Telling Tuesday. Reminiscent of those days in school when I looked forward to seeing what everyone brought to show and inspired by an article on WriteToDone.com, called “How to Show (Not Tell): A Writing Lesson from John LeCarre.”
It is one of the best articles I’ve seen on the rule all writers know–show, don’t tell–because it doesn’t just tell us how not to tell, it shows us some of LeCarre’s very own examples.
This week’s prompt was inspired by a passage in a book I’m reading, Life of Pi. Here’s the excerpt:
Richard Parker has stayed with me. I’ve never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares, mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. That pain is like an axe that chops at my heart.
So, here’s this week’s “telling” prompt. What can you “show” us?
She was sad when he left.
Here’s an excerpt from a story I wrote several years ago (Voices, Volume I, High Hill Press, 2008) about a couple and their sailboat called “Haiku”:
He pulled away from her driveway with Haiku in-tow, leaving her feeling as empty as her now vacant garage. Sadness hovered like a gray cloud when a realization fixed itself in her heart – a realization as clear as the 800 pound gorilla that stood in the corner, its arms crossed in mock satisfaction.
Their dance was nearing an end. Like the sailboats she’d watched on San Francisco Bay, their souls had moved toward each other, but never touched.
And sailing Haiku wouldn’t change anything.
Her bed is empty
Train whistle cries far away
She hugs her pillow.
I’m looking forward to reading your “show” part of show and tell!