WRITING DIALOGUE

Among the many tattered hats I wear is that of occasional guest lecturer at various universities which teach writing popular fiction. I have decided to make the notes I use during these lectures available here in The Writer's Place. The first two in the series, "Writing Violence I & II" are already accessible here in my archived blogs. Feel free to share, quote, use, etc. as you please, but please remember to attribute, as these notes are under copyright.


Man forms himself in dialogue.
-- Anne Carson

I.

Clausewitz once remarked that there is a fair country distance between simple and easy. Within the craft of writing, this statement applies to dialogue more than any other factor. Dialogue is like weight; in concept, what is simpler than lifting 1,000 lbs? You get on the bench, grab the weight, and push. Simple. But if you've ever tried to bench 1,000 lbs, you understand that while it may be simple to explain, it is definitely not easy to do.

Dialogue is very much like art: our response to it is instinctive. That is to say, we “feel” that dialogue is good or bad without always being able to define why we think so. And this is at the core of why so much bad dialogue is written. People confuse the idea that all art is subjective – what's trash to one person is treasure to another – with the idea that there cannot be actual standards by which good or bad dialogue is written. But this applies only if we consider all writing an art. If writing is in fact a craft, then there is no reason why writing good dialogue cannot be taught in the same way as the proper use of a semi-colon.

The definition of “dialogue” is “conversation between two or more people as a feature of a book, play, or movie.” This definition falls under the sub-definition of “no kidding” or more frankly, “no shit!” A more useful definition is “to take part in a conversation or discussion to resolve a problem.” I find this description to be extremely useful, because it reminds us that dialogue has a point. It is not merely conversation; it is a means to a specific end. And that is where I'd like to start this module: with the understanding that dialogue is not merely an exchange of words between characters, but a tool. And like any tool, it must be selected carefully and employed properly. Or it won't get the job done.

II.

The primary objective of any writer crafting dialogue is to write dialogue well. This statement is so blindingly obvious that one is tempted to ask why it needs to be stated at all. So consider these passages taken at random from fiction, non-fiction and screenplay:

“Yeah,” Goldie said. “I know from experience during the Big War. People get killed in a war: women, some old and ugly, some in the flower of youth; babies, some nursing at the mother's breast; toddlers, two-and-three year-olds; little boy babies, little girl babies...cuddly, smiling, laughing, gurgling bits of warm, pulsating flesh and blood....”
-- Donn R. Grand Pre, Confessions of an Arms Peddler

DEBORAH: We've got to stop them!
MICHAEL: All in good time. The spider, to be successful, must spin the perfect web!
-- Daniel J. Pine, “Killing Time"

“Why do you think we have been so successful in our legitimate dealings?...Because our rates are lower? Ah, you know our rates are higher. Higher! But they fear us, and because of their fear, they do good business. The steel fist in the velvet glove. But if this is to continue, if our legitimate enterprises are to flourish, we must maintain our reputation. We must let businessmen know who we are, of what we are capable. Not frequently, but occasionally, choosing incidents that we know will not be lost on them, we must let the public know that beneath the soft velvet glove is bright, shining steel.”
-- Lawrence Sanders, The Anderson Tapes

All of these are examples of bad dialogue, because in each case the author has made a serious mistake. He has forgotten that the definition of dialogue is different than its purpose. Dialogue is conversation, but it not merely a means by which information is disseminated or character established or conflict carried out or a problem resolved. Dialogue is a way of entertaining the reader, and also of weaving the spell we call suspension of disbelief. Description, internal monologue, plot, characterization and so forth are integral elements of a novel, but dialogue is the means by which the characters speak directly to the reader. It is how we get to know them. Dialogue is the most intimate point of contact between reader and writer. If the dialogue is bad the spell is broken, the intimacy ruined.

Of course, in using the phrase “good and bad dialogue” we are presupposing that it is possible to make an objective judgement about a subjective question. As I said before, artistic and creative tastes differ. Nevertheless, there are means by which we can draw more or less clear distinctions between the two. To start, we must establish a few basic principles, most of which come in the form of questions.

III.

