Talking dialogue by Tracy Darnton

 

 

I’m talking about dialogue in my teaching this week so thought I’d share my thoughts and tips. 

 

We all know good dialogue can add energy and pace, further the plot and provide characterisation. It can bring instant drama, volume and variety to your work. Sometimes all of that at once. I like the white space it provides on the page as a break from full prose.

 

Bad dialogue can make us all too aware of the author behind the writing, or can be a clumsy info dump, or tell us exactly what everyone is really thinking. “Oh no,” moaned Arthur.

 

So, what should we be thinking about when writing dialogue?

“It’s all about the subtext,” shouted Anya.

 First off, however tempting, don’t think dialogue is a cunning way to ram in all that back story:

 

“Hello Matt. I hear you were kicked out by your hated step-dad Steve for splitting up your identical twin Felix and your secret crush Millie.”

 

Instead, the words you omit, the sentence which trails away, silences and pauses are much more interesting and engaging. Readers like to join the dots themselves.

 

“But I recorded an actual conversation,” insisted Bertha.

Remember, dialogue is not a transcript. If it was, it’d be extremely dry, and constantly going off at a tangent. You’re aiming for an authentic feel, not word for word actual conversations. It’s a storytelling construct. So:

·       Use fragments, let characters cut across each other so it feels real.

·       Cut those fillers – um,er,so.

·       Cut the niceties of getting into and out of conversations. “Good morning.” “Goodbye.” You will rarely need them.

·       Monologues are unusual in the real world. If a character in a conversation says three sentences, that’s possibly the time to switch to another speaker. 

·       Beware of slang which dates quickly and can be toe-curlingly cringey before you know it. “Wassup, groovers?” See, cringey.

·       Watch out for overusing names as “Hello, Peter” “Hello, Paul” can sound unnaturally stilted.

 

 “Don’t just stand there!” she yelled.

The dialogue isn’t hanging in space – the setting is integral to making it work. What are your characters doing while speaking? Thread that through the conversation. Break up sentences to put attributions in different places.

Having an action also reduces the need for a tag to attribute the dialogue.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ned staggered back against the door.

“And who are you anyway?” she asked.

Remember I said at the outset that good dialogue provides characterisation. Can you take lines of dialogue and know which character is speaking? This does not mean everyone needs a verbal tic or a strong accent, but we all have our own syntax and vocabulary.

 Avoid the bad dialogue trap of authorial voice over your character, tempting as it is. Are you reflecting your own speech or opinions, rather than your character’s?

“I think the cook is as incompetent as (Sir!!!) Gavin Williamson,” said Prince Smartypants from his highchair.

 

“Flipping heck!” spat Kat.

The level and frequency of swear words always needs thinking about and can dramatically affect tone and impact in the book. If you’re not sure, review on editing when you can see the whole effect.

 

“Tags,” she hissed, “I love them.”

I’m a big fan of mostly ‘said’ as a tag so the eye can skip over it. Though there was an exchange on Twitter this week which insisted ‘said is dead’. So up to you all, but I’ll go with the occasional ‘asked’, the odd ‘whispered’ and ‘muttered’ but never ever, ever ‘smiled’, ‘grinned’, ‘yawned’.

I know my middle grade friends need to add more tags like ‘moaned’ and ‘yelled’ and use more adverbs than the YA gang, but keep me happy and use sparingly to let the dialogue do the work. “I beg you,” she pleaded heartily. 

 

“And finally…”, she murmured.

My final tip is to read your dialogue out loud. Better still, get someone else to do so. You’ll pick up the clunky and definitely the cringeworthy.

 Happy talking.

 

Tracy Darnton writes YA thrillers. Her next book, Ready or Not, is out in May. She’s an Associate Lecturer on the MA Writing for Young People at Bath Spa. She talks a lot.

Notes on editing dialogue for dramatic purpose - by Rowena House

In their excellent writing advice guide, On Editing, Helen Corner-Bryant and Kathryn Price note that: “great dialogue is about striking a balance between naturalism and purpose - knowing how you want your dialogue to sound, but also what you want it to achieve.”

Personally, I’d tweak that to read: “dialogue is about balancing dramatic purpose and simulated naturalism. Know what you want the dialogue to achieve, then decide how you want your characters to sound.”

