Show, don’t tell.
That’s the iconic writing advice. Sensory details plunge us into a story and hold us captive. The more vivid and dramatic, the better, right?
Sometimes. But every storyteller has their limits.
I occasionally wonder if showing restraint in how intimately I portray dark scenes will hurt my career. Think about the most popular TV shows. They usually have some pretty traumatic and gruesome scenes, and those are constantly making the headlines. So like everyone else, I often have to make a choice. Which details enhance the story, and which ones take it too far?
Let’s take a look at the competition. Movies and TV are a hard act to follow in the entertainment world. They take an in-depth story and package it in an immersive and yet quickly digestible format, and we eat it right up. Between CGI, costuming and makeup, and of course the changing standards of what can be shown to audiences, our tolerance for violence, gore, and sexual content has seemed to increase dramatically.
Seemed to.
What is it about human beings that magnetizes us to the grimmest details? Why do we love true crime, horror, realistic gore, and heartbreakingly genuine performances from our actors? I won’t attempt to explain this phenomenon, but I do want to remind you that it’s not new. The ancestors we think would’ve been clutching their pearls at what we watch on Netflix were people who went to real-life executions. Seriously, I don’t know that they would be shocked at our modern habits.
So given our crazy fascination with the darkest of events, why not show it all?
In my case, I write primarily for myself, and I’ll tell you, I’m a lightweight. I can’t do horror, ever. I barely made it through Gladiator, and that came out in 2000. And as soon as the clothes start to come off, I’m shifting around looking for the remote.
I’m not going to pretend that makes me a better person. I just have a really intense imagination and have more trouble separating myself from the story enough to remember that it’s not real, or for that knowledge to make any difference to me. One thing that empowers me as a storyteller is that characters are real for me, so when I see a torture scene, to me that is real human suffering and causes me a great deal of distress that doesn’t wear off even once it’s over.
I don’t want anyone to feel like that when they’re reading my books. But I do want to grip them with plot, seduce them with character, and send a chill up their spine or a shock through their veins. So how do I balance those two things?
First, I have chosen a role model, and that’s Agatha Christie. I love her mysteries for their rich and funny characters, as well as their intense and twisty plots. But she never makes me afraid what I’m going to see on the next page in the sense of whether I’ll be traumatized. She has a delicate command of showing just enough to introduce the shock, fear, and even horror that moves the story along without taking you into it so deeply that you can’t sleep. Well, you might not be able to sleep because you’re so wired from wondering what’s going to happen next, but she won’t give you your own trauma.
That’s what I want to emulate. She shows me things that stun me with their impact without leaving me with that icky, hollow feeling that comes back in my darkest nights. There will be grim subjects; after all, many of her books are detective novels, tracking down murderers and uncovering all kinds of nasty secrets along the way. Like everyone else, I live for that stuff. But all the while, I know I am safe in her hands, and that’s what I want for you, dear reader.
In some ways, there is power in what she doesn’t show, not only in preserving readers from unnecessary violence, but because your imagination can do much more with a vague impression than it can with excruciating detail. This is one way she doesn’t lose power by not showing everything.
My other guiding light is balancing how much the reader needs to see or know in order to understand without turning my poor characters into a sick spectacle. You wouldn’t want that for someone you love, even if their story desperately needs to be told. So I sometimes shield them in the guise of shielding you.
As far as subject matter is concerned, I will happily be flagged with trigger warnings. But I don’t want my portrayal of that content to be so traumatic as to endanger the mental health or peace of mind of my readers. I’m not here to hurt you. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to make a powerful impact, occasionally cause discomfort, or force you to think about things that set you off balance. That’s what the best art does, but I’d like to remind you that those ends are all constructive.
I think the question we all need to ask ourselves as artists is this: At what point has the reader/viewer gotten the point, and further exposure could cause unnecessary trauma?
I can’t pretend to be your judge in this matter, especially in cases where you’re forcing humanity to face its own very real ugliness. But I do believe it’s important to your integrity as an artist where you draw this line.
As for me, I try to follow in the footsteps of Ms. Christie and express my love for both you and my characters by showing restraint. I have faith in your imaginations to fill in the gaps.
