Master the crucial skill of deciding what to show in real-time versus summarize. Learn how to keep readers engaged by dramatizing the right moments while skipping the boring parts.
The Fatal Mistake That Makes Novels Feel Like Bad Transcripts
You’re reading a novel. The protagonist just discovered their best friend has been lying to them for years. This should be devastating. You’re ready for the confrontation, the emotional explosion, the dramatic reckoning.
Instead, the next chapter opens with:
“After my fight with Marcus last night, I couldn’t sleep. He’d admitted everything—the affair with my sister, the embezzlement from our company, the lies about where he’d been every Tuesday for three years. I’d screamed. He’d cried. Eventually we both just sat there in silence until he left. Now, the morning after, I stared at my coffee and replayed the whole conversation in my mind…”
You’ve been robbed.
The most dramatic moment of the novel—the confrontation readers have been building toward for 200 pages—happened off the page. You get a recap instead of the actual experience.
Why does this feel so unsatisfying?
Because novels aren’t transcripts of events. They’re not depositions or police reports summarizing what happened. Novels are immersive experiences where readers live through crucial moments alongside characters.
When you recap your dramatic moments instead of dramatizing them, you’re essentially telling readers: “Something interesting happened, but you don’t get to experience it. Here’s what I remember about it afterward.”
This guide breaks down the crucial skill of choosing what to show in real-time versus what to summarize—a decision that determines whether readers stay immersed in your story or feel perpetually kept at arm’s length.
Understanding the Fundamental Difference: Showing vs. Recapping
The Sitcom Strategy (And Why It Doesn’t Work in Novels)
Classic sitcom structure:
Seinfeld is built on characters recapping dramatic events:
- Elaine meeting JFK Jr. at the gym (told, not shown)
- Kramer’s wild adventures (recounted to Jerry)
- George’s famous “the sea was angry that day” whale story (monologue about past event)
Why this works on TV:
- Visual compensation: Actors’ facial expressions, timing, and physical comedy deliver entertainment even during recaps
- Budget constraints: Can’t afford to actually film George on a whale or Kramer’s elaborate scenarios
- Reaction shots: Camera captures other characters’ responses, creating comedy through reaction
- Performance: A talented actor makes the telling itself entertaining
- Format demands: 22-minute episodes need efficient storytelling
Why this fails in novels:
- No visual compensation: Reader only gets words, not performance or reaction shots
- Double distance: Readers already imagine everything—recaps add another layer of removal
- Lost immediacy: Experiencing events secondhand through character memory feels distant
- Confusion about priorities: Why show boring moments in real-time but recap exciting ones?
- Broken immersion: Constantly being told about events rather than experiencing them
The Screenplay Trap
Many emerging writers mentally “see” their novels as movies, leading to problematic habits:
The symptoms:
- Excessive dialogue: Pages of characters talking without action, description, or interiority
- Static scenes: Characters standing/sitting and conversing endlessly
- Missing sensory detail: No attention to setting, physical sensations, atmosphere
- Absent interiority: No access to character thoughts, feelings, or perceptions
- Awkward recaps: Dramatic moments summarized instead of experienced
What’s being missed:
When you watch a film, you’re absorbing:
- Setting and visual composition
- Facial expressions and body language
- Vocal tone and inflection
- Music and sound design
- Editing and pacing
- Physical movement and action
If your novel only provides dialogue, you’re not even replicating what a film offers—you’re providing less information while also removing the unique strength of novels: interiority.
The Novel’s Unique Power: Interiority
What novels can do that film/TV cannot:
Direct access to consciousness:
- Exact thought processes
- Emotional nuance
- Sensory experience from inside
- Memory and association
- Interpretation and misinterpretation in real-time
Example of what film can’t capture:
Marcus said, “I love you.”
In film: We see Marcus say it, see protagonist’s face respond
In novel: Marcus said, “I love you,” and Emma felt her chest constrict. Those three words she’d craved for months now felt like a trap snapping shut. Love meant vulnerability meant eventual betrayal meant the same devastation her mother experienced. She heard herself say “I love you too” while her mind screamed warnings she couldn’t articulate.
The novel reveals the gap between external response and internal reality—something film can only hint at through performance.
The Golden Rule: Dramatize Your Dramatic Moments
What “Dramatize” Actually Means
Dramatization = Showing events in real-time as they unfold
The reader experiences the moment alongside the protagonist, with:
- Direct dialogue (not reported speech)
- Immediate sensory detail
- Real-time action and reaction
- Present-tense interiority (even in past-tense narration)
- Full scene structure (not summary)
Example – Dramatized confrontation:
Emma found the credit card statement in Marcus’s jacket pocket. $3,000 at Tiffany’s, dated two days ago. Her birthday had been three weeks ago—no jewelry, no surprise, just his usual distracted “happy birthday.”
