There’s a moment every writer meets—a line of dialogue or internal monologue that feels right, even powerful, but rings flat on the page. You wrote, “She realized she was in love.” It’s honest. It’s true. It’s also dead.
In the words of Chuck Palahniuk,
“Thinking is abstract; knowing and believing are intangible. Your story will always be stronger if you just show the physical actions and details of your characters and allow your reader to do the thinking and knowing.”
That’s the edge—the difference between a story that tells itself and one that breathes through the skin of the reader. The key? Cut the filter. Strip out the thought-verbs and observations. Let your reader crawl into the room and witness it for themselves.
This is where most beginner writers falter—not because they lack ideas or heart, but because they get in the reader’s way. They explain. They interpret. They hover like a narrator who doesn’t trust their audience to get it. But readers are sharper than you think, and fiction—good fiction—trusts them to read between the lines. In other words, instead of saying what a character feels or knows, let readers experience how it happens through concrete detail. This post – aimed at beginner fiction writers – will build on Palahniuk’s advice and similar wisdom: approach each scene like a detective interrogating a witness, focus on action and sensory detail, and ruthlessly snip out “filter words.” Every point below includes examples to make the idea clear.
Be the Detective of Your Scene
Rather than telling the reader that a character felt something (or even worse, had a thought), show it through actions and clues. Ask: What would an eyewitness see, hear, or do in this moment?
Don’t say:
“James was nervous about the meeting.”
Ask yourself: What does nervous look like? Sound like? How does it behave under pressure?
Instead, write:
James tapped the edge of his coffee cup until a crack split the ceramic. He didn’t notice. His tie sat askew, loosened just enough to hint at a last-minute decision to look composed. The elevator dinged. He stood too quickly, knocking his chair into the desk behind him.
Let the scene do the work. When you write like this, the reader doesn’t just know James is nervous—they feel it in the tension between the words. Trust that.
- Describe behavior and body language. Show character reactions with physical cues. For example, instead of writing “Sarah was angry,” you might write: “Sarah’s jaw clenched so tight she could hear her own teeth grind. She slammed her fist on the table and took a sharp breath.” That way readers infer anger from Sarah’s behavior.
- Use dialogue or setting as evidence. Rather than stating a feeling, give details that imply it. For example, “She forced a smile, voice tight.” shows tension without naming the emotion.
- Let the reader infer emotions from context. Palahniuk’s rule is to “un-pack” any telling sentence into a sequence of sensory details. If a character “knew” something, give the facts that lead to that realization. If a character wants something, describe what that something is and explain the longing for it.
By interrogating the scene and answering the five Ws – Who, What, Where, Why, How? – the writer gathers clues instead of giving away conclusions. Readers are smart: if you plant details (a wet umbrella, a slammed door, an empty coffee cup), they’ll piece together that maybe your character is upset or in a hurry, without you having to say it outright.
Snip the Filter Words
Filter words are verbs and phrases that “filter” the narrative through a character’s perspective – e.g. saw, felt, heard, realized, wondered. They create distance, as if the reader is hearing the story secondhand. For immersive fiction, these are often best cut or replaced with direct detail. Kelly Sanford, a three-time Royal Palm Literary Award winner warns that overusing filter words is “like asking your reader to watch your story unfold while looking through a dirty window,” AKA you need to clean out the gunk for a clear view.
Common filter words to watch for include: see/saw, hear/heard, feel/felt, look/looked, notice/noticed, realize/realized, know/knew, wonder/wondered, think/thought, etc. For example:
Compare:
“She heard the rain tapping on the roof.”
Vs.
“Rain tapped on the roof, a staccato rhythm like fingers drumming on an empty table.”
In the first version, the sentence goes through the character. In the second, it just happens. We’re in the moment with the character, not watching them experience it from afar.
Another example:
“She saw the cat scamper across the road.”
Vs. “A black cat darted across the road.” Or “A black shadow was seen sprinting across the road with ears perked up as though chasing something.”
