As I browsed through the library’s fiction section, Stephen King’s Mr. Mercedes (2014) jumped from the shelf and into my hands. Well, not literally, but almost. For whatever reason, it grabbed my eye, so I gave it a quick look, then checked it out.
Call me out of touch, but this would be my first read from the horror master. Primarily because this story comprises mystery/suspense, rather than paranormal horror, which doesn’t interest me. (OK, a long time ago I did see the movie Carrie, starring Sissy Spacek.) But I’d recently heard an interview with Mr. King. His down-to-earth demeanor impressed me, so I figured I had put him off for long enough.
Despite my innate cynicism, I found myself enjoying the book. Not just the story, but the writing as well. Especially when I read a scene in which the killer (Brady) has received a message from the retired detective (Hodges) via social media.
After reading it, I thought, Hooray! This exemplifies my “editor’s mantra”: Show, don’t tell.
Rather than writing, “Brady is really pissed off about the detective’s message,” King crafts this scene:
“What are you talking about?” he [Brady] says, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He gets up and strides around in an unsteady circle on legs like stilts, yanking at his hair so hard his eyes water. . . .
He [Hodges] has even had the nerve to put in a smiley-face!
Brady kicks his chair, hurting his toes and sending it rolling all the way across the room, where it bangs the wall. Then he turns and runs back to his Number Three computer, hunching over it like a vulture. His first impulse is to reply immediately, to call the fucking cop a liar, an idiot with fat-induced early-onset Alzheimer’s, an anal ranger who sucks his nigger yardboy’s cock. Then some semblance of rationality—fragile and wavering—reasserts itself. He retrieves his chair and goes to the city paper’s website. He doesn’t even have to click on BREAKING NEWS in order to see what Hodges has been raving about; it’s right there on the front page of tomorrow’s paper.
What makes this “showing” rather than “telling”? King’s use of strong monologue and active voice: the use of simple yet descriptive verbs:
- gets up (or stands up, straightens up)
- turns and runs
The poster child for “telling,” for passive voice, manifests itself as “It was . . .” (or “It is . . .”) and variations on that theme. As in “It was a dark and stormy night. . . .”—the opening line of one of the most maligned passages in English literature.
Passive voice, telling: She was angry.
Active voice, showing: She kicked him in the balls.
Showing reflects action, reaction, and response.
Passive voice often leaves the reader with questions, as in this so oft-used phrase that it’s become a cliché : “A sound (or shot) was heard.”
Really? A sound was heard by whom?
Strong writing provides clarity: Otto heard a sound and snapped to attention.
Passive voice depersonalizes writing; it distances the story and characters from the reader. It’s the voice of academics (especially historians) and journalists, and it’s pedantic and plodding. (And it’s probably what you were taught in school.)
I also find “telling” and passive voice tinged with a degree of arrogance, as if the story teller/academic/journalist is saying, in effect, “Nyah, nyah, niyahnah, I know more than you do.” It comes across as condescending, talking down to the reader, as if the reader is too dim to understand what’s happening.
Readers like stories that have strong, memorable characters, but passive voice dilutes the power of your prose. I cheer up when I read a newspaper with an example of narrative nonfiction (also called creative nonfiction), which applies the techniques of fiction writing to nonfiction.
More than a century ago, Mark Twain wrote: “. . . [U]se plain, simple language, short words and brief sentences. That is the way to write English—it is the modern way and the best way.” Yet, almost daily I see writers using an anachronistic, 19th century style.
Any time you find yourself writing “it was . . .” (or he/she was . . .) stop and ask yourself: How can I make this better by using active voice and showing, rather than telling? Of course, you can’t weed it out entirely, but keep the use of the verb “to be”—“is,” “was,” “were” and “would”—to a minimum by using simple yet descriptive verb forms and active voice. The use of “to be”—especially “was”—dilutes the effect, takes the punch out of your prose. It gives your writing the “wuzzies.”
Sure, for expedience you can use passive voice when outlining your narrative, when writing your first pass, when you simply want to get your thoughts down on paper (or into an electronic device). But when rewriting and polishing your prose, juice up it and quicken the pace with active voice, especially when conveying emotion, as King has done in the passage cited above. Your readers, without even realizing it, will love you for it, because it engages them, it draws them into the story.
If you show, you don’t need to tell. If she kicks him in the balls, the reader gets that she’s angry. You don’t need to say it.
Then again, what do I know? See: I Know Nothing About Writing