She was still holding the statement when he walked in.
“Who’s Sarah?” Her voice came out steadier than she expected.
Marcus froze mid-step. For one second—maybe two—his face showed pure panic before he rearranged it into confusion. “What?”
“Sarah. The name on your purchase receipt. From Tiffany’s. Two days ago.” Emma held up the statement. Her hand shook.
“That’s not—” He reached for the paper.
“Don’t.” She stepped back. “Just don’t lie. For once, just tell me the truth.”
Why this works: We experience the discovery, the confrontation, the micro-expressions, the emotional beat-by-beat. We’re there with Emma.
What Qualifies as a “Dramatic Moment”
Scenes that should almost always be dramatized:
Major revelations:
- Character discovers crucial truth
- Secrets are exposed
- Identity is revealed
- Mystery is solved
Confrontations:
- Characters clash over core conflict
- Truth is spoken after long silence
- Relationships reach breaking point
- Accusations are made
Turning points:
- Character makes crucial choice
- Life-changing events occur
- Relationships transform
- Plot pivots in new direction
Emotional climaxes:
- Love declared or rejected
- Grief overwhelming character
- Joy/triumph after struggle
- Despair at lowest point
Action sequences:
- Physical danger unfolding
- Escape attempts
- Fights or chases
- Rescue missions
First/last times:
- First kiss, first betrayal
- Final goodbyes
- Last chances taken or missed
- Once-in-a-lifetime moments
Contemporary Examples: Dramatization Done Right
From The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides:
The revelation of Theo’s true connection to Alicia isn’t recapped—we experience it in real-time, with full dramatic weight. Michaelides dramatizes the crucial confrontation and revelation, making the twist land with maximum impact.
From Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens:
The trial scenes are fully dramatized—we sit in the courtroom with Kya, experiencing each testimony, each piece of evidence, each moment of hope or despair. Owens doesn’t summarize “the trial happened and she was found not guilty.” We live through it.
From The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid:
The interview sessions where Evelyn reveals her truth are dramatized in real-time—we hear her speak, see Monique’s reactions, experience the revelations as they unfold. The emotional impact comes from being present for these confessions.
From Normal People by Sally Rooney:
Key relationship moments—the invitation to debs that Connell doesn’t extend, the conversations where they fail to communicate, the moments they finally connect—are all dramatized. Rooney shows us the exact words spoken and reactions felt, making the relationship’s complexity palpable.
The Equal-and-Opposite Problem: Dramatizing Boring Moments
When Tedium Kills Pacing
The overcorrection: Some writers, knowing they should “show not tell,” dramatize everything—including utterly mundane moments.
Example of over-dramatization:
Sarah woke to her alarm. She pressed snooze twice before finally getting up. She shuffled to the bathroom, brushed her teeth with circular motions the dentist recommended, flossed carefully between each tooth, then brushed her tongue.
She opened the shower, tested the water temperature with her hand, adjusted it slightly cooler, then stepped in. The water cascaded over her shoulders. She reached for the shampoo…
Three pages later, Sarah finally leaves her apartment.
The problem: Readers don’t need this level of mundane detail. They’ll skim forward looking for where the story actually begins, or worse, put the book down entirely.
What to Leave Off the Page
Elmore Leonard’s famous advice: “Try to leave out the parts that readers tend to skip.”
Moments to skip or summarize:
Routine daily activities:
- Morning routines (unless something unusual happens)
- Commutes (unless key conversation/event occurs)
- Meals (unless plot/character relevant)
- Sleep (unless dreams matter)
Logistical transitions:
- Travel from Point A to Point B (unless journey matters)
- Entering/exiting buildings
- Generic pleasantries and greetings
- Waiting periods with no internal development
Repetitive events:
- Similar conversations happening multiple times
- Recurring activities shown once before
- Meetings that don’t advance plot
Uneventful time periods:
- Weeks/months where nothing significant happens
- Waiting for results/responses
- Recovery periods without character development
Information the reader can infer:
- Character using bathroom
- Basic self-care activities
- Expected social niceties
- Obvious logical steps
The Art of the Summary Transition
Instead of dramatizing boring moments, use efficient summary:
Poor (over-dramatized): Emma drove to the office. She got on the highway, merged into traffic, took exit 42, turned left on Main Street, found parking, locked her car, walked to the building, rode the elevator to the third floor, walked down the hallway, said hi to reception, went to her desk, logged into her computer…
Better (efficient summary): By the time Emma reached her office, she’d already decided: today she’d confront Marcus, consequences be damned.
