Want to write a book? Write a play first!
I am a compulsive reader. Schools on writing demand that the author must first be reader. I subscribe to that, as well. We are not brain surgeons; we do not have a proper school to attend in which we learn our craft. Only years of reading books–both good and bad–teach us the trade.
I’ve no favorite genre. I like a compelling story as much as a well-researched biography. Give me a book on how to make artisan bread…or an eBook anthology of mystery who-dunnits. The written word is my joy, and my revels run deep and loud when those words are written by a master.
Of the many aspects of fiction writing, dialogue is the wiliest, trickiest of the bunch. Description, though it can be overused, is not hard to do. If one is writing, say, a short story, they certainly have the basic skills of observing and reporting. Not the best way to go about it, perhaps, but many a book and anthology are filled with such lines of description.
Dialogue, however, cannot be mere trickery. It must land on the ear as character-building, and it must propel the characters forward. This, I believe, is where the neophyte is bound to go astray. He has not attuned his ear to the many conversations around him, therefore he misses out on the opportunity to learn the skill.
But story dialogue is nothing like everyday conversation. It must not be. We’re all susceptible to the “um’s” and “uh’s” and verbal tics–“like“, “you know“, etc. Unless vital to the character, such sibilants and tics must be discarded. Better yet, avoid them in the first place.
Dialogue, I feel, is my special forte. Some disagree, calling my dialogue unnatural or too laden with words woefully out of fashion. All I can do is shrug my shoulders and go on with my work, sound in that what I do is the best I can do.
Something that aided my dialogue and vocabulary skills was 23 years spent writing plays and musicals. Dialogue for the stage is almost always the primary tool the playwright has to tell the story. Too much stage direction confuses cast and director; too much silence leads the audience to think someone’s dropped a line. Not to say that silence isn’t useful in the theatre–but, too often, untrained writers rely on stage direction to further plot. What, I ask, does that give the actor? He or she must have a reason to take a role.
The great thing about theatre productions: They are constantly revised according to audience feedback. One of my musicals, Night of the Living Dead: The Rock Opera, played six seasons, and, last year, I finally “froze” the script. It took a decade to get every word/lyric just right. I believe it to be as tight as it will ever get.
I urge young writers–beginning writers, I should say–to write in different genres, especially the theatre. It will strengthen your ear to pick up stilted dialogue, to throw out that which truly does sound unnatural, and you get free criticism from the audience! No paying an editor to tighten your work.
Criticism, I think, should always come free.
G.
