Tag: dialog

The Secret to Writing Distinct Dialogue

If you’ve ever been told all of your characters sound the same, then you understand how frustrating it can be to try to fix this problem. When I first began to work on dialogue, I tried all of the common techniques: choose vocabulary based on education and background, use appropriate slang or dialect (sparingly!), make your men more direct and let your women ask more questions. All of these things are valid, but in the end all of my dialogue felt false and forced.

So… I went to the master of dialogue—Joss Whedon. I didn’t actually go to him personally of course, but to his body of work. I watched scenes and compared the characters in a scene, but that wasn’t helping. Finally, instead of comparing dialog using that same vocabulary-jargon-gender way of thinking; I started looking at how characters responded with dialogue to a particular stimulus. Eureka!

I found one major event and looked at the dialog of characters responding to learning about that event. Each character responded very differently. They saw and responded to the event through their own filter of views, background, and personality.

The idea of writing through the filter of the character will be familiar to authors who already write using the close-third point of view. It’s a common concept for coloring internal dialogue, but it’s equally important to writing spoken dialogue. The key is knowing your characters and developing them fully. Often, working to develop characterization has the direct result of improving dialogue.  However, you might also consider adding a ‘dialogue’ pass to your editing routine to review and sharpen dialogue. The place where weak dialogue is most glaringly obvious is in extended conversations, so they merit extra attention.

Here are a few tips for ensuring that your characters come through in their dialogue. After you’ve written a conversation, stop and think about how you can use these tips to strengthen your dialogue.

Emotion – How does a conversation trigger your characters’ emotions? How can you reveal that emotion? Take this one step further and consider personality. One character might always turn to a joke when stressed while another responds with anger.

Background – Is there something in a character’s background that might influence the way they respond in a particular situation? For example, a Viking warrior who has converted to Christianity still turns to the Norse gods when he needs a comparison. He praises a young boy, saying he is as clever as Loki and as constant as Thor.

Goals and Motivations – What are the characters’ fears, insecurities, hopes, and dreams? Can these be reflected in the dialogue? Be careful here. Try to make the reveal indirect, using subtext whenever possible. A teen character who feels he’s trapped in a home that punishes his vibrant personality might replace the word home with jail house when speaking to a friend: I’m headed back to the jail house. The subtext is communicated to the reader without resorting to direct complaints or telling and the personality of the character comes through in the dialogue.

Surprise – Always consider what would be most interesting or surprising. Always strive for memorable dialogue. It will naturally be more distinctive.

I used some of these techniques in the scene below to differentiate Callie and Laney. The first version of this conversation conveyed the necessary information, but it was boring and flat. To elevate the dialog, I considered both the characters’ goals and personalities then looked for something surprising to make the conversation memorable. These two women have similar background, vocabulary, and even a similar sense of humor, but this short phone conversation makes it clear that Laney is restless and rebellious; she is not fond of domestic bliss. At this point in the story the reader already knows that domestic bliss is Callie’s greatest wish.

Already in the kitchen, Callie decided to start the coffee. She pressed the machine’s start button with one hand and pressed Dara’s speed dial number on her phone with the other, but it was Laney who answered.

“You’ve reached the poster home for domesticity,” she said in monotone. “State your business before I die of boredom.”

Callie shook her head at Laney’s antics and teased, “If you die, can I have your wardrobe?”

“Sure. Just promise you’ll leave me something fun to be buried in.”

“Geez, Laney. That is way too morbid.”

“You started it, Copper-Top.”

Callie laughed, picturing Laney as she last saw her. “At least my hair color is natural. Are you still sporting Easter-grass green?”

“Naw. Cougar said green hair wasn’t ladylike enough.”

“I don’t think I want to know what you changed it to.”

Laney and Cougar, her boss, always seemed to be in the middle of their own private war. “Where’s Dara?”

“Dara and Johnny are in the living room watching cartoons in their PJs. It’s so quiet around here I think I might slip into a comatose state at any minute.”

Dialogue is a vital part of your story and one upon which readers often heap high expectations. Some readers skim description, others skim narrative. Few readers skim dialogue and that makes it worth spending extra time and energy on ensuring your characters come through between the quote marks.

If you have more tips and tricks for better dialogue, please share them in the comments. Learning is a never ending process!

Article first appeared at www.savvyauthors.com

Three Powerful Tools to Build Momentum in Your Story

Pacing is probably one of the most misunderstood elements of fiction. We often assume that if we need to fix it, we should probably be trying to speed it up. That isn’t always true. That way of thinking is often followed by a list of superficial fixes: use less narrative and more dialog, use shorter sentences, shorter chapters, put more white space on the page. These aren’t necessarily bad things to do, but they might not be the right thing for your story.

Another approach to pacing is to focus on building momentum. Momentum is a measure of force, a force than can drive your story forward toward a powerful emotional climax. How do you generate momentum? First you need to understand that it is generated by two factors: velocity (the rate of speed in a given direction) and mass (the weight of your story). Let’s take a look at each element and the relationship between them. That will lead us to some practical, but substantive, fixes.

The Movers (Velocity)

The key to putting velocity to work is in the definition: speed in a given direction. Not just any speed will do. That’s where those quick fixes we talked about before can go wrong. All the snappy dialog in the world won’t help your story if it doesn’t drive your story to its conclusion. Short, choppy sentences will only work if they are used at the right moment.

The Shakers (Mass)

I must confess, I’ve recently become infatuated with mass. Not because I’m a science geek, but because I discovered mass is the hidden thread running through the books that make my keeper shelf. Some are movers (they have velocity) but others are not so zippy. What makes those less zippy books work? Mass. I call them shakers because they will shake you up, rock your world, touch your heart. They have weight. If your story has mass, or weight, you can get by with a little less velocity. If your story has less mass, it had better not only move, but fly. Finding the sweet spot between velocity and mass is your ticket to your reader’s must-buy list.

The How-To

So, how do we use velocity and mass to create momentum in fiction? This is where we get to the substantive fixes part. Substantive, because the very first thing you need is a compelling and emotional premise. Not talking about the plot here (a tough New York cop thwarts the terrorists holding hostages in a high rise building in LA) but the driving emotion (an estranged couple rediscovers the strength of their love when the building they are in is taken over by terrorists). Those both describe the movie Die Hard, but which is more emotionally compelling? Once you figure out the emotional premise of your story, you can use that to add mass to every scene in your story.

Now let’s take a look at a few more tools you can use to add momentum.

Dialog

It is true that dialog reads faster than narrative, but to build momentum it must also drive the story toward the ultimate climax. Give each dialog exchange this quick three step test. 1) Is it necessary? 2) Does it show your characters in conflict? 3) Is it loaded with emotