Don’t just tell your story. Make it come alive.

I’ll be honest, my first attempts at writing short stories or essays turned out to be a series of rants and confessions — experiences that needed clearing before any real writing could take place. In those first few weeks of purging, I learned the difference between telling a story and writing a story. As Margaret Atwood says in her book, Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing:

A lot of people do have a book in them – that is, they have had an experience that other people might want to read about. But this is not the same as “being a writer.” Or, to put it in a more sinister way: everyone can dig a hole in a cemetery, but not everyone is a grave-digger.

I wanted to be a writer, so I signed up for an online course.

I forget the exact writing assignment from our instructor that first week (something about a lie you’d been told or a person who betrayed you), but, oh, was I itching to write it. My fingers were on fire. What’s funny is that my burning assignment ended up being very little “story.” It finished out at less than one thousand words, and I managed to fill many of those sentences with the word “irritating,” or some derivation thereof. That could be an exaggeration, but I doubt it, since one of the other writers in class commented that “We get that your character is irritated.”

In other words, show us, don’t tell us. Please.

“Show don’t tell.” That phrase sounded familiar, but my newbie writer’s mind thought it vague. Being a compare and contrast kind of girl, I needed concrete examples. Show me, I whined! One of the other writers must have heard me, and she sent a quick note to the message board with a few snippets of telling vs. showing. One particular example made all the difference for me. She wrote:

Telling: Louie drank a lot.

Showing: Louie shoved last night’s collection of empty beer bottles aside and poured the morning’s pick-me-up into a glass. He considered topping it off with orange juice, but the sweet smell turned his stomach. Instead, he downed the vodka straight. “Ah, that’s a better color on the day,” he said. He said that every day. *

Show, don’t tell.

The February 2011 issue of Writer’s Digest also talks about the same issue in an article called, “25 Ways to Improve Your Writing in 30 Minutes a Day.” Jack Heffron and Sage Cohen call it Precision and Imagery, but the meaning is the same.

On precision, Jack Heffron says, “The key to successfully creating or conveying worlds for our readers is painstakingly observing those worlds, and then scribbling down the precise details that tell the story. On imagery, Sage Cohen says “A successful image can plug right into your reader’s nervous system at times when explanation falls flat.”

A well-formed image appears when the writer uses tiny, often overlooked details, from a scene. Sometimes those details emerge through other senses, sometimes they are just visual notes. Either way, a sentence or a scene comes alive in the end.

To be fair, telling in writing has its own purpose as well. In the Writer’s Digest article, Sage Cohen also says that “sometimes a simple, unembellished statement will be the most powerful choice. But you won’t know until you try.”

What’s your favorite example of showing, not telling? Or, maybe you have an example where telling is the better choice?

* Used with permission from Jennifer Savage.

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Three Reasons to Workshop

Maybe because it’s Monday and the start of a fresh new week, or maybe it’s the way my coffee kicked in with that handful of M&M’s I just ate, but either way, I’m excited.

Last week, I signed up for a Novel Workshop. The workshop speaks to writers who “have a good portion of their novel on paper and want some constructive feedback…instruction, support and discussion.”

Perfect.

Perfect for me for three reasons:

1. I’ve been all talk lately about rewriting the first draft of my novel — talking on my blog, talking in my morning pages, talking out loud to myself in front of the laptop too late at night. But now, this workshop guarantees firm deadlines, and there’s nothing like accountability to force the issue and say, “Rewrite. Or else.”

2.  Ann M. Lynn commented on my post on patience about the fact that beginning writers often spend the majority of their time studying the craft and less time writing. She said:

New writers are slowed by learning activities: studying published works, experimenting with techniques familiar to the old pros, fumbling with prose in search of an understandable or unique style, squeezing writing time into already busy schedules (or developing the habit or sitting down to write), and working through emotional blocks (all those mountains and sinkholes we create for ourselves).

I have sat in that place of more contemplation and study and less writing for months. Now, I want to ride the pendulum back to center and apply some of my new insights. I want to write stories as often as I study the craft of storytelling.

3. One of the peripheral reasons for taking this course is connection. So far, all my writing and learning has happened online where “face-to-face” means interacting with avatars. The internet is a great security veil for me. I’ve taken more risks than I thought I could, and I have been rewarded with new writing friends and great resources.

However, I’m still hiding. If I want to be taken seriously as a writer, then it’s time I show up in the real writing world. In “Close, but No (Literary) Cigar” (from the Writer’s Yearbook 2010), Rachel Estrada Ryan says:

“…Universities, bookstores, libraries and the occasional coffee shop often bring in established writers and agents…I highly recommend showing up to such events; they offer a great way to meet (and, with hope, endear yourself to) successful people who might be able to help further your career” (p. 31).

I doubt I’ll meet any agents in this workshop (though you never know). But, I’m sure I’ll meet other local writers, some of them established writers with their own – local – connections.  I can’t wait for the chance to sit among them, listen and discuss, and introduce myself. Not as a “writer on the side.” Not as a “writer- wanna- be.” But, a Writer.

If you signed up for the same workshop, you’ll recognize me even before introductions. I’ll be the one holding a strong cup of coffee, wearing a giddy smile, and sporting a brand new fancy pen with paper.

***

Hoffman, Scott and Ryan, Rachel Estrada. “Close, but No (Literary) Cigar.” Writer’s Digest, The Writer’s Yearbook 2010. Special issue: 28-31. Print.