Show, Don’t Tell: What It Means and How to Do It
ut what do I mean by "exposition"?
Exposition is a literary tool that provides background information about characters, settings, and events, usually at the start of a story. It introduces key elements needed to understand the plot and can appear in dialogue, narrative, or description. This device is crucial in literature, film, and theater, helping audiences grasp main themes and character motivations.
So why is it annoying? Why is it bad? There are several reasons.
For one, having a character blurt out something important that defines another character’s motives is a poor way to write or explain what’s happening in the plot.
Example:
Girl One: What would your mom think about this?
Girl Two: I don’t know—she died in a car accident when I was three!
Imagine these lines in a movie (or written in a book) coming out of nowhere after a bunch of drama. It’s a lazy way to excuse a character’s behavior and dismiss any opportunity for subtle development. Instead of showing, in a nuanced way, that she’s been traumatized by her mother’s death, the writer just dumps the information. This applies to both film and novels, trust me.
In my book, Birthright, the protagonist, Cordelia, is sold as a fertile woman to become a breeder for a wealthy man named Avery. The story begins with her at the auction, reflecting on the process through fragmented, drugged memories of what led to that moment. There’s a bit of exposition about how she got there, but not too much—just enough to set the scene. Over the course of the novel, small hints are dropped about who she is, how she grew up, what her childhood was like, and what she thinks of her parents. It’s not one long monologue or pages of backstory dumped all at once.
Instead, we see Cordelia reacting to her present-day situation while gradually learning her backstory—sometimes through her thoughts, sometimes through dialogue with Avery. He doesn’t ask for her life story, and she doesn’t ask for his. Their relationship unfolds organically, with details revealed naturally, as they would in real life. Avery hides that he had a twin brother and that he was forced to murder another breeder girl. He buries this pain under drugs and alcohol. Just as you wouldn’t spill your entire life story to a stranger when you first meet, neither do these characters.
Another reason exposition dumps are bad is that they imply the audience is too stupid to think for themselves—that they can’t possibly figure out what’s going on unless it’s spelled out. If you tell your story naturally and effectively, people will understand it.
More importantly, if you reveal everything from the start—why it’s happening and what it all means—there’s no reason for the audience to keep reading (or watching, in the case of a movie). They already have all the information. A story should unfold gradually, allowing readers to learn and grow with the characters. You don’t need to know everything about a character at the beginning. As the story progresses, you collect tidbits of information. You might wonder, “Why did this character cut her hair if it’s so important to her?” Then, a few chapters later, a clue explains it. It’s like a mystery or a puzzle.
Puzzles aren’t fun, rewarding, or challenging if they have only a few pieces. Mysteries aren’t exciting if you already know who committed the crime. A book or film should build its world piece by piece, like a puzzle, until the entire picture comes together in one huge epiphany. Another great thing about storytelling is how people may interpret it differently. While the goal is to guide readers to the same basic conclusions through plot points and information, how they interpret it—what characters they empathize with—is what matters.
Imagine picking up a book that immediately says, “This is John. John is the bad guy. You don’t like him. He will never do anything good in this book.” Do you really want someone to tell you how to think about John? To decide he’s bad from the start? To leave no room for you to decide for yourself? Maybe John is truly bad, or maybe your interpretation of his actions feels justified.
Showing, rather than telling, helps the audience understand character motivations and creates a more immersive experience. Think of your favorite show, movie, or book series. How many of them built their characters over time versus dumping information point-blank and demanding you accept it? I’m willing to bet you don’t enjoy media that tries to control how you think about a character or talks down to you as if you couldn’t possibly understand the story. This is why showing is always better than telling—and always will be.