A pedantic difference, perhaps, but increasingly it seems to me to be more than a chicken-and-egg situation. It’s about demarcating in one’s mind the difference between the product of writing and the process of getting there. The product, in this case, being the speech on the page, and the process being the craft of storytelling through dialogue.

In case this is of interest to others, here are some edited notes on the subject which I prepared for a mentee recently. Sorry they’re rather didactic; time ran away from me this month and I haven’t had time to make them more “bloggy”.

Anyhow…

How does writing dialogue differ from storytelling through dialogue?

Writing dialogue relates to dialects and manners of speech, attributions, the rhythms and sounds of speech.

Storytelling through dialogue is about its dramatic purpose.

Editing for dramatic purpose therefore begins with the questions one asks about each conversation on the page. For me, the first question is this: what is this exchange achieving in terms of the overall story?

Really, there’s only one correct answer: it’s moving the plot along by…

One can fill in these dots in any number of ways. The dialogue might illustrate to the reader some aspect of a character’s personality, or develop a relationship, or lead to a moment of internal revelation, an epiphany of some sort.

Plot-wise, the protagonist might be prising information out of an ally or an antagonist, or maybe they’re building up to confess something important. The options are legion.

But in any event, the next question should be: are both the speaker’s intentions and the listener’s reactions clear to the reader?

I’m entirely persuaded by the many editors and writing gurus who say reaction beats are essential to signpost the direction of a conversation at pretty much every step.

            “I can’t bear that shade of red on a woman,” Deirdre said.

            Her husband rolled his eyes.

Without the reaction beat, Deirdre’s opinion floats, untethered, in the ether.

[Reactions that are actions also break up dialogue, which helps vary pace. Three to five exchanges is the maximum I’ve been recommended before something has to happen.]

Next I look for conflict in the dialogue: not shouty arguments but rising tension. As a rule of thumb, the more diametrically opposed the intentions of the participants in the conversation are, the more dramatic the dialogue is likely to be. If Character A really, really wants to get information out of Character B, give Character B a cracking good reason for wanting to keep that information secret.

Subtext comes next. That’s because, according to psychologists I’ve read, a large part of the pleasure and motivation for reading is the satisfaction we get from fathoming out the clues that the writer teases us with. If characters say exactly what they mean from the start, there’s nothing for the reader to work out, and the chances are the dialogue will come across as flat and boring, and the scene as a whole will lack nuance and subtlety.

[This assumes, of course, that the intended reader isn’t too young to understand the need to read between the lines. I don’t know how young is too young for subtext - it seems like an age since I talked to a child under 11 - but I’m pretty sure younger readers than that understand that people don’t always say what they mean.]

As with all dialogue, less is more when it comes to subtext:

            “Jasmine, you’re being stupid,” Dave said. “I didn’t even see Zoe yesterday.”

            Jasmine smiled. The Flame Pink lipstick she’d seen on his t-shirt told her everything she needed to know; only Zoe had been wearing that shade at the party.

            “Yeah. Right. Sorry.” She went into the kitchen and texted her mum. “Pick me up, would you? I want to come home.”

Despite the words spoken, the reader knows that Jasmine knows that Dave is lying. Her text to her mum is immediately comprehensible because the reader understands the subtext of her words, her smile and her action. We, the reader, might even infer from her smile that she’s been lied to before; this time it’s the final straw. The relationship is over.

Which leads onto….

What changes in the story due to this dialogue?

Without change, there is stasis, which is dull, so I subscribe to the theory that every scene needs a turning point, and without one, it’s not a proper scene.

As mentioned above, revelations and epiphanies are classic turning points for dialogue. Unexpected action - an interruption to the dialogue of some sort - also turns scenes effectively. Mixing and matching these options varies pace and keeps things fresh. [There are lots of other structural issues around turning points such as how they relate to the story’s Main Dramatic Question, but that’s for another time. Perhaps.]

Meanwhile, and I hesitate to add this given the sophistication of ABBA reader-writers, but since I’ve just been listening to Hilary Mantel’s amazing Reith Lectures again, and even she felt the need to remind her university audience of this original sin, I don’t feel too bad repeating it here: never give information to the reader that is already known by your characters in the guise of dialogue. Sure you see it in published books, but exposition disguised as dialogue really is a killer of authenticity.

