Dialogue matters

Any novelist appreciates that dialogue is an essential part of a story. It’s the means by which you follow the golden writing rule of ‘show, don’t tell’ – it’s the vehicle through which characters reveal themselves and the unfolding story.

I love writing dialogue because it really encapsulates the living, breathing characters in my mind. It’s a chance to break out of poetic prose, such as these lines from Burning Embers…

There, under the vigilant stars, lay the sleeping jungle, abandoned and mysterious.
Time had drifted on as golden, luminous days turned into sapphire moonlit nights.
There, entirely enclosed by flowering shrubs, lay a phosphorescent expanse of water shimmering like a sheet of silk.

… and strike a different tone, exploring how lovers speak in real terms to each other:

“Damn you, Coral, you could drive a saint to drink,” he said, his voice thick and trembling with emotion.
“You think you can waltz back into my life with no explanation, expecting me to swoon at your feet.”
“I’m a very possessive woman, Rafe. I can’t bear anybody else touching you.”

But dialogue also affords an opportunity to fashion the most romantic of dialogue – those words that lovers long to hear; and it is lines such of these I most love to write:

 “Your skin has the translucence of fine china, so fresh, so unblemished. Such perfection is almost sinful.”
“I will treasure you all my life. Now that I’ve found you, I will never let you go. Nothing else on earth counts.”
“I’ll make you love me; I know I can. You won’t ever want another woman.”

“Every nerve in my body has missed you and ached for you, my darling. I can’t wait to be alone with you.”