Continuing on with the Emotion Theme:
We’ve all been there: reading a book, looking forward to the exciting bit where the hero(ine) really gets to show their chops. We know it’s coming, and we’ve been looking forward to it since we figured out that they’ve got to stand strong and do whatever it is that needs to be done. And then it happens—the big fight, the luscious kiss, whatever it is—and then… it’s nothing. There’s no emotion. Or if there is it’s told to us in the blandest way possible.
You just want to slam the book closed and throw it against the nearest wall, only you’re reading on your e-reader and you actually like the device and don’t want to damage it. Sigh.
The difference between showing emotion and telling it can make or break a book. It can make a character come alive or keep them flat and two-dimensional.
First let’s start with a quick definition of showing and telling.
Telling is when the author (or a character, depending on the point of view) tells the reader how the character is feeling.
Jane felt scared.
I was sad.
Showing, on the other hand, is where the author shows how the character is feeling by describing their reaction to the emotion.
Jane’s hand trembled as she reached out for the doorknob.
I could feel the sting of the tears in my eyes before quickly blinking them back.
It is showing which brings your reader into the story, allowing them to live the story and all that the characters go through. If you tell, your reader just isn’t going to be there. They aren’t going to experience the pain, the joy, or the romance they are reading for. You can have all the action you can dream up, but if the emotions aren’t there the whole story is just going to fall flat.
So, how do you bring in these emotions without telling your reader?
You feel them. You put yourself into that place, that time, and into the head of your character filled with all of their life experiences and (as the saying goes) bleed onto the page. You use descriptive language, movement, involuntary physical reactions (but not too much or you’ll swing into purple prose). You show us what is happening, what is being said and, through that, we will understand the emotion.
Here’s an example from one author:
The author could have said “Elegy was hurt when Phaedra left her. But seeing her again was even worse.”
Instead, we get this:
Elegy can tell a lie with the merest motion of her eyes. She can spin a story in the twist of her wrist, the way she tucks her hair behind an ear, the sway of her hips. She can speak volumes of falsehood in a look, in an expression, in a motion — certainly, in a word.
What she’s not good at is telling the truth.
She compromises with half a lie. She gives the truth to her body: to the slump of her shoulders; the way her eyes meet Vasia’s rather than Phaedra’s; the anxious, idle rub of her thumb over the grooves lyre-strings have worn into the tips of her fingers. The way she doesn’t move from the door, no matter the tug of the distance between them.
She lets her mouth lie, dripping little cruelties without much input from her brain. “Oh, I don’t much care, darling, not really,” she says, light and careless. “As you can see, I’ve done quite well enough for myself without you. Again.”
We feel this. We feel the hurt, but not once is the word ‘hurt’ or ‘pain’ mentioned. Without telling us how Elegy is feeling, we know precisely how she is feeling.
Showing will keep readers reading. It will keep them feeling right along with your characters. It will bring the story to life in a way that telling simply never could.
Re-read the books you love, the ones that keep you coming back either to the same book or to more from that author. How does the author catch you? How do they make you feel the emotions? And then do that in your own writing.