You're Showing Too Much

If you’ve been interested in writing for more than a year, and have read at least two blogs or books on writing, you’ve heard “show, don’t tell.” I talked about it here myself. And as I also talk about there, sometimes we lose the point among all the emphasis – we tell, instead of show, how to show instead of tell. But it doesn’t end there.

I didn’t even realize the problem existed. I was enlightened of its malicious presence this past week, after following a link to a free e-book. (I may make Wednesday’s my e-book learning day – the material to be found in such places…but anyway). The problem, for those who skipped past the title of this post, is showing too much.

I’ve changed the name of the character, and I won’t say the book title or author’s name. Supposedly it has been read (and presumably loved) by thousands. It’s book one of a lengthy series. I read page one of the prologue in the free preview offered by Amazon, and put it away. Then I thought, well, sometimes people try to get funky with the prologue; I’ll read chapter 1 in case it gets better.

I’m not sure how to put this, because I’m aware I have my own self-published anthology on Kindle; but there’s a reason editors have been around as long as they have. So let’s take a look at the opening scene of this book I found, and see what happens. What I want to focus on primarily is setting detail – what do we know about setting at the end of each paragraph. I’ll use superscript numbers for each detail. Let’s go:

“The sun sank slowly over the mountains to the west¹, taking with it warmth² and leaving behind a streak of crimson. The air was cool², cooler now without the direct sunlight to warm the forest³ below. Winter was coming sooner⁴ than most hoped it would, and apparently it was coming with a vengeance². The atmosphere of the treed canopy changed almost subconsciously as insects began to buzz and nocturnal predators began to stir¹. The wind blew cold², wistfully down the mountain slopes as breath turned to crystals² and day turned to night¹.”

Here’s what we know so far:

¹ Time of day.

² Temperature.

³ Specific location of POV.

⁴ Time of year.

Let’s continue, using the same numbers, picking up a few extras, too:

“Steve tracked the beast stealthily through the forest³, carefully deciding each footfall. The rains had begun a week earlier, softening the loam and fallen leaves⁵ cushioning each step. Occasionally he would lose sight of the crafty creature behind brush or a large tree, though tracking it thus far had been easy enough. Several times he believed he had a shot but, unwilling to take it and miss, had not yet drawn his bow.

“Thus he crept silently stalking the beast, arrow knocked, waiting for the perfect shot that he feared would never come. Though it was late in the fall⁴ and leaves⁵ carpeted the forest³ floor, the canopy above him was vast and still blocked out much of the light¹. The scent of rain was heavy in the air and from time to time he could see a glimpse of the cloud-covered sky above. Darkness was nearing¹ and with it yet another storm.”

⁵ Type of ground.

I nit-picked a little in that last section, I admit: but that tends to happen as a problem recurs continually. Each of these missteps mount up, nettling me ever more until I put the book away in disgust.

But you see my point: unless your readers are very, very young, or have Alzheimer’s, you don’t need to tell them five times that it’s evening and night is approaching, or five times that it’s cold – certainly not five times in two or three paragraphs – even if you’re changing how you’re telling them.

So read over what you’ve written: when a setting detail is given (time of day, time of year, temperature, weather, location, age of character, et cetera) mark it down, and don’t mention it again until it changes.



Because if you’re not careful, you might show too much. And people don’t usually go for that.