I was on a date a few years ago. Halfway through the evening the guy said to me ‘I’m kind, generous and fun’ at which point I spat out my wine and almost punched the air in excitement. It wasn’t my romantic prospects I was so keyed up about: I’d just been given the best ever example of ‘show, don’t tell’.

‘Show, don’t tell’ is a piece of advice given to writers when they’re starting out. Often at the Greenhouse, we’ll see submissions that start by dumping an awful lot of information and back-story on the first page. That’s a fairly sure sign that the writer is still getting to grips with the craft of how to tell a story. I think Sarah would agree that it’s the number one turn-off in a query.

Reading isn’t about words on a page - it’s about looking through the page and beyond the ink to the scenes, characters and drama underneath.

When we talk about ‘telling’ we mean exposition in which the narrator, or main character, gives information about themselves, other characters or their world. The benefit of telling is that it gets the story down quickly - so don’t worry about it too much if you’re flying through a first draft and you want to lay plot fast. The problem with telling is that it’s dull to read so when you’re working on the next draft that’s probably the best time to be mindful of it.

By taking out unnecessary telling you’re allowing your reader to occupy some space in the story. As a rule: If you need to share vital facts do it within a dramatic context.

The show don’t tell principle is also important in description. Description is tough to get right - it needs to serve a purpose otherwise your reader will zone out. I asked Greenhouse author, Michael Ford, to come up with an example.

‘The house next door looked spooky.’

versus…

‘A forgotten rocking chair sat on the front porch of number 22. It took only a light breeze to make it creak back and forth, as though someone had just stood up and walked inside. Worst of all, it seemed to move when there was no wind at all.’

I’ll bet that images came into your mind when you read that last example. If you were plugged into a machine that measured electrical activity in the brain, your visual cortex would have lit up - you weren’t seeing black squiggles on a screen, you were seeing pictures.

Sometimes to save the story a few pages of lengthy and drawn-out showing, you’ve got to tell. But stories come alive for the reader in the moments when a writer is showing.

A few questions to ask yourself during a revision.

Is the dialogue true to the situation or is it shoe-horning information in an inauthentic way?

Are there big chunks of exposition pointed right at the reader?

Do you find yourself summarizing the drama just to make sure it’s clear?

If you’re still early on in your writing, and getting to grips with all the tough basics, ‘show, don’t tell’ is one of the biggies - and mastering it will give you the biggest leap in learning your craft.

It’s been a busy few weeks at the Greenhouse. Sarah is in London which means we got to catch up over a few glasses of pink and a big plate of pasta. And we’ll have some more exciting debut news to announce very soon.

If you’re wondering about the relevance of the photos with the blog post, there isn’t any - just a few pictures to give you a warm fuzzy when it’s so cold and dark outside.

Like Sarah, I’m a dog-lover. I’ve been trying to make friends with all the dog owners in my building for years. I’d find out from the porter the name and flat number of the person that owned the french bulldog with the dainty ankles, or the three blond dachshunds who were always in a hurry, even the smelly lab with the baggy eye-lids. Then I’d put a note through their letter box saying ‘Hello, I live in 129, I’ve noticed that you have a dog and if you ever want a dog-sitter then come and see me’.  In hindsight this might have creepy and unsurprisingly I didn’t get any take-up.

A few months ago I was eavesdropping in the lift and I heard one of my neighbours mention her dog. Right, I said to myself, don’t let this slip through your fingers. So I pulled my most job-interview smile and launched into my pitch: ‘I’ve always loved dogs, but I haven’t had one for years. I have a job and stuff and I’m normal. Can I have your dog, well maybe not have, but can I dog-sit, or walk him, or just pat his head and put my finger on that little velvet pocket he has on his ear?’ To stop me talking my neighbour agreed and now I look after him on Fridays when I work from home. He’s called Philos, he molts like nothing on earth and he’s very, very cosy. Isn’t he lovely?!