Wordplay

Vivid writing demands more than just telling a reader how a character is feeling. As readers, we don’t care what the characters are experiencing so much as we care what we experience through the characters. But that’s easier said than done.


One of the best tricks I’ve run across is the notion of “never naming an emotion.” Love, hate, happiness, sadness, frustration, grief—they all might be easily recognizable emotions, they might even all be emotions that will immediately get a point across to a reader. But by themselves the words lack the ability to make a reader feel what we are trying to convey.


It’s pretty easy to tell the reader that “Sam stood in shock.” The description is short, to the point, and every reader in the world will instantly understand what Sam is feeling. So what’s the problem? The problem is that the reader is being told what Sam is feeling, rather than being shown. Sweeping references to generally held emotions don’t require much effort on the part of the author. But they also don’t paint vivid pictures for the reader. Saying Sam is shocked is one thing; saying “Sam stopped short and stared, his lungs turning inside out, his heart trying to thrash its way out of his chest” is another bowl of chow mein altogether.


Now, granted, my description probably isn’t the best portrayal of shock ever written, but you get the idea. Which description makes you feel Sam’s shock? This is a basic tenant of “show, don’t tell,” but it’s one that’s often overlooked—or at least seldom named. In his thought-provoking book From Where You Dream, a transcription of college classes, Robert Olen Butler discusses what he calls the “anecdote exercise,” in which students are encouraged to stretch themselves beyond summaries and generalizations.


This, of course, applies to so much more than just character feelings. It applies to every tenant of “showing.” But sussing out inevitable instances of telling is much easier if we have something specific—in this case a concrete noun or verb—to search for. Train yourself to recognize concrete words that could be expanded into more vivid descriptions. It’s amazing how this one trick can blast color and energy through what otherwise might have be, at best, a merely serviceable line.


Be aware, of course, that not all summary emotions (or actions) are inappropriate. Occasionally, the story demands that we relay the short version to our readers. And sometimes stating an emotion, on top of a description, only strengthens the overall effect of the showing. Like all of writing, it’s a very instinctual balancing act. But if you can master it, you can give your writing a huge boost toward vivacity.

Story by K.M. Weiland

Tags: emotion , Showing , Telling