Exercise Your InkTank
The issue of filtering came up recently (thanks Mike!) and I wasn’t quite sure what that had to do with showing and telling, but after a little investigation, I now see what the story is. Here’s an example of what Janet Burroway calls filtering in her book On Writing. (Let’s assume that the following passages are drawn from the middle of a story about Mark, told in 3rd person limited POV.)
1. Mark could see the Ginkgos on his fence’s perimeter. He thought the leaves looked like loose hands flapping.
2. The Gingko leaves on the fence’s perimeter flapped like loose hands.
There are several differences between these two versions of the same scene, but the distinction Burroway would make has to do with the immediacy of the language. In the first version, the words he could see and he thought serve to slow down the storytelling. Phrases such as he could, he thought, he sensed, he saw, he looked, he watched, and he knew only tell us what we already know—we don’t need to be reminded that the narrator is telling the story from the character’s point-of-view—and thus they clog up the prose. They tell, when showing is the stronger choice.
The second version creates a more intimate cognitive experience for readers because it places them in direct contact with language we might reasonably assume is coming directly from the character. We’re seeing the Ginkgo leaves with Mark; that’s a different experience than seeing Mark seeing the Ginkgo leaves. You see?
I would add to Burroway’s assessment that sometimes a heightened awareness of the narrator/character relationship isn’t such a bad thing. If you want your narrator to editorialize the character’s behavior, for example, phrases like he could, he thought, he sensed, he saw, he looked, he watched, and he knew can come in handy. They inflate the distance between narrator and character and you become aware of one’s thoughts as slightly distinct from the other. Consider these passages from the same story about Mark:
1. Mark could see that Lara was starting to like him. It was in her face, he thought, the way it was less tight in the corner of her jaw. The shift was subtle, but he was sure of it. Soon he’d ask her again: Could she ever love a man like him?
2. Lara’s face was less tight than it had been the last time he’d asked for her heart. It was time to ask her again.
I think both passages work to convey an awareness of Mark’s ignorance to the reader, but the first version is more clear on that count. In one sense, the first passage is about what Mark thinks and what he thinks he can see. (It might also be about what he doesn’t see.) The point? When these kinds of phrases can serve a purpose, they may be worth inserting; otherwise, though, they tend to dull the storytelling. It’s the classic balance between showing and telling that we’re after. But now we have two new tools to take into battle.
Dilating and Contracting
Choose one of the approaches we’ve talked about today and go crazy with one of the four example passages above. Expand the distance between narrator and character in order to editorialize Mark’s thoughts and behaviors, or collapse the distance between narrator and character in order to bring your readers in close to Mark’s experience of the world. Aim for a complete passage.
