All the writers in the world have heard the principle of “show, don’t tell” by now. Those who have written a little longer also know that it’s not really true. At least, not all the time.
Sometimes you want to show and sometimes you want to tell. In any story, there are parts you decide to turn into full, detailed scenes … and parts that you explain to the reader in a quick paragraph and move on. Life is infinitely detailed—you have to make choices about what gets the spotlight and what is summarized.
The trick is to know when to show and when to tell. And that trick is hard to finetune.
Some time ago, I noticed I was still doing way too much showing. I noticed it when I felt unmotivated and bored by writing yet another action scene that goes on for a few pages, when all that really mattered was who won and who fled.
I feel this is the second stage for most writers. After going all-in on “telling” for their first few books, they snap to the other extreme and go all-in on “showing” for some stories. What should’ve been a quick heads-up from character A to character B, becomes an entire scene with a lengthy dialogue. What should’ve been a simple mention that your protagonist went somewhere, bought something, and returned, obviously has to become an entire scene showing the entire way there and the interaction with the cashier.
Sure, you are really immersing the reader, providing all the details and nuances. My hyperactive brain really likes this and therefore has naturally leaned towards showing everything in full-blown scenes ever since I started writing.
But you’re immersing them in mundane activities and a book that’s 200 pages too long. It’s not great, not for most readers.
Hopefully, this means I am now at the third and balanced stage I described just now: a nice balance between show and tell.
Which means that recently, for the first time ever (or as far as I can remember), I wrote something that happened off screen!
I had planned two chapters with a big fight between the two clashing parties (which was basically the climax of this short story) … then left the project alone for a few weeks. Because it didn’t feel interesting to write. It felt a bit repetitive and it would’ve gone way over my established word count. (This was for The Saga of Life, which has a 15,000 word limit on each short story.)
When I returned, I looked at the planning and immediately thought: “The fight’s not important. It’s important that X does Y and eventually Z resolves the main plot line. A blow by blow, describing each weapon fired or each tree that burns down, achieves nothing. It should only be there to set the scene and immerse the reader a little bit.”
And so the fight was reduced to a handful of summarized paragraphs. Set the scene, provide some sensory details, describe the general flow of the fight (with only one or two specifics). Then immediately jump into that important action, which leads to the other important action that resolves the story.
It felt silly at first. Almost like cheating. Surely, the readers would think I just skipped the entire climax or was too lazy to write something here?
But it wasn’t. I wrote it, read it back, and it felt fine. I left it alone again, read it back some time later, and it was still fine.
A big fight happened 95% “off-screen” and I think it was great. Because the 5% that did happen in the moment, with details being shown and expanded upon, was the only interesting part. Or the only part that mattered to the plot.
From now on, I will surely apply this more often. I feel like every scene should have a main focus, which is the one thing that you show and work out in a detailed way. It’s the one thread throughout the entire scene, moving at the slowest pace. (As in, line by line dialogue, line by line movements or actions, from start to finish.)
But anything else that’s less interesting or relevant can be summarized. It feels weird, however, to summarize things that happen right now or right inside the scene. When you describe a dialogue in detail, second by second, it feels very weird to have other actions (that might be much more grandiose or longer in duration) be summarized with short one-liners. As if you’re constantly fast-forwarding the scene, then rewinding, then fast-forwarding again.
And thus, making it happen “off-screen” actually feels like the better solution. If possible, move anything that’s not the main focus out of the scene so it feels more natural to summarize it.
For example, if two characters are on a battle field, move them away from the most action so they have an overview and can summarize the events. If they’re right there, amidst the action and people swinging swords at them, it feels weird to …
- Show this scene in detail. Their blow-by-blow, every step, every line of dialogue, you’re really there in the moment.
- Only to say something like “three people attacked her, but after a flurry of movements, they were swept aside after a few minutes”. Or “for the past hour, our soldiers clashed with the enemy on top of the red hill, neither making any headway”
Maybe it’s just me. It feels weird to speed up and slow down time constantly, as if you can’t make up your mind.
For this exact example (of “battle scenes”), you can invent many other solutions. Perhaps the summary comes from a messenger. Or you completely ignore what happens elsewhere, delivering a summarized account of that in some “debriefing” afterwards, or when switching viewpoints in the next chapter.
The more I write stories, the more I feel the need to have some elements off-screen. The repetitive elements, the “expected” elements, perhaps the “least-interesting” elements. I don’t want to write them out, showing them in detail—which means the reader surely doesn’t want to read that. And off-screen feels better than injecting summaries inside other scenes.
Now, a final retort could be: if it’s so uninteresting or repetitive, why not leave it out entirely?
Sure, you could do that for some things. You could say “well surely the reader can think a few steps ahead and realize the fight ended in a stalemate, as nobody has claimed victory yet”.
In my experience, however, you can ask the reader to think one step ahead, but not more. That’s just too much. At some point, you’re just not writing a story anymore and having the reader imagine all of it themselves :p
A one-paragraph summary of off-screen events is a great way to quickly ensure the reader is up-to-date and reminded of what matters. It takes almost no words to tell the reader a brief “catch me up”, while it prevents piles of confusion and mental effort.
- If only the outcome of your event matters, then have the event off-screen.
- If some details of the event matters for your current scene, just have summarized reminders within the text.
- If the how of the event matters, then show it in more detail, probably its own chapter.
- (And if you’re not sure, or it doesn’t feel strong enough, find a way to make the event more interesting and more relevant. Invent a few more things that could happen or revelations to make that “justify” showing this event in detail. And if you really can’t find that, then it’s a tell-tale sign to just cut the event entirely.)
Frankly, I can’t believe I’m saying this. When I was young, I often criticized movies for making important stuff happen off-screen. You can find (Dutch) book reviews from long ago that complain stories build up to certain events and then deal with them in one off-screen paragraph.
Now I understand why they did it—in some cases, at least, at other times it’s clearly budget cuts or something and it’s a terrible idea—and hopefully this article shines a light on when and how to do so.
Those were my quick thoughts about showing, telling, summarizing and letting things happen off-screen. (Or off-page, I should say, but this applies to all storytelling of course. Off-screen is simply the more common term.)
Don’t be surprised if my later stories have a few more off-screen events,
Tiamo