"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." — Anton Chekhov

The Power of “Show, Don’t Tell” in Writing: Chekhov’s Timeless Wisdom

Anton Chekhov’s quote, “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass,” offers one of the most fundamental pieces of advice for any writer: the art of “show, don’t tell.” This principle, simple in theory but challenging in practice, transforms ordinary writing into something vivid and immersive. It’s about making the reader experience the world of your story rather than simply reading about it. Let’s explore the depth of this technique, how it shapes the writing process, and why it’s essential for creating compelling stories.

What Does "Show, Don’t Tell" Really Mean?

“Show, don’t tell” is a common directive in creative writing, and Chekhov's quote perfectly encapsulates its essence. Instead of giving readers a flat statement—like “the moon is shining”—which tells them what’s happening, writers are encouraged to paint a picture with their words. By showing “the glint of light on broken glass,” you not only imply that the moon is shining, but you also evoke a specific scene that engages the senses, conveys a mood, and allows readers to interpret the situation in their own way.

At its core, “show, don’t tell” means relying on sensory details, actions, and concrete imagery to immerse readers in the moment. It encourages writers to trust their audience’s intelligence and imagination, allowing them to draw their own conclusions and feel more involved in the narrative.

The Emotional Impact of Showing

One of the main reasons Chekhov's advice is so powerful is because showing has a much stronger emotional impact than telling. When you simply tell the reader what’s happening, there’s little room for emotional engagement. But when you show them what a character is experiencing—through subtle actions, body language, and atmosphere—you invite the reader to feel what the character feels.

For example, instead of writing, “She was nervous,” you could show her wringing her hands, biting her lip, or shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The reader can sense her unease through these small details, and it becomes a shared experience. This approach brings the reader closer to the character and makes the scene more relatable, because we recognize those physical cues in ourselves and others.

Similarly, when Chekhov says “the glint of light on broken glass,” he’s doing more than telling us that it’s nighttime and the moon is out. He’s also creating an image rich with atmosphere: the broken glass suggests something is amiss, perhaps danger or destruction, and the light shining off of it adds a sense of coldness or tension. These details convey much more than just the presence of the moon—they imply a mood and invite the reader to wonder what happened to cause the glass to break.

Creating Immersive Worlds

One of the main benefits of showing over telling is that it makes your story world feel real and alive. The more specific and vivid your descriptions, the more the reader can imagine themselves inside the world you’ve created. This is especially important in fiction, where the goal is often to transport readers into a different reality.

Think of writing like a movie director behind the camera. Instead of telling the audience, “This is a romantic scene,” you use the visual elements—the lighting, the expressions, the music—to create that feeling without explicitly saying it. In writing, you do the same thing with words, focusing on the details that will evoke the mood you want.

For instance, instead of telling your readers that “it was a dark and stormy night,” you can show them the way rain pelts against the windows, the trees bending in the howling wind, and the low rumble of distant thunder. These details pull readers into the scene and make them feel as though they are experiencing the storm themselves, rather than passively reading about it.

This technique not only makes your writing more vivid but also helps build atmosphere and tension. Whether you’re writing a romantic moment or a thrilling action sequence, showing allows you to heighten the emotional and sensory impact of the scene.

Avoiding the Pitfalls of Telling

One of the dangers of telling is that it can make your writing feel flat or uninspired. When you rely on abstract statements—like “She was sad” or “The city was beautiful”—you deprive the reader of the richness of detail that could make those emotions or settings come to life. Telling can feel like a shortcut that robs the reader of the opportunity to truly engage with the story.

When writers overuse telling, they often fall into the trap of explaining too much. For example, instead of letting a character’s actions speak for themselves, they might explain their motivations in excessive detail. This not only slows the pacing of the story but also makes the characters feel less authentic. Real people don’t constantly explain themselves, and neither should fictional characters. By showing, you trust the reader to pick up on the subtleties of the situation without needing to be spoon-fed the meaning.

Balancing Show and Tell

While “show, don’t tell” is a valuable guideline, it’s important to remember that not every moment in a story needs to be shown. Telling has its place, especially when you need to quickly convey information that isn’t crucial to the emotional core of the scene. For example, transitions, background information, or unimportant actions can be told succinctly to keep the story moving.

The key is to find a balance. Use telling when it serves the story’s pacing, but lean on showing for moments of emotional weight or when you want to draw the reader into the scene. Chekhov’s advice encourages us to elevate our writing by focusing on the most meaningful, evocative details.

Conclusion: Show the Moonlight on the Glass

Anton Chekhov’s wisdom about showing rather than telling challenges writers to dig deeper into their stories. By showing, you don’t just describe the events or emotions; you bring them to life. You invite readers to participate in the experience, to feel what your characters feel, and to immerse themselves in the world you’ve created.

The next time you sit down to write, remember the moon and the glint of light on broken glass. Trust in the power of vivid details, and let your readers see, feel, and taste the story you’re telling. It’s not just about describing the scene—it’s about creating an experience that resonates long after the final word is read.