How to Fix the Exposition Dump in Your Story
- Iris Marsh
- 16 jul
- 12 minuten om te lezen
Bijgewerkt op: 14 nov
Table of Contents
Exposition grounds your story in a believable world—it gives us character backstory, history, world logic, and context.
But an exposition dump?
That’s when readers drop out. Ever had a beta reader say your first chapter felt like a textbook?
Or maybe you’ve heard comments like “steep learning curve,” “info-dumps,” or how “the beginning was a slog, but it gets better.” Yikes.
The good news? You can spot exposition dumps and revise them into immersive, engaging moments that deepen your story rather than drag it down.
As a line editor who works closely with self-publishing fantasy authors, I’ve seen how exposition—when mishandled—can stall even the most compelling plots. But done right, it pulls readers deeper into your world.
As both an editor and ferocious reader of the genre, I’ve learned exactly what works (and what doesn’t).
So while this post can benefit any fiction writer (exposition is present in all genres), this is especially for all you SFF authors juggling worldbuilding with plot.
You’ll learn how you can identify exposition by certain words, like “because” and “since,” and when you feel your story stops. And exactly how to fix it by adding it naturally in dialogue, using setting details, and more.
You’ll see several before and after examples to give you a clear idea.
Let’s walk through the steps so you can become a master at writing exposition that works like a charm.
What Is Exposition (and What’s an Exposition Dump)?
Exposition in writing refers to any information that informs the reader, like:
world history
magic systems or tech explanations
future events (like a ball, mission, or ritual)
setting and societal structures.
Used well, exposition creates clarity. But when it’s lumped in all at once—without being grounded in action, emotion, or character motivation—it turns into an info-dump.
Let’s look at an example from Ascendant by Michael R. Miller:
Sadly, it was not for his own spending. He had duties to help prepare for the visiting dragon rider. First on his list was to make payments for the food orders. Tonight, there would be a feast, and what a feast it would be. His mouth salivated imagining it.
This bit of exposition works because it’s woven into the character’s current experience. We’re learning about a feast, but we’re also anchored in his point of view.
Compare that with a more static version:
There would be a feast that night, prepared for the dragon rider who was visiting from a neighboring land. Payments had to be made for the food, which included a variety of meats, breads, and drinks.
Flat, right?
Why Exposition Matters (and Why It Gets a Bad Rap)
Some writing advice treats exposition like the enemy—but you need exposition for your story to make sense.
We run into problems when exposition feels like a pause button—when it shifts the focus from characters living through events to the author telling us how things work.
It’s tempting to front-load this info, especially in fantasy or sci-fi where there’s a lot to explain. But information doesn’t need to come all at once. The more you can spread it out and tie it to character goals or emotional stakes, the more naturally it will land.
How to Spot an Exposition Dump
Exposition becomes an issue when you’re dealing with the all-feared “info-dump.”
This is what happens when your exposition:
pulls the reader out of the narrative
stops the characters from being active participants
is simply you, the author, stepping in with a “by the way, here’s how my world works” moment.
Luckily, Janice Hardy has made a thorough list in her book that I highly recommend (Understanding Show, Don’t Tell) pointing to “reg flags” that often point to info dumps:
because and since: often used to justify past events or world logic.
remember, knew, and when: these tend to introduce flashbacks or backstory.
Let’s look at this example:
Miss Eleanor P. Butterworth had lived in the quaint village of Thistleberry-on-Wick for over fifty years, ever since inheriting her Aunt Beatrice’s ivy-covered cottage on Hemlock Lane. Everyone in town knew Eleanor as the retired librarian with the award-winning rose bushes and a penchant for cardigans. Thistleberry was filled with charming eccentrics: a watchmaker who distrusted Tuesdays, a baker allergic to yeast, and a middle-aged paperboy named Tim. It was the kind of place where very little ever happened—until the vicar’s 200-year-old church bell mysteriously vanished one Thursday morning.
It sets the scene, but it reads more like an encyclopedia entry than a story. Not a great way to open a novel.
Even though it ends with the intriguing disappearance of the church bell, the details leading up to it don’t pull us into the moment. We’re not inside Eleanor’s head. We’re reading a dossier. (This is also related to filtering, which distances the reader.)
And we can tell by the red flag words:
“… ever since inheriting her Aunt Beatrice’s ivy-covered cottage on Hemlock Lane.”
“Everyone in town knew Eleanor as the retired librarian with…”
“until the vicar’s 200-year-old church bell mysteriously vanished one Thursday morning.”
I know “until” wasn’t on the list, but in this case, you could substitute it for “when.”
Scene-Level Exposition (the Sneaky Kind)
Exposition doesn’t just show up in isolated sentences. It can take over entire scenes.
