OK, those of you who exactly who I am referring to [yes, I see your grins and nudges there in the back] understand where this is going. One short scene establishes that the individual 1) needs money 2) is involved with shady business*, and 3) has few qualms about preemptive self-defense. That everyone else in the bar shrugs and seems to think, “Yeah, that’s why you don’t let him get one hand under the table, dumb@ss,” shows that 4) he’s a known quantity in that part of the world. The scene is mostly show, a little tell. Watchers get a full dossier of Han Solo’s abilities and desires right in one small bit of film, and will expect him to do carefully considered, or sometimes impulsive, mercenary things later.

That’s a strength of visual media – show is much easier, since they are visual (and aural, so background music, accents, and so on can be a part of showing). We writers have to do things a little differently, but showing still works better than telling for revealing what readers need to know about a character.

Note: I said “need to know.” The author might be holding information back, or the character himself might, but readers need basics to get a mental image of what sort of person they are reading about. Or what sort of animal, depending on the story.

Characterization doesn’t come easily to some of us. Others have lots of characters, and can sketch them beautifully in a few words, then don’t quite know where to go with the plot. Recently, I’ve been catching myself trying to tell rather than showing. I suspect it comes from the nonfiction I’ve been plodding through (plod because of the complex subject matter, not because of writing problems). That doesn’t work with the book I’m trying to write.

The protagonist is a master of his trade and came by it through a lot of very hard work as well as natural talent. He’s also the son of two different noble houses, and supremely confident of his place in the world and the privileges due him, and he likes his luxuries. Yet that’s not how the story begins. It begins with sheep.

Tuathal stopped and listened. A fish-hunter glided overhead. Tuathal looked and caught a glimpse of the way ahead through the bird’s eyes. White clumps and dark in green, paler green trees, no dim-eyes. Tuathal sent silent thanks and a warning—feather hunters moved to the south, near the river. The pale-headed bird turned north and faded into the grey sky. Tuathal resumed his search. The sheep were not far—far for a keen-eyed bird. For a man? He shrugged. At least the mist hadn’t killed the sheep this time. 

Tuathal walked with an easy stride along the track. Only he and Deri and a few women used the old, half-sunken ways, and even they went only after taking precautions. He touched the rowen sprig tucked into the sprig-slit on his hood. The way climbed up, onto harder ground, and he heard the sound of sheep. But were they the sheep of the family, or did others use these lands? He would know once he crossed the stream.

What can you tell from the opening of the book (which is in very, very rough draft form)? Tuathal has the ability to see through birds’ eyes, he’s not too worried about old things, he knows how to use plant magic or charms, and he’s looking for sheep. A little setting, a little of the character, and a mystery (which will be sorted out in the second book, along with a few other things. Maybe.) You don’t see Tuathal’s real identity, because he’s deliberately hiding it, sort of. He has reasons.

There’s a lot of tell in that show, perhaps too much. As I said, this is a very rough draft. For your “homework,” or as a challenge, try to introduce a character with as few words and as much show as you can.

*He’s in the cantina, in Mos Eisley. Of course he’s in a dangerous business.