Why the second works:
- Gets Emma where she needs to be
- Uses travel time to show internal processing
- Skips boring logistics
- Maintains forward momentum
Time Manipulation: The Novelist’s Superpower
The Flexibility of Novel Time
In novels, you control time completely:
Expand time:
- A split-second decision can take three pages to explore
- A kiss can unfold across paragraphs of sensation and thought
- A gunshot can trigger pages of memory and realization before the bullet hits
Compress time:
- “Three years passed” in a single sentence
- Decades in a paragraph
- Entire uneventful months in a transition
Readers accept this fluidity as long as you’re focusing on what matters and maintaining forward momentum.
The Pacing Formula
General principle:
Dramatic/important moments = Real-time, expanded, detailed
Transitional/uneventful moments = Summary, compressed, brief
Example – Flexible time in practice:
The trial lasted three weeks. Emma sat through expert testimony on blood spatter patterns, fiber analysis, digital forensics. Lawyers argued over admissibility. The judge called recesses. Jury members struggled to stay awake.
Then the prosecution called Sarah Mitchell to the stand.
Emma’s breath caught. This was the one she’d been dreading. Sarah—Marcus’s supposed “business partner”—walked to the witness box in a black suit that probably cost more than Emma’s rent. When she placed her hand on the Bible, Emma noticed the diamond on her left hand.
The prosecutor smiled. “Ms. Mitchell, how long have you known the defendant?”
Analysis:
- Three weeks of trial compressed into one paragraph
- The moment Sarah takes the stand expanded into real-time detail
- Time slows for the crucial testimony that follows
- Reader understands the contrast: this witness matters
Advanced Technique: Strategic Time Jumps
Use time jumps to skip over:
- Predictable outcomes: After character decides to leave spouse, jump to “six months later, the divorce was final” rather than showing every legal step
- Waiting periods: “The test results would take a week. Emma filled those seven days with desperate distraction…” then jump to results arriving
- Repetitive training/preparation: Show one representative training session, then jump to “after three months of brutal preparation, she was ready”
- Aftermath that’s more interesting than the event itself: Sometimes the fallout matters more than the incident—show the aftermath, reference the event
The Decision Framework: Should This Be a Scene or Summary?
The Diagnostic Questions
For any potential scene, ask:
Question 1: Does this moment advance the plot?
- Does it change character’s situation?
- Does it reveal crucial information?
- Does it propel story toward climax?
If NO → Consider summary or cutting entirely
Question 2: Does this moment develop character in important ways?
- Does it reveal who character truly is?
- Does it show character growth/change?
- Does it deepen reader understanding?
If NO → Consider summary
Question 3: Does this moment carry emotional weight?
- Will readers feel strongly about outcome?
- Does it pay off earlier setup?
- Does it create empathy or investment?
If NO → Probably summary
Question 4: Is this moment crucial to central conflict?
- Does it directly relate to protagonist’s main goal?
- Does it escalate or complicate core problem?
- Does it represent progress or setback?
If NO → Likely summary or cut
Question 5: Will readers feel cheated if they don’t experience this directly?
- Have you been building toward this moment?
- Is this the payoff they’re anticipating?
- Would recapping it feel like withholding?
If YES → MUST dramatize
The Scene Audit Spreadsheet
Create a spreadsheet of every scene:
| Chapter | Scene | Plot Advancement | Character Development | Emotional Weight | Verdict |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 3 | Emma’s morning routine | None | None | None | CUT/SUMMARIZE |
| 3 | Confrontation with Marcus | Major – reveals affair | Major – Emma’s strength | High – built toward this | DRAMATIZE FULLY |
| 4 | Drive to lawyer | None | Internal processing | Medium | BRIEF SUMMARY with interiority |
| 5 | Lawyer meeting | Medium – divorce papers | Medium – taking action | Medium | DRAMATIZE key moments, summarize logistics |
If scene doesn’t score “Medium” or higher on at least two dimensions, consider cutting or summarizing.
Common Mistakes Writers Make (And Fixes)
Mistake 1: Dramatizing Setup, Recapping Payoff
The problem: Spending pages on mundane setup, then summarizing the crucial dramatic moment.
