When "Telling" Is Forbidden

An article titled "Don't Tell, Show" challenges one of the most famous rules of fiction writing, calling it the most foolish rule in writing.

Guest note, Azadeh Jahan Ahmadi, author: In teaching writing, perhaps no sentence has been repeated as much as "show, don't tell". This phrase is heard so often in workshops, handbooks, and in the margins of manuscripts that few people question where it came from, what exactly it is trying to fix, and whether it is true in all situations. Freddie DeBoer, an American writer and cultural critic, grapples with these questions in the article "Great Writers Keep 'Saying'" published on Substack on March 20, 2026. [1]

On the one hand, DeBoer's article is a defense of the narrator's voice and the author's right to explain, generalize, and judge; On the other hand, it is critical of the way in which educational recommendations become fixed and unexceptional orders. By giving examples of Tolstoy, Jane Austen, George Eliot, Charles Dickens, Dostoyevsky and Nabokov, he shows that "telling" was not only present in the history of the novel, but sometimes it was at the center of fiction art.

But here the article reaches a more serious issue: when defending "saying", DeBoer sometimes expands its meaning so much that the technical distinction between saying and showing disappears. The result is that he takes a position against a common dogma, which tends to polarize in some positions. The value of the article lies in its correct questions; His weakness is in some hasty and general answers.

Frederick DeBoer, who writes as Freddie DeBoer, is an American author and cultural critic with a PhD in English language and literature. In his books and writings, he deals with education, culture, politics and mental health.

His two landmark books, Cult of Intelligence (2020) and How the Elites Swallowed the Social Justice Movement (2023), show that the author pays serious attention to the issue of education and the role of institutions in shaping social behavior and language. The same attention can be seen in the present article. DeBoer is not just talking about a narrative technique; It is about how the school, the workshop and the culture of writing can turn a limited recommendation into a strict standard.[1][2]

The article begins by referring to the "Notes" space of the substack; Where authors discuss writing principles, the publishing market, and best practices. DeBoer criticizes this space, but at the same time defends its importance. This opening is important, because it shows that the article is a response to a lively conversation, not an attempt to create a new problem from scratch.

DeBoer enters the discussion by quoting Lisa Leibs: "The dumbest rule of writing I've ever heard is 'show, don't tell.'" He then admits that this advice has a kernel of truth, but adds that it has almost no use for inexperienced writers. This point clarifies his position.

He is not opposed to "showing off". It is opposed to turning it into a command. In DeBoer's view, the problem begins when the teacher or judge of the workshop considers every sentence that explains, judges or conveys the author's thought as defective because it is "saying". In such an environment, reading the text is reduced to detecting a violation of a rule.

This concern is valid. When the evaluation criterion is "What does this paragraph do for the story?" to "Did the author say or show?" to change, the criticism will distance itself from the understanding of the work. A story is not just a collection of scenes; Choosing the time of narration, narrator's distance, tone, summarizing and interpretation are also part of making meaning.

The strongest part of the essay is where DeBoer defends the narrator's voice. He writes that the author is always a mediator; Always a voice between the singer and the event. This sentence is true and very important. A novel is not a neutral record of human behavior. The narrator chooses what to see, what to forget, what to consider important, and what to discard.

In the example of Jane Austen, DeBoer refers to the direct description of the characters. Austin writes with the humor and judgment of the narrator, and this tone is part of the pleasure of reading his works. If we want to prove all the traits of Austin's characters in long scenes, not only the rhythm of the story will be relaxed, but also that sharp and humorous look of the narrator will disappear.

The example of George Eliot is also important in this sense. DeBoer quotes from Middlemarch where the narrator reflects on the limitations of human perception. This sentence is not a scene; is to think But this thinking gives depth to the novel. Here, "saying" is something like thinking out loud.

The example of Lolita is brighter than the others. DeBoer says that if Humbert had "showed" instead of "telling," the novel would not have existed. This claim is a bit exaggerated, but it has the right direction. In Lolita, the main conflict is not only in the events; It is formed in the distance between what Humbert claims and what the reader understands through his language. An unreliable narrator is a product of telling, because the reader must simultaneously dwell in the narrator's mind and doubt it.

This section of the article takes the defense of "telling" beyond a simple defense of direct explanation. DeBoer shows that sometimes the character's way of speaking is the event of the story itself.

However, the article slips up where DeBoer writes: "In fiction, there is no 'showing.' In the strict sense of the word, there is only speaking.

This sentence is linguistically defensible. The story is made with words; The description, dialogue and even the action scene are narrated. But the advice with which DeBoer is concerned uses "saying" in a narrower sense: the direct declaration of a feeling, quality, or message.