Thank you for reading! Back again next month.

rowenahouse.com

@HouseRowena on Twitter

How can we open dialogue and engage with the Other?....by Miriam Halahmy

Alix confronting the gang who have bullied Samir for being foreign ; scene read by girls of Elizabeth Garret Anderson school : July 2015

Rescuing Samir from the sea : Paris stage play of HIDDEN, June 2015

In June 2015 a play of my novel HIDDEN was staged in Paris by students from a school where I ran workshops on Peace and Tolerance last year. HIDDEN has proved to be a key to helping my readers think about the Other in our society and how we could or should engage. The big debates today about terrorism, religious extremism, migration, people dying at sea and even a neo-Nazi demo planned in Golders Green against 'Jewish privilege' raising the spectre of the Holocaust again - all these debates are played out in front of our children and our young people. In order to help young people to open their minds and provide them with the tools to engage with the debates, we need first of all to educate ourselves.

In April 2007 I attended a three day conference on European Jewish Muslim dialogue in Brussels.

This is an extract from the article I wrote at the time.

Dialogue is a very delicate instrument.

 Brussels : April 2007, I found myself sitting at breakfast with two distinguished religious figures, Rabbi Jonathan Magonet and Imam Dr Abduljalil Sajid. Both these figures have been major players in Interfaith dialogue for over thirty years in Britain, setting benchmarks for progress and hope.

Where does dialogue begin and what is its role in healing a fractured world?

"The fight against Anti-Semitism and Islamophobia is a common fight which Jewish and Muslims communities should fight together – shoulder to shoulder", Imam Sajid maintains.

Listening is surely the most important part of beginning and as I sipped my coffee our talk turned to children and grandchildren.

Dialogue is the process of discovering that the Other is a reflection of ourselves with the same needs and the same deep seated aspirations.

Imam Sajid said that the only way forward since 9/11 is “Dialogue with dignity. Let us constantly remind ourselves that anti-Semitism is far from dead in Europe. As a Muslim, I have noted that whenever there is Islamophobia or hatred against Muslims, the signs of anti-Semitism are not far behind".

However, achieving widespread and lasting dialogue is a modern hot potato. Entering into dialogue usually feels and sounds like agreement with the Other. Israelis avoid dialogue with Palestinians in case it sounds as though they agree with wiping out the State of Israel. Palestinians avoid dialogue with Israelis in case it sounds as though they agree with the Occupation.

The question therefore arises, How can you have dialogue without agreeing? Godfrey Spencer, specialist in mediation and conflict resolution, demonstrated the answer in a very powerful workshop on mediation. Spencer pointed out that dialogue without agreement involves the recognition of the same deep-seated needs and aspirations on both sides. It also requires a commitment to listening to our enemies.

Taking the role of mediator, Spencer set up a role play between two Dutch delegates, representing a female Dutch Muslim MP, born in Morocco and Geert Wilders, a Dutch right wing MP, who expresses extreme views about the rising numbers of Muslims living in the Netherlands.

“Why do you hate us?” asked the Muslim MP.

“Is that a need for information?” interpreted Spencer, in his role of mediator.

“Why do you wear headscarves, you look stupid? You need to demonstrate that you are part of the Netherlands,” said Wilders.

“Is that a need for community?” asked the mediator.

Dialogue helps to defuse fear and particularly fear of the future, which becomes a very present fear and threatens to overwhelm us all. The Dutch right wing are afraid of losing their national culture. The Dutch Muslims are afraid they will be faced with genocide if the extreme right wing prevails. The mediator verbalised this as both sides having a deep seated need for safety. Ultimately the workshop effectively demonstrated that both sides had exactly the same needs. In communication there are no losers or winners. Win/Win is the only path to dialogue and healing.

Samir begs Alix to help him hide the asylum seeker they have just rescued from the sea to save him from being deported.

One of the most powerful experiences on this Conference was provided by Dialogue in the Dark (DID).  We all entered a totally blacked out room where the only way to survive is to co-operate. Completely blind, our group of seven had to find a seat at a table, put together pieces of an unknown object and pour boiling water into cups for tea and coffee.

Co-operating to put together our mysterious pieces, which turned out to be a Russian doll, we learnt both negotiation and flexibility, daring to risk breaking the rules to achieve our goal. As one delegate said, “Dialogue in the Dark opened our eyes.”

 DID is not an experience in simulating blindness but a metaphor for stress. It asks, “How can we put people, who have never met each other, under sufficient pressure which will strengthen them and encourage them to overcome hurdles together?”

 It is a process which leads groups towards meaningful dialogue with each other and encourages us to sharpen all our senses towards healing the divisions in our world.