Example: Emma spent the entire evening preparing for the confrontation. She chose her outfit carefully—the blue dress that made her feel confident. She rehearsed what she’d say, running through arguments in her mind. She drove to Marcus’s office, rehearsing more in the car.
When she finally confronted him, he admitted everything. The affair, the lies, all of it. She’d been right about everything. Afterward, she drove home in tears.
Why it fails: We get three paragraphs about preparation but two sentences about the actual confrontation—backwards priorities.
The fix:
Emma didn’t rehearse. She just drove to Marcus’s office and walked in.
Then launch into fully dramatized confrontation.
Mistake 2: Movie-Brain Syndrome
The problem: Writing as if reader can see what you’re imagining, forgetting to include sensory detail and interiority.
Example (screenplay thinking):
“I can’t believe you did this,” Emma said.
“I’m sorry,” Marcus replied.
“Sorry isn’t good enough.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
What’s missing: Setting, physical detail, interiority, sensory experience, gesture, tone, expression.
The fix:
“I can’t believe you did this.” Emma’s voice came out hollow. The office around them—Marcus’s office, with his awards and family photos (including her)—felt like a stage set.
“I’m sorry.” Marcus wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Sorry isn’t good enough.” Her hands were shaking. She pressed them against her thighs.
“What do you want me to say?” Finally, he looked at her. For a second, she thought she saw genuine anguish.
“The truth.” She stepped closer. “For once, just tell me the actual truth.”
Mistake 3: The Recap Loop
The problem: Having characters repeatedly tell different people about the same event, so readers experience it multiple times secondhand.
Example: Emma told her mother about the confrontation. Then she told her best friend. Then her therapist. Each time, she went through the whole story again…
Why it fails: Reader already knows what happened—hearing it recapped three more times is tedious.
The fix:
Option A: Dramatize the event once, then summarize subsequent retellings: Over the next week, Emma found herself recounting the confrontation to mother, friends, therapist—each retelling slightly different, emphasizing different details depending on the audience.
Option B: Use the retelling to reveal something new: When Emma told her therapist about the confrontation, Dr. Chen stopped her. “You’re describing what Marcus did. What were you feeling?” Emma opened her mouth to answer and realized she couldn’t. She’d been so focused on his betrayal she hadn’t let herself feel her own grief.
Mistake 4: Summary Where Readers Expect Drama
The problem: Summarizing moments readers have been anticipating.
Example: After 200 pages of will-they-won’t-they tension, the first kiss happens off-page: “Later that night, we finally kissed. It was everything I’d hoped for.”
Why it fails: This is the payoff readers have invested in—they deserve to experience it.
The fix: Dramatize anticipated moments fully, giving them the weight and detail they’ve earned.
Mistake 5: Dramatic Moments That Don’t Matter
The problem: Fully dramatizing scenes that don’t advance plot or character.
Example: Five pages detailing Emma’s grocery shopping trip, down to her internal debate about which brand of cereal to buy, her interaction with the cashier, loading her car…
Why it fails: Unless something plot-relevant happens (she runs into Marcus with his affair partner, she has a breakdown in the cereal aisle), this is wasted pages.
The fix: Cut it or reduce to one sentence: “Emma stopped at the grocery store on her way home, moving through the aisles on autopilot.”
Genre-Specific Dramatization Strategies
Literary Fiction
What to prioritize:
- Internal revelations and realizations
- Subtle relationship dynamics
- Moments of character insight
- Quiet but profound turning points
What can be summarized:
- Lengthy time periods of reflection (give us the conclusion, not every thought)
- Repetitive interactions (show pattern once, reference it thereafter)
- Ordinary life events without thematic significance
Example: Normal People Rooney dramatizes key conversations and interactions but summarizes months of school or social events between crucial moments.
Mystery/Thriller
What to prioritize:
- Discovery of clues
- Confrontations with suspects
- Danger and action sequences
- Key revelations
What can be summarized:
- Research and investigation between breakthroughs
- Travel and logistics
- Routine police work without findings
Example: Gone Girl Flynn dramatizes every revelation and twist but summarizes mundane days of Nick dealing with media scrutiny.
Romance
What to prioritize:
- First meetings and crucial encounters
- Conflicts and misunderstandings
- Reconciliations
- Physical/emotional intimacy
What can be summarized:
- Time apart between key meetings
- Ordinary dates without advancement
- Friendly interactions that don’t deepen connection
Example: The Hating Game Thorne dramatizes every workplace interaction and building tension but summarizes weekends and non-confrontational work days.