Focus on Actions and Senses (Not Thought)
Filter words often accompany “head verbs” (thoughts or senses). Replace them by describing what’s actually happening. Show a character’s senses in action rather than stating “she smelled coffee” or “he heard music.”
You might be tempted to write:
“Daniel knew the room was too quiet.”
But that robs the reader of the opportunity to sense it for themselves. Replace it with action or sensory detail:
The hum of the fridge had stopped. Even the clock seemed to hold its breath. Daniel shifted his weight, suddenly aware of his own heartbeat.
Avoid stating what characters know, think, or believe. Instead, give readers the raw data—the weight of a pause, the tightness of a grip, the way a voice catches at the end of a sentence—and trust them to draw their own conclusions.
Your job is to build the room. Let them walk through it.
- Instead of: “She smelled the roses.”
Try: “Warm, honeyed rose petals brushed her cheek as she walked past the garden.” - Instead of: “He heard footsteps.”
Try: “Leather soles thudded on the pavement behind him.”
As Iris Marsh explains, filtering a scene through a character is like hearing a story secondhand; removing filters “is like the reader gets to attend the party themselves—feel the bass thumping in their chest… taste the too-sweet cocktails.” For action, describe motion and reactions. Instead of “He felt scared,” show it: “His breath hitched and teeth chattered as the shadow moved closer.” For thought, do the same. Palahniuk advises: “Instead of characters knowing anything, you must present the details that allow the reader to know them.” In practice, turn internal states into external clues.
Draft Freely, Edit for Showing
Remember: you can always “word vomit” in a first draft. Get the ideas and emotions down without overthinking. You might write “I felt cold” or use a filter word now, then fix it later. Your first draft is allowed to be messy. In fact, it should be. Let the thoughts tumble out. The key is in the revision.
- First pass: Focus on scene flow and ideas. It’s okay if you use telling language or filter words at this stage.
- Revision: Circle or search for filter words and thought verbs. For each, ask: “How can I show this instead?” Replace “felt, saw, heard, knew” with vivid description. For example, you can use the search and highlighting function to mark every “feel,” “think,” “look,” etc., then rewrite them on the final pass.
- Be ruthless but purposeful: Cut or replace filter words unless they serve a special purpose. Sometimes a simple narrator voice (e.g. in summaries) can use filter words, but in scenes and descriptive prose, you must lean on action. If a filter word seems indispensable, double-check – often there’s a clearer, sharper way.
By treating writing like detective work, you often uncover better details. For instance, instead of dumping “She was exhausted,” dig deeper. Was she yawning, eyes drooping, moving slowly? Show those clues. The hunt for specifics usually strengthens the narrative.
Example:
First Draft:
I felt embarrassed when he ignored me.
Second Draft:
He walked past without a glance. My stomach flipped. I reached for my phone—pretending to scroll, pretending not to care. That’s the magic of the second draft. That’s where writing starts to breathe.
Show vs. Tell Examples (Before & After)
Let’s look at some common “tell” statements and how to turn them into scenes that live:
1. Tell:
Ava was furious.
Show:
Ava didn’t speak. She just swept her coffee mug off the table, watched it shatter, then walked out—leaving behind a silence so sharp it cut.
2. Tell:
He felt lonely.
Show:
The couch cushion beside him held its shape too long. He poured two mugs of coffee, paused, and poured one back into the pot.
3. Tell:
Maria knew they were lying.
Show:
They wouldn’t meet her eyes. Tom kept adjusting his collar. Leila giggled too loud, too late. Maria smiled, nodded—but folded her arms and leaned back like she had all day.
4. Tell:
I was scared to speak.
Show:
My throat tightened. Words queued up behind my teeth, but none came out. I fiddled with the frayed edge of my sleeve and hoped someone else would speak first.
5. Tell:
Jason hated his job.
Show:
Jason stared at the blinking cursor on his screen. The fluorescent light above him buzzed like a fly in a jar. Lunch break was over, and he still hadn’t opened his inbox.
Use it during your edits to tighten your scenes, cut filter words, and write fiction that breathes.
