Welcome to Telling Tuesday, a day reminiscent of those in school when I looked forward to seeing what everyone brought for show and tell. This weekly feature was 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.
” . . . descriptions can set the scene, convey the inexpressible, and turn the reader into a witness, instead of remaining a mere bystander.” — Mary Jaksch, author of the article
Each week, I’ll give a “telling” prompt, and invite you to show us, to make us a witness, not a mere bystander. Feel free to use the prompt, or the photo (if a photo is shown.) Of course, if you have a completely different “telling” prompt, you can “show” us that, too.
As always, I invite you to leave a link to your website or blog with your comments.
THIS WEEK’S PROMPT:
The other day, for some unknown reason, I began to feel sick to my stomach shortly after eating lunch. Thus, my prompt for this week. To “show” feeling sick, I’ve used an excerpt from Broken Dolls.
At this point, I’m not sure if I’ll use in the final draft of the book or not.
She felt sick.
Sumiko clutched her stomach and knew she must be an awful shade of green. She’d had morning sickness before boarding the ship, but comparing that to the queasiness she’d felt since the Korea-maru left Yokohama was like comparing waves on a shore to a tsunami. Whether she was standing or sitting, awake or asleep, the room rolled left and right, up and down. There was no way to escape it. And how could she possibly hover at the edge of retching once again? Surely by now, her stomach was completely empty.
Chopsticks trembled in her hand as she forced herself to take another bite of rice. She could not risk losing the child growing inside her, the only part of Taro she would ever have.