Common culprits include:
long flashbacks that delay the current plot
entire scenes where one character lectures another (and the protagonist just listens)
“training scenes” without any conflict.
These often feel like action—but your character might not actually be active. They’re reacting, absorbing, or passively learning rather than doing.
Ask yourself: could this scene be summarized in one sentence without losing any emotional weight? If so, it might not be earning its page space.
Also, be careful with flashbacks right before high-stakes moments. Even if well written, a flashback right before the climax can kill pacing. Save them for earlier in the story or find ways to embed the info elsewhere.
An example:
Let’s say this scene revolves around training magic.
Again, it can feel like you’re showing the reader because you probably have a mentor explaining things to your character or perhaps they’re actively training, which is admittedly better.
However, scene structure rules still apply: you want it to be about more than simply conveying information. Have them actively try out their magic or fighting, have them fail because of some reason, and have them eventually succeed (or not).
What are the stakes tied to them succeeding or failing? Do they need to get good fast or probably get killed? Will failing lose them something else, like status or the esteem of their trainer (who maybe they have a crush on)?
Add stakes and a layer of conflict to the scene.
When Exposition Works
When exposition is done right, it’s a powerful tool. It can add emotional resonance, create a sense of momentum, and serve as a bridge between scenes.
It’s particularly useful for:
scene transitions (e.g., catching the reader up after a time jump)
character ruminations that add depth or voice
worldbuilding flavor that’s embedded in character observations.
Here’s an example of a scene transition from my book Illuminated:
The rest of the day had passed in a blur, my pile of unfinished homework not getting much smaller. All I could think about wat Denise—smart, funny, and lovely Denise. All this time, she had been a potential, not a schizophrenic. And now? She was nothing.
But things could always get worse.
Today, as soon as I got into school, I was called into the principal’s office. And I had a sinking feeling as to why he’d called me in.
The exposition serves two purposes: it gives us emotional insight into the character and smoothly shifts us into a new scene. It’s in voice, and it adds tension.
Otherwise, I could’ve stated:
The rest of my day had passed in a blur because all my thoughts were on Denise. She had been a potential, not a schizophrenic, and now she was siphoned. But today things got much worse as the principal called me into his office.
It gets the job done but loses the rhythm, voice, and subtlety, which is exactly what line editing refines.
One technique that helps "show" more than "tell" exposition is to use psychic or narrative distance to your advantage.
Ways to Sneak in Exposition
So how do we integrate exposition seamlessly? Here are some strategies line editors use so you can steal them.
Dialogue That Has Purpose
Dialogue can carry exposition if the characters genuinely need to share that information with each other. Avoid “as you know” dialogue between people who already understand the situation.
Bad example:
“As you know, Bob,” said Detective Hargrove, pouring himself a third cup of lukewarm coffee, “the mayor’s daughter was found in the old boathouse, the same one where we busted the DeMarco smuggling ring ten years ago.”
Bob nodded gravely. “Right, and ever since the mayor passed that noise ordinance banning late-night fireworks, tensions with the yacht club have been rising.”
“Exactly,” Hargrove said. “Not to mention the mayor’s reelection campaign, which—as you know—has been under scrutiny ever since the embezzlement rumors surfaced.”
Better:
Detective Hargrove poured himself a third cup of lukewarm coffee. “Do you think there’s a connection between the murder and the smuggling ring?”
Bob frowned and tapped his bottom lip with his index finger. “I don’t see why. We busted the DeMarcos ten years ago. What about the yacht club? They weren’t exactly happy when the mayor passed that noise ordinance for late-night fireworks. Seems like they’d have more motive to kill his daughter.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Hargrove stirred his coffee. “We should also look into those embezzlement rumors.”
Same info, but this way it sounds like a genuine conversation between two detectives considering motives for murder.
Book tip: read How to Write Dazzling Dialogue by James Scott Bell.
These tips from K. M. Weiland on writing expositionary dialogue are also super helpful!
Setting as Context
I think this is probably an overlooked one, especially for newer writers, but using setting to give us info is extremely powerful, especially for revealing character info and world details.
Naturally, you don’t want this to be a boring block of pure description: you want to make it interesting.
For instance, you can use subjective setting details to reveal character: what would they notice in any particular place?
Below is an example from Mary Buckham’s Writing Active Setting book series.
Bland:
The street was a block long with three-story buildings on either side. Most of them brick. One was built out of concrete. All had steps leading down to the sidewalk. Five trees had been planted along the outer curb and several cars were parked along the street.
Character-centered:
Joe stood on the corner, with the widest viewpoint of the 400-meter long street running east to west. Buildings squatted, all of uniform height and width, three-stories on either side. Most of them brick, but one of Soviet-grey concrete. Hide sights for a sniper? Possibly, but nothing stood out.
Now we know what the buildings look like, how Joe sees the world, what occupation he might have, and it adds flavor and tension to the story.
For world information, it can be as easy as having a radio or television telegraph some crucial info in the background that’ll come back later in the story.
Or you add worldbuilding details while in action. This is an excerpt of my work in progress:
“By that slope there, you can see one of our Pet Dragons.” Vincent pointed to the small dragon about half a chain away. Its orange scales glistened in the sun as it munched on some grass. “They make for wonderful companions. Their scales are softer than that of the other breeds. And they’re quite cuddly, not unlike a lapdog. Very popular in the upper class.”
They crossed a bump, and the carriage swayed, causing the young couple behind Vincent to bounce and bump against each other. Vincent adjusted the reins and slowed the horse. They really ought to fix those bumps. Vincent suppressed a sigh. Just like they ought to fix a lot of things around here. Perhaps if they could convince this couple…
Rather than telling the reader that my protagonist is a dragon breeder, in this scene they’re showing a couple around their breeding station and trying to convince them to make a sale.
It shares that information through setting and dialogue without breaking the reader from the story.
Ignorant or “Watson” characters
Give your protagonist a companion who doesn’t know the world—someone they need to explain things to. This keeps the explanation grounded in character motivation.
For instance, in Harry Potter, it’s Harry himself: raised outside the magical world, so the reader learns alongside him.contrived.
In Sherlock Holmes, we have Watson. Without him, Sherlock wouldn’t have someone to explain his reasoning to.
There are also often characters the protagonist will confide in. They’ll talk about their feelings and thoughts, giving the reader insight into this without having paragraphs of internalization (also called navel-gazing).
You see this often, for example, in romantic comedies where the love interests share their feelings and predicaments with their best friends.
Action and Consequence
Nothing shows more than action.
For instance, instead of telling your readers it’s dangerous to walk outside at night in this particular village, show it through character action.
Maybe your protagonist was at their partner’s house, and they just broke up. The whole thing took too long, and now it’s dark.
Do they stay or take the risk?
The simple fact they’re considering staying, and perhaps even their now-ex pleading with them to stay despite their messy breakup, highlights to the reader that whatever is out there at night isn’t anything good.
Use It as a Feature
This is not very common outside of nonfiction, but you can use your exposition as its own storytelling device.
Jay Kristoff does this in his Nevernight books by adding little bits of info as footnotes. It fitted with the tone of the book, and the footnotes added a little extra flavor (but readers could still skip it if because it wasn’t necessary to understand the story).
Or, also common in fantasy, you can add an entire appendix or glossary with additional worldbuilding info if readers want to learn more without it bogging down your narrative.
Finally, you can use in-world media like songs, letters, and news reports to give information. For instance, Silence of the Lambs shows the reader the fictionalized report for them to read instead of having a character tell another character what is inside that report.
From Dump to Delight: Revising Your Exposition
So how do we actually go about reforming our exposition into something readers will enjoy reading?
After you’ve identified your bit of problematic exposition, use these questions:
Does the reader need the information? Be honest: does the reader truly need this bit of information at this time to understand the story, or did you add it because you like what you came up with? If you’re unsure, remove it and ask someone to read it. Ask if they understand your meaning.
Can you spread it out? It can help to space out information. This can mean spacing it out within a scene or over multiple chapters. Or think how it’ll affect your story when you reveal this info later.
Is there an interesting way to reveal the info? Have a look at the ways you can sneak in exposition. What could you use to weave in your exposition?
Next, follow along with the action that fits best with your answers:
Cut the information if it’s not necessary.
Break it up if it’s too dense.
Rewrite using one of the strategies above. You might also want to do this even if you space out the information.
If you find this difficult, you could consider training a GPT to identify your exposition and offer suggestions or use a service like AutoCrit.
Exposition Should Invite, Not Interrupt
An exposition dump can stall your story, but exposition itself is a tool. When used well, it’s invisible. Readers absorb it without realizing they’re being told anything at all.
I’ve fallen into the info-dump trap myself. My early drafts were filled with long blocks of backstory, entire training scenes with no conflict, and yes—even that dreaded mirror scene where the character describes herself.
The good news? You can revise for immersion.
Once you start using exposition with intention, it becomes a natural part of your storytelling voice—something that adds texture and depth, not just context.
Exposition is only one of the elements we tackle with line revisions. Go here for a full list of line revision steps.
Working your way to a full professional line edit? Read here how much line editing typically costs, plus ideas for affordable alternatives.
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