When we write "She's afraid of me," the narrator announces the conclusion. When we write, "When I came in, he pulled his chair back and didn't look up until the end of the meeting," the narrator presents a behavior that the reader must interpret. Both are written in language, but they establish a different relationship between the narrator and the reader.

By generalizing the meaning of "saying", DeBoer eliminates this difference. He is right that even "showing" in prose is done with language, but it does not follow from this fact that the distinction between direct declaration and the provision of narrative evidence is unhelpful. This distinction is useful, if not used as an absolute rule.

His reference to the Latin root of the word "to narrate" also has the same problem. The fact that the word narrate comes from narrare and means telling and retelling shows that the story has a linguistic nature. But the artistic quality or function of the narrative cannot be concluded from the root of the word.

What do the examples prove?

The article's quotations from great works are enough to refute the "never say never" claim. Tolstoy makes a general proposition with the opening sentence of Anna Karenina. Dickens introduces characters with direct judgement. In Underground Notes, Dostoyevsky almost entirely uses the language of a pensive and neurotic narrator.

These examples show that "saying" can be artistic, necessary and effective. But it cannot be concluded from these examples that every direct statement is good. The power of Tolstoy's sentence does not come only from its directness; It comes from the brevity, symmetry, authoritative tone of the narrator and its relationship with the whole structure of the novel. If a less experienced writer, with the same style, begins his story by writing "good people are always happy", he will not necessarily reach the same conclusion.

The same problem can be seen in the example of Dickens. The direct description of character in Dickens works is in a context of humor, exaggeration, tone and narrative structure. It is dangerous to separate this sentence from its context and use it to justify any kind of direct explanation. Large samples prove the possibility of a method; They do not prove the quality of every application.

DeBoer sometimes crosses this border. From the existence of successful examples, he comes to a more general conclusion: the advice to show for novice writers is almost useless. These two claims are not the same. The first is about the history of the novel and the possibilities of language; The second is about training and its results. For the second claim, evidence of workshops, training methods, and feedback from writers is needed; What the article does not offer.

Historical claim and the issue of documentation

"Show, don't tell" in its present form has made its way into literature education mainly from playwriting and screenwriting, DeBoer says. This explanation is logically understandable. In cinema, the camera can record the behavior and in the play, the actor can perform the action. But in prose, the author is always between the reader and the event.

However, the article does not provide evidence for this historical claim. That a piece of advice is useful in cinema does not in itself prove that it originated in cinema. For this claim, one should refer to the sources of writing education, the history of creativity workshops and the evolution of this phrase.

This weakness does not reduce the importance of the discussion, but it lowers its accuracy. Where DeBoer has to investigate the history of an idea, he relies more on logical explanation and conjecture.

Novice writers and the problem of education

The most interesting and at the same time the most controversial part of the article is DeBoer's view of novice writers. Those who seek basic advice, he says, are precisely those least capable of applying that advice judiciously.

This sentence contains part of the truth. Learning does not always end with knowing the order. The author may know that he should avoid adverbs, but he does not know that in a specific sentence, the same adverb is the most accurate choice. He may know he must "show," but not know which scene is important and which explanation is necessary.

But it cannot be concluded from this fact that the advice is useless for beginners. Not knowing how to use it is the reason for the need for more detailed training, not the reason for discarding the recommendation. The instructor can accompany the advice with examples, exceptions, exercises and feedback. DeBoer himself considers the editing, the workshop and the reaction of the readers to be essential; The same processes that can teach the measured application of a principle.

The real problem with education is simplistic. When we offer advice without explaining its conditions, the student turns it into a command. But the correct answer is to give a more detailed recommendation, to remove the recommendation.

DeBoer's voice is evident in this article. He jokes, talks to himself, speaks directly and sometimes defends his position with a harsh tone. This tone energizes the essay and separates it from dry academic texts.

But this tone sometimes damages the discussion. When DeBoer says that "show, don't tell" is almost useless to inexperienced writers, the reader may forget that he is not arguing against the topical application of this advice. The title and tone of the article make the result appear more polar than what is stated in the text.

The final metaphors have the same effect. DeBoer compares the removal of the narrator's voice to "dismemberment" and "disarmament". These images are effective, but they bridge the gap between criticizing a teaching method and completely rejecting it. The reader may feel that the choice is only between preserving the author's voice and destroying it.

Despite these weaknesses, the article raises several important points.

First, the novel is not just a scene. Summarizing, explaining, reflecting and judging are the main tools of prose. If we turn everything into a scene, the story can become slow, monotonous and dull.

Second, the narrator's voice is part of the work's identity. Removing it under the pretext of neutrality may result in removing part of the character of the work.

Third, educational recommendations should be context-specific. A command that is repeated in all situations will soon turn from an aid to writing to a yardstick for measuring text.