The first question in regards to how we write good dialogue is simply: What type of book are you writing? It is a cardinal error to assume that the standards for good and bad dialogue are fixed and unwavering, that dialogue which is “good” in one genre is “good” in all, and vice versa. Dialogue, like many other factors in writing, is partially dependent on the context in which it is written, i.e. the type of story in which it appears: dialogue which is appropriate for a work of black comedy and satire like Catch-22 would be grossly inappropriate for a historical romance like The Winds of War, even though they are both set in World War II. Again we return to the analogy of the tool. The dialogue must fit the story just as the tool must fit the task. In this sense it is easy to determine the good from the bad, simply by asking the question, What are the basic demands of the genre? In a hard-boiled crime novel, the audience expects a certain type of palaver: terse and cynical, delivered in a rapid-fire, often deadpan manner. This little gem, from an old-time radio program, is typical of the breed:

PROSTITUTE: Hey baby, looking for a good time?
HERO: I'm a married man.
PROSTITUTE: I know. That's why I asked.

This litle exchange fits perfectly into the expectations of the audience. But in a Victorian romance, they will expect ornamentation apropriate to the period, with a great deal of verbal cicumlocution and pleasantry, much of which is nuanced in such a way as to mean the precise opposite of its meaning. The British of that era could use politeness as a deadly weapon; therefore a writer must know how to convey this scalpel-like courtesy. The same applies to their version of sarcasm. Take this remark made by Sherlock Holmes apropos of a criminal he and Dr. Watson are about to confront in "The Adventure of the Red-Headed League:"

"His grandfather was a royal duke and he himself was educated at Eton and Oxford. So, Watson, bring the gun."

This is exquisite dialogue precisely because it is so realistic to the period. Holmes is making what amounts to a subversive remark about the cruel habits of English aristocracy, but he is doing it through sarcasm rather than an outright broadside against the institution itself -- something which, in the Victorian era, a gentleman like Holmes would never do.

Many authors put dialogue in the mouths of their characters which simply does not fit. If you look at the examples I used at the beginning of this essay, in each case the character – an arms dealer, a terrorist, and a Mafia boss – is using language which such people would never employ. It is possible for characters of different races, religions, ethnicities, social classes, educational levels, etc. to have the same thoughts, but it is foolish to believe they would express them in the same way. An Example -- funny but not facetious:

Victorian Character, 1888: It is a matter of the utmost moment!
Mafia Character, 1979: It's really fuckin' urgent.

In both cases the characters are expressing the same thought, but using language which is appropriate to their background and breeding. For an uneducated Mafioso to talk like a Harvard graduate is as foolish as having a character "educated at Eton and Oxford" talking in Cockney.

Another question that must be asked is: is the dialogue technical? If so, have you integrated normal turns of phrase amidst the jargon? Technical dialogue is not limited to hard sci-fi and techno-thrillers. It occurs whenever characters employ legal, medical, military, scientific or any other type of specialized speech. Such dialogue enhances the credibility of the work, but it can be dangerous to over-employ; else your characters sound like machines and not people. Integrating normal turns of phrase, slang, swear words, regional expressions, etc. amidst technical verbiage reminds the reader that the character is human. Let's say we have a Navy chief petty officer who is from the boondocks of Oklahoma and has a ninth-grade education, but 25 years in the service. He will be able to give a long, complex speech on every aspect of gunnery, which is his speciality; but at the same time he will pepper his phrases with ain'ts and various curses and slang expressions.

Bad CPO dialogue: The explosion, gentlemen, was caused by the overpressure in the breech. The gas expands at 100 feet per-second per-second and is released by the ejector at intervals of one every tenth of a second, which insufficient to relieve the pressure that builds up during rapid continuous fire, and can cause breech repture, which will kill everyone in the TCR.

Good Chief Dialogue: It's caused by the goddamned overpressure in the breech. The gas expands at 100 feet per-second per-second but the goddamned ejector only releases it at intervals of one-tenth per second, which ain't sufficient to relieve the pressure that builds up when we're doing rapid continuous fire. The pressure hits a certain point and you get breach rupture and its adios muchachos for everybody in the TCR.

Conversely, let us say we have a very erudite lawyer from a blue-blooded family talking about a point of law. His speech is well-structured and proper, but to make him sound less like an adding machine we could have him curse as he spills coffee onto his rep tie, or end a complex sentence with a vulgarism appropriate to his personality. Failing that, he might make reference to something appropriate for a man of his education and background, i.e. an analogy about being on the crew team at Harvard, etc. The idea in any situation is always the same: to prevent the spoken word from carrying what Harrison Ford calls “the cadence of the typewriter.”

