show before you tell

There’s a songwriting principle I lean on: show before you tell tell.

I first came across it in Pat Pattison’s book Writing Better Lyrics, a guide for songwriters that pulls apart hit songs and outlines why they work. One of his strongest points is that you lose the listener’s attention when you lean on clichés:
“I love you,” “You broke my heart,” “All the things we used to do.” Too generic. Too flat.

Instead, you show. You give images, detail, texture.

He tells a story about kindergarten “show and tell.” He had a new puppy, wanted to bring it to class, wasn’t allowed. He settled for the dog’s collar — but forgot it on the kitchen table. When he tried to go ahead anyway, his teacher stopped him:
“No, you can’t tell unless you show first.”

That stuck. Show first, then tell.

songwriting and beyond

Pattison illustrates with lyrics:

Show:
Hot rod hearts and high school rings
Those dreamy teenage nights
Nothing matters like it did
Back when you were mine

Tell:
All the things we used to do
Those dreamy teenage nights
Nothing matters like it did
Back when you were mine

The first one paints a picture. The second one just waves its hands.

I use this in my own songs, but I also transpose it beyond music.

love and showing up

Take love. We can declare it all day: words of affirmation, verbal “I love you’s,” poetic confessions. But love is strongest when it’s shown first. When you show up. When you take action. When the words are backed by the deed.

Without the showing, words risk slipping into performance. Or worse, manipulation. Love bombing is the extreme form: big declarations, lots of noise — but how much substance? How much actual showing up?

It’s the showing that grounds the telling.

promises and trust

The same is true with commitments. Promises don’t build trust. Keeping them does.

If you say you’ll do something but fail to follow through, your words erode. If you keep showing up, even without grand declarations, people know they can rely on you. Words are cheap; deeds are costly. That’s why they matter.

Baháʼu’lláh puts it plainly:

Let deeds, not words, be your adorning

identity and declaration

I notice this in first conversations too. People often declare themselves:
“I’m such a loving person.”
“I’m super kind.”
“I’m an old soul.”

But these self-labels usually backfire. Calling yourself an “old soul” is almost proof you’re not — there’s a certain irony in needing to say it. The declaration comes before the evidence.

Better to let people see you. Let them draw their own conclusions. Show them who you are; let them tell the story after.