It is the Middle East crisis which has triggered the development of Jewish/Muslim dialogue across Europe in the last few years. With the rise in both Islamaphobia and Anti-Semitism in Europe, the two communities are seeking common ground and support through dialogue. 

Yom Ha Shoah, the Jewish commemoration day for the victims of the Holocaust, occurred during the conference.  All the delegates, Jewish and Muslim, gathered in the dining room,  a yarzheit (memorial) candle  was lit and we held a minute’s silence, in harmony and shared respect.

“Dialogue is a very delicate instrument,” says Rabbi Jonathan Magonet. "The encounter, seeing the Other through ourselves, is an end in itself. We have to redefine ourselves in relation to each other, rather than in opposition.There is a revolution going on between the Jewish and Muslim communities and we are witnesses. The responsibility to move into dialogue towards healing and peace and away from disharmony and conflict lies with us."

......................................................

As one young man wrote in my Paris workshops on Peace : You said sorry but you're not the only one. I know you suffered and I did too. But we're still here, in this world, maybe as strangers, but as humans. So raise your hands above the waves of sorrow and burn the sadness away. Samih Hazbon, 18, from Syria now living in Paris

Our children and young people need help to cope with the troubling things they hear about and see on TV and the grownups need to find ways to help them in an increasingly bewildering world. But as Samih's words tell us - we should never lose hope and never stop trying to reach out.

The girls from Elizabeth Garrett Anderson school who asked some amazing questions about the issues raised in HIDDEN : July 2015

Elizabeth Garret Anderson girls at the Jewish Museum with me in 2014 - studying the passport of a German Jew, 1930s, stamped with a red J for Jew.

www.miriamhalahmy.com

THERE'S A CARACAL IN MY GARDEN – Dianne Hofmeyr

‘There’s a caracal in my garden.’ I announce to my son over the phone.

‘Probably a large domestic cat.’

‘No. It was caracal.’

‘Maybe you need to update the prescription for your glasses. By the way what time of the day was it?’

‘It was night. Caracals are night hunters.’

‘A domestic cat out on the prowl,’ he says almost too quickly.

‘It was caracal. It had tufts on its ears.’

‘Exactly what time of night was it?’

‘I’ve seen it twice. At different times.’

‘Be more specific.’

‘What do you mean?’

There’s a short silence. ‘Was it before or after you’d had a glass of wine?’

‘After. It was late. Caracals hunt late at night when everyone else is asleep.’

‘So you saw it after you’d been sleeping?’

‘Meaning?’

‘It could have been a dream. You know those waking sort of dreams where you look out the window and imagine a cat is huge like a caracal.’

‘It wasn’t a cat. It was caracal.’

Another silence. ‘Maybe you were working too late. After all you're a writer.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'All writers have vivid imaginations. ’

‘It was a caracal. I was in the car.’

'What were you doing driving around late at night after you'd had a glass of wine?'

I refuse to reply. Do I hear him sighing? Or is it the sibilance of the line? Do overseas calls still go under the sea?

‘Mum since when do you know what a caracal looks like?’

‘I Googled it.’

‘You don’t know how to use Google.’

‘I do. It’s a caracal. I saw the picture.’

‘A picture on Google has nothing to do with what you probably saw. Or imagined you saw.’

‘I’ve got proof.’

‘Did you take a photograph?

‘Not of the caracal.’

‘Why not?’

‘It was too beautiful. I was staring at it.”

‘And what was it doing?’

‘Staring back at me.’

‘So what’s the proof then?’

‘I took a photograph of some poo I found on the pathway the next day.’

‘Did anyone see you?’

‘When?’

‘When you were taking a photograph of poo?’

None of you might believe me either, but it was the most beautiful creature and stared straight back at me both times I saw it, unperturbed to have been caught in the headlights of my car. Now I’m prowling the neighbourhood at night with my camera to see if I can get a photograph.

But in case anyone is alarmed about an influx of caracals roaming the UK, I’m not in London at the moment but living on a dune next to the sea in the middle of a patch of indigenous ‘fynbos’ on the southern tip of Africa.

www.diannehofmeyr.com
Dianne Hofmeyr's attempt at dialogue both in fictional work and in conversation with her sons can be equally confusing. Her latest picture book, Zeraffa Giraffa, illustrated by Jane Ray and published by Frances Lincoln, will be coming out soon.