: You’re Not a Camera Operator
The Problem:
In an effort to “show,” you start detailing every breath, movement, and eye twitch.
He reached for the doorknob. Turned it. Pushed the door. Stepped into the hallway. Looked around. Took a deep breath.
This is showing without meaning.
The Fix:
Only show what matters — emotionally, thematically, or narratively.
He hesitated at the door. His hand hovered. Then, with one breath — in and out — he stepped into the silence.
Fewer words, more weight.
Why This Matters:
Good storytelling isn’t about realism. It’s about significance. Filter the moment through the character’s experience — not the physical choreography.
4. Dialogue with No Subtext: Telling Dressed as Showing
The Problem:
Your characters explain exactly what they’re feeling. Out loud. All the time.
“I’m just feeling really overwhelmed and scared right now,” she said.
That’s not dialogue. That’s a therapy transcript.
The Fix:
Let their body language, tone, and avoidance speak.
“I’m fine,” she said, stacking the dishes with more force than necessary. She didn’t look up.
We feel the tension. We know she’s not fine. That gap between what’s said and what’s felt? That’s subtext.
Why This Matters:
Readers don’t want dialogue that states the obvious. They want to uncover what’s going unsaid. That’s how real people talk — and how fictional ones should, too.
5. Overexplaining the Obvious: Let the Moment Stand
The Problem:
You show something, and then immediately explain it. As if the reader might miss it.
She clenched her fists and blinked back tears. She was clearly furious.
You had it — and then you ruined it.
The Fix:
Trust the image to do the job.
She clenched her fists and blinked back tears.
Stop there. Let it hit.
Why This Matters:
Overexplaining makes your writing feel insecure. Letting a moment breathe gives it power. Trust your reader. If they’re confused, they’ll keep reading. If they feel condescended to, they’ll close the book.
6. Worldbuilding and Setting Tells: Describing the Outcome, Not the Effect
The Problem:
You describe the setting in broad terms, but nothing lands emotionally.
The city was loud, crowded, and full of angry people.
That’s not worldbuilding. That’s a summary.
The Fix:
Show the sensory detail through the character’s perspective.
The vendor’s shout cut through the traffic, a sound as familiar to her as the taste of burnt coffee and missed deadlines. Someone bumped her shoulder. No apology. No surprise.
Now the world feels lived in. Personal. Grounded.
Why This Matters:
You’re not just painting a backdrop. You’re immersing the reader in a mood — a tone. Show how the world feels to your character, not just what it looks like.
7. When to Tell (Because Yes, You Still Should)
Here’s the twist: great writers tell all the time. The key is intention.
Tell when:
You’re summarizing time or events that don’t need a scene
You’re establishing clear facts quickly
You’re anchoring the reader in a shift of tone, voice, or direction
You need rhythm or pacing
For three days, she didn’t write a single word. Not one.
That’s telling — and it works.
The summer they lost the house passed in a blur of boxes, bills, and broken promises.
That’s telling — and it hits hard.
The Real Rule:
Show what matters emotionally. Tell what matters structurally.
Final Thoughts: Show to Connect, Tell to Control
“Show, don’t tell” isn’t a commandment. It’s a strategy.
Your job as a writer is to guide experience, not just dump information. Use telling when you need clarity. Use showing when you need resonance.
Great writing moves between the two — not at random, but with purpose.
If you want help crafting scenes with emotional depth, tension, and subtext, the Knowledge Hub inside Koratech WriterPro walks you through exactly how to apply these skills in your own work. From dialogue to theme, voice to pacing, you’ll find frameworks, templates, and tools to take your draft from functional to unforgettable.
Because great stories don’t just tell us what happened.
They make us feel like we were there.