A good example from Michael Crichton's Rising Sun: “There will some who will tell you that foreign investment is a blessing, that it helps our nation. Others take the opposite view, and feel we are selling our birthright. Which view is correct? Which should – which is – which – oh, fuck! What's the line again?”

In this instance, Crichton broke up a long tedious speech about trade policy by having the senator forget his lines and curse, which is not only funny, but realistic.

I do not wish to repeat myself, but frankly it bears repeating, so I will do so: in every instance, when someone opens their mouth, we must ask ourselves: What type of character is speaking? What is their personality and background? Education? Temperament? There are numerous examples of good authors falling victim to the trap of putting words in the mouths of characters that simply do not belong there. Authors as august as Mario Puzo, Stephen King and Lawrence Sanders are all guilty of this. In example #3, the Mafia don sounds like an Oxford don. His speech is totally unrealistic. Before writing a single word of dialogue, every author should remind themselves who is speaking. An outlaw biker is a criminal, but he will not speak the same way as a Mafia soldier, who will not speak the same way as a Crip from South L.A. Nor will a lawyer speak the same as a street cop, or a parish priest from NYC as a lay preacher from Arkansas. What turns of phrase, slang, expressions or cadence do they use when they speak? You must know the characters before you write for them.

In Stephen King's From a Buick 8, King often forgets that his main characters are Pennsylvania state troopers whose formal education is usually limited to high school. So this quote by one trooper, “He was a person who had carefully and consciously narrowed his vision to a single strip of knowledge, casting a blaze of light over a small area,” is utterly unrealistic. I'd have tackled it something like this:

“Curt was a fella who knew a lot about a little. I mean, maybe he didn't know much about women or sports or how to fix a hole in a garden hose, but he knew everything there was to know about that goddamned Buick. He was the go-to guy, the professor, the expert. Beyond that, shit. He didn't have much to say.”

(I mean no disrespect of Stephen King, but he never lived in Pennsylvania or dealt with PA State Troopers. I have done both.)

One very simple trick in regards to writing realistic dialogue is to ask yourself, Have you read it aloud? Even the best dialogue can be improved by doing this. Does it sound like authentic speech? One process I use in this regard is called "sanding the edges." Much of this procress consists of what I've already mentioned, i.e. humanizing speech patterns to make them more realistic. But sanding the edges means more than human touches, it means eliminating words and phrases which no ordinary person uses. It is the elimination of extraneous words, a “tightening” of speech patterns, so that obvious set-ups ("I don't understand!" when the audience already understands) are cut away. By reading aloud we often expose flaws in our dialogue we didn't know were there. Here is a silly, but unfortunately not very exaggerated, example:

MAN: We gotta stop for gas.
WOMAN: Why?
MAN: We're almost out.

Better example:

MAN: I'm gonna stop for gas. We're just about on vapor.

Notice that it was not necessary for the female character to add anything here. However, it would be just as effective, or perhaps more, to write it thusly:

MAN: I'm gonna stop for gas. We're just about on vapor.
WOMAN: Why the hell didn't you stop when I told you to?

Here's an important one. What is the emotional circumstance in which they are speaking – happy, frightened, angry, cool? People's speech patterns change according to the situation, but remain consistent with their personality. In “War & Remembrance,” Herman Wouk establishes the character of Werner Beck as speaking excellent English, except when he is agitated, in which case he switches p's and b's and 'fs. Thus, the character's “tell” is consistent even when his speech is not. On the other hand, in his novelization of Aliens, Alan Dean Foster carries out a dialogue between two Colonial Marines which is totally inappropriate for the desperate, terrifying circumstances in which they find themselves. Always ask yourself, are your characters speaking “in the moment?” If you are getting shot at, you aren't speaking the way you do at the dinner table. However, because characters' reactions to stress, pleasure, danger, etc. may different, trying situations can do much to show your characters' personalities as well as the differences between them. Consider this humorous exchange from an episode of Star Trek called “Patterns of Force.” In it, Kirk and Spock have just been whipped by their guards, and are now left alone in their cell, where they begin to effect an escape.

SPOCK: To reach that light, I shall require some sort of platform.
KIRK: (Kirk kneels and forms human stepledder) I would be honoured, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: (Spock climbs atop Kirk's bleeding back) Now, the rubindium crystals should find enough power here to achieve the necessary stimulus. As I recall from the history of physics, the ancient lasers were able to achieve the necessary excitation, even using crude natural crystals...
KIRK: (in pain) Mister Spock, the guard did a very professional job on my back. I'd appreciate it if you'd hurry.
SPOCK: Yes, of course, Captain. (pauses) You realise that the aim will of course be very crude.
KIRK: (shouting) I don't care if you hit the broad side of a barn! Just hurry!
SPOCK: Captain, why should I aim at such a structure?