Fantasy/Science Fiction
What to prioritize:
- Worldbuilding through character experience
- Magic/technology in action
- Quest progress and setbacks
- Battles and confrontations
What can be summarized:
- Travel between plot points
- Training montages (show beginning/end)
- Waiting periods
- Repeated magical activities already established
Example: The Fifth Season Jemisin dramatizes orogeny in action and critical quest moments but summarizes long journeys and waiting periods.
Your Dramatization Audit: Practical Implementation
Step 1: Identify Your Current Balance
Read through your manuscript and mark:
🎭 = Fully dramatized scenes (real-time, detailed) 📝 = Summary/narrative summary ❌ = Could be cut entirely
Calculate your ratio:
- Aim for roughly 70% dramatized, 30% summary
- More summary = readers feel distant
- More dramatization = may include tedious moments
Step 2: Check Your Dramatic Moments
List every major dramatic moment in your novel:
For each, verify:
- [ ] Is this shown in real-time, not recapped?
- [ ] Do readers experience it alongside protagonist?
- [ ] Is it given appropriate page time?
- [ ] Does it include sensory detail and interiority?
If any answer is NO, prioritize revising that scene.
Step 3: Cut or Summarize Boring Scenes
Identify fully dramatized scenes that score low on:
- Plot advancement
- Character development
- Emotional weight
- Connection to central conflict
For each low-scoring scene, choose:
Option A: Cut entirely If removing it doesn’t create plot holes or confusion.
Option B: Reduce to summary One paragraph covering what happened without real-time detail.
Option C: Combine with other scene Merge with adjacent scene that does advance plot.
Step 4: Expand Crucial Recaps
Find anywhere you’ve recapped a dramatic moment:
- Character telling someone what happened
- Narrator summarizing a crucial event
- Dialogue like “After what happened last night…”
Revise to dramatize instead: Show the event in real-time before the recap, or use flashback to take readers into the moment.
Frequently Asked Questions: Scene vs. Summary
How much detail is too much when dramatizing?
If the detail doesn’t serve character, atmosphere, or plot, it’s probably too much. Every descriptive element should earn its place. When in doubt, read aloud—you’ll feel where pacing drags.
Can I use flashbacks to show events that were initially recapped?
Yes, but use strategically. If readers just heard about the event, immediately flashing back to show it can feel redundant. Better: dramatize originally, or use flashback much later when new context makes revisiting meaningful.
What about epistolary novels or unique structures?
Alternative structures have different rules. Epistolary novels inherently involve recapping events in letters/emails. The key is ensuring the voice and character remain engaging even when recounting events.
How do I know if I’m over-summarizing?
Beta readers will tell you they feel distant from the story or don’t connect emotionally with characters. Or they’ll say “I wanted to see [crucial moment] happen, not just hear about it.”
Should prologues be dramatized or summary?
Usually dramatized—prologues often establish crucial events that shape the novel. If the event isn’t important enough to dramatize, question whether you need the prologue at all.
Can I change my mind during revision?
Absolutely. First drafts often get the balance wrong. Revision is where you identify what deserves dramatization and what should be summary.
Your Action Plan: Mastering Dramatization
This week:
- Read your first three chapters
- Identify what’s dramatized vs. summarized
- Note if dramatic moments are recapped instead of shown
This month:
- Create scene inventory of entire manuscript
- Score each scene on plot/character/emotion importance
- Identify 3-5 scenes that need expansion (underdramatized)
- Identify 3-5 scenes that need reduction or cutting (overdramatized)
This revision:
- Dramatize all crucial plot turns and emotional moments
- Reduce routine/transitional scenes to summary
- Cut scenes that don’t advance story
- Ensure readers experience key moments firsthand, not through recap
Conclusion: Trusting Readers to Experience Your Story
The difference between “good idea, poor execution” and “couldn’t put it down” often comes down to choosing what to show versus what to tell.
When you dramatize your dramatic moments:
- Readers live through crucial events with your protagonist
- Emotional impact lands with full weight
- Plot turns feel immediate and visceral
- Character reactions happen in real-time
- Story maintains immersive momentum
When you summarize boring transitions:
- Pacing stays tight and engaging
- Readers never feel bogged down
- Story maintains forward drive
- Page count stays manageable
- Reader attention remains high
The art is knowing the difference.
Your job isn’t to document every moment of your protagonist’s life. It’s to curate the experiences that matter—showing readers the moments that define, change, or devastate your characters while efficiently moving past the mundane.
Master this balance, and you’ve mastered one of the most crucial elements of compelling fiction.
