"Show, don’t tell." Ideally, the author shows the reader everything, or nearly everything, and tells little. Yeah, yeah, you’ve heard that a million times, but what, exactly, is the difference?
These are telling. There's nothing really wrong with them, but they're lifeless and simply report.
Juan looked at himself in the mirror. His little brother pounded on the bathroom door, and Juan yelled at him to use the other bathroom. Juan wondered if his big brown eyes were sexy. His upper lip showed where his mustache would be, but something was wrong with his hair. Usually he was proud of his thick, shiny hair, but today it was lopsided, with a high, puffed-up spot on one side.
Benucci ran for his life. For the first time, he wished he’d exercised like he knew he should have. He panted for breath and felt himself slowing, not getting closer to the woods very fast. If he didn’t reach the cover of the woods, a bullet would find him.
Usually Maggie was one of the first ones to leave, but today she was late because she was having trouble pinning her shirt where the button had popped off. The girls didn’t notice that she was still getting dressed when they left the locker room, talking. She heard Jodie Brennan say that Maggie should be cut from the volleyball team because she couldn’t jump high enough to touch the top of the net. Since she hadn’t had a choice about being short, it hurt her feelings.
These are showing the same scene, but giving more than an observer could:
Juan studied his reflection despite his little brother’s pounding on the closed door. “Use the other bathroom, Ramon!” he yelled, his eyes never leaving the glass. Good eyes, big and brown—sexy?—and the hint of a mustache-to-be, but what was wrong with his hair? Usually he had good hair, thick and shiny as his sister’s, but today one side looked like he’d hidden a Nerf football under there.
Benucci ran like he hadn’t since junior high. Why had he let himself get so soft and slow? He gasped, his lungs burning, his legs rubbery, the woods and cover still far away. Ironic, that he was about to be shot because he didn’t join the YMCA!
Maggie winced and sucked at the bead of blood on her thumb. Why did she have to lose a button today? She was running so late. She’d just pushed the pin through a fourth time—still crooked—when she heard Jodie Brennan.
“Maggie? Shrimp shouldn’t even be on the team. Even jumping, she can’t touch the top of the net!”
The pin forgotten, Maggie felt her face heat. She didn’t choose to be short—it just happened. Like Jodie’s crooked teeth. Maybe Jodie shouldn’t be allowed in Choir!
A lot of the difference between telling and showing is the difference between describing what can be directly observed and letting the reader inside the character’s thoughts, reactions, and feelings.
Maryn, on her way to the second wedding in a week (but getting her AW fix!)