This is a scene in which the characters are speaking consistently with the expectations of the audience. Spock is logical, unemotional and literal; Kirk is at first sarcastic and then exasperated. The humor of the scene rests entirely in the fact that both characters are acting -- and speaking -- exactly the way the audience expects.

Building on this, is your dialogue consistent? Nothing is more annoying than a character whose behavior is unrealistically erratic than a character whose speech patterns shift according to the author's whims or degree of negligence. A CHARACTER SHOULD SWIFTLY BECOME IDENTIFIABLE SOLELY BASED ON HOW THEY EXPRESS THEMSELVES, WITHOUT THE USE OF DIALOGUE TAGS. Without any other identifiers, I as a Star Trek fan know which lines match which characters responding to the exact same stimulus:

KIRK: Oh my God.
SPOCK: Fascinating.
McCoy: What in blazes – !
UHURA: (gasps)
SCOTTY: Och!
SULU: (silence)
CHEKOV: (screams)

You know you have partially succeeded if the character can be identified by the way they speak without identifying tags. We are looking for a distinctive voice, and that brings me to, well, the establishment of voice. Of course, voice does not estabilish good dialogue in itself; but consistency is a foundation stone of good dialogue. An excellent way to achieve this is to practice writing dialogue between your characters with no tags in a two or three-way conversation: when you finish, see if it is possible to determine who is speaking without much difficulty. If you can't, your characters may need a more distinctive indivdual voice.

Some will ask the question: What about stylizied dialogue? Is that “bad” merely because it is unrealistic? My answer to this is simple. Stylization is fine if the novel you are writing is highly stylized. The individual thread, whatever it is, must fit the pattern and not diverge from it. Frankly, it call comes down to genere. If the novel is realistic, stylized dialogue is out of place unless the character is an eccentric. If the novel is period-based, you must have an idea of how people talked within the period in question.
You must know where the threshold is.

IV.

To sum up, the basic elements of good dialogue are: realism, consistency (voice), brevity, selectivity, and decisiveness.

Realism: be true to the character, period, and general situation.

Consistency & Voice: concentrate on and be aware of the character's manner of speaking at all times so that it “sounds right” to the reader. Buffy fans know Willow from Xander, and Star Trek fans know Scotty from Spock. It's the same in novels. Make sure your characters are staying within the lanes you have established for them, because your audience, if they are truly familiar with your material, will immediately detect any deviation.

Brevity: eliminate unecessary words and anything else, like dialogue tags or internal monologues, which needlessly break up dialogue flow. Never say in ten words what you can say in six unless the character is long-winded. Even then, be careful in how long-winded you let them be. Boring dialogue is bad dialogue no matter how beautifully it is crafted.

Selectivity & Decisiveness: be selective in the words your characters use. Pick words which are evocative, strong, and effective in communicating the desired emotion or information. Don't be foggy or vague. Nobody hammers a nail for fun. Have a purpose. Get there quickly. No conversation in a book should meander. If you've been brief and selective, close the show with a decisive climax to every conversation, even trivial ones. If you end a chapter with spoken words, make them strong.

Remember that the same principles which apply to writing description apply to dialogue. Cut every extraneous word. Streamline. Buff, polish, sand. Trim tags and slash anything within a talking sequence which slows down the pace. Remember at all times the voice of your characters, and to have them speak naturally – that is to say, whatever way is natural for them, under the circumstance. It is perfectly fine for Mr. Spock to sound like Mr. Spock, but it is not fine for Mr. Spock to speak in the voice of Scotty. Wondering why I'm referencing television so much? For the same reason I referenced old time radio. TV, movies, plays and radio shows are all dialogue-driven.

Finally, some tips on how to practice: write dialogue-only sequences between two characters. No description, no dialogue tags. Just let the conversation flow. And if you're feeling really bold, write an entire chapter as dialogue-only and see how coherent and understandable you can make it. You will discover the true power of dialogue when it is the only tool you have to tell the story. Hell, there is a reason why old time radio scripts from the 40s often possess much better dialogue than today's feature films. What seems like a constraint may force your creativity into directions and levels of subtlety you never guessed were possible.