101 TIWIK #9: Dialog: More than Talking Heads

“What is dialog?” 

“Dialog is written speech.”

“How do I write really good dialog?”

“First, you have to understand that dialog is more than just people talking. When you write dialog like this, with no ‘tags,’ you run the risk of your scene turning into talking heads.”

“Tags? Like, graffiti?” 

“Tags are the written material that accompanies dialog. ‘It’s going to be a nice day,’ she said, pulling on her bikini. ‘she said, etc’ is the tag. You can also have an action tag, which omits the said: ‘It’s going to be a nice day.’ She pulled on her bikini and released the neon shoulders with a snap. Tags are what place the dialog in context.”

“Why is it so important to have this kind of material around dialog? Why can’t I just have lots of back and forth dialog, like in a screenplay?”

“The problem with ‘talking heads’ is that it slows down the story. When readers encounter scene-less chunks of dialog, it works like large chunks of exposition or description. With no action, the story gets stuck. You want to keep your characters in motion while they are talking. A screenplay may be just dialog, but that is because in the film itself, a whole set of actions are going on under the dialog on screen.”

“So when I write dialog, I should keep it in the context of a forward-moving scene. What else should I know about dialog?”

“The next most important thing to do when you’re writing dialog is to make it sound like real speech. Often, new writers will use dialog to explain or describe elements of the story. But dialog is an action taken by characters. Like any other action, it should ring true to character. Nothing you write in your dialog should be something that wouldn’t normally and naturally come out of a character’s mouth. No character should ever say something that they wouldn’t actually know in the story. For this reason, using dialog to inform the reader is out.”

“But what if I really need to tell something through dialog? And what if one character actually did explain something to another character?”

“I would still avoid putting an explanation in dialog. But there is a short-cut you can use. Instead of writing a conversation between Bob and Fred about the reproductive habits of dragons, say it in exposition: Fred had told Bob how noisy and dangerous dragons could be in season.”

“So if I can’t use it to explain things, what good is dialog? Why use it at all?”

“Like I said before, dialog is action. You use it, like any other action, to reveal or develop character and to propel the plot along. You use it to illustrate important interactions between characters, to show clashing motives and build tension.”

“So dialog can be considered like a sword-fight–a back and forth between characters with the goal of one character imposing their will on the other?”

“That’s a pretty good illustration. But you want to be careful not to have your dialog be too patterned. Not every conversation is a steady rhythm of question, answer. You need to break it up. Have one character ask a question, and the other character sidestep by changing the subject. This reveals character. There should be pauses in dialog, and deviations. If your dialog sounds too neat, you risk boring the reader.”

“I see. I should make it sound like natural speech.”

“Yes, but be careful not to write it verbatim for natural speech. As with action and description, dialog should leave an impression of a conversation in the reader’s mind, not necessarily be a transcript of a real conversation. Consider this: your character makes a phone call. At the beginning of the phone call are the sorts of pleasantries that we all do when we make a phone call. You don’t need to write these all down. You can skip to the important meat of the conversation.”

“This dialog thing is harder than I thought! Use tags to create context, don’t infodump, make it sound like real speech, but not too much like real speech–so many things to remember!”

“I’ve got a few more. One hallmark of great dialog is when a reader can identify the speaker without specific tags. You should try to vary the speech of your characters so that they sound different. Observe how real people talk differently, even people raised in the same culture. And speech should match background. Your poor farmer will speak differently from your prince.”

“How do I write accented speech? It always sounds awkward or silly when I try.”

“Here’s the key to writing accented speech: Don’t use deliberate misspellings or altered words. Instead, pick a specific rule of syntax, break it, and consistently break it every time you write in that accent. For example, when I wanted make an accent for the Semija in Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern, the Chraunian slave class, my first attempts sounded like a stereotypical african american accent. It was horrible. But then I tried writing normal sentences with one syntax difference–I took out all of the articles (a, the). The result was a unique accent for a people. ‘ah tol’ yo mama, I’s not takin tha wash down anymore’ becomes ‘I told your mom, I’m not taking wash down anymore.’ It’s much cleaner, but still has a hint of an accent. It still reveals an under-priviledged, undereducated class.”

“What does syntax mean?”

“Syntax is the order in which words are put together to form sentences. It’s fun to play with. For example, Yoda’s accent is formed from rearranged syntax. It’s very simple–Lucas just rearranged the order in which the parts of speech appear in Yoda’s sentences. ‘You will love it’ becomes ‘Love it, you will.'”

“Our conversation has been everything you shouldn’t do in dialog–it’s info-dumpy, there’s no tags, etc. Can you leave us with an example of well-written dialog?”

“Here’s one–once again, from the fantasy author who’s my favorite at the moment.”

From “Assassin’s Apprentice” By Robin Hobb:

“Fitz!” he said emphatically, his voice cracking a little. “Fitz fitzes fyces fitz. Fatzafices.”

“It’s all right,” I said soothingly. I crouched a bit, though in reality I was not that much taller than the Fool. I made a soft beckoning motion with my open hand. “Come along, then. Come along. I’ll show you the way back home. All right? Don’t be afraid now.”

Abruptly the Fool dropped his hands to his sides. Then he lifted his face and rolled his eyes at the heavens. He looked back at me fixedly and poked his mouth out as if he wanted to spit.

“Come along now.” I beckoned to him again.

“No,” he said, quite plainly in an exasperated voice. “Listen to me, you idiot. Fitz Fixes Fyces fitz. Fatsafices.”

“What?” I asked, startled.

“I said,” he enunciated elaborately. “Fitz fixes fyce fits. Fat suffices.” He bowed, turned, and began to walk away from me, up the trail.

Notice how Hobb uses tags. She keeps the context of the conversation clear. We know exactly what the characters are doing around the dialog. Further, the conversation is not by any means straightforward. Two opposing motives–the Fool wants to communicate something to Fitz, and Fitz wants to calm him down and avoid a scene. The conversation follows the opposing motives, not a clear cut back and forth. Each character doesn’t usually respond to what the other said, and when they do, it’s not the response the other is looking for.

Thanks for reading! Special thanks to Amanda June Haggarty for pointing out that dialog is actually action. The more I think of dialog as action, the better I understand it.

The next two days, I’ll be taking off from blogging. Yes, I’ve decided Bloggers get weekends too!

Next Monday I’ll start up again with a special treat–I’m part of a travelling blog about writing process. And Tuesday, it’s back to 101 TIWIK with #10: Putting it all together with density.

This post is part of a series of 101 Things I Wish I’d Known Before I Wrote My First Book. Start reading the series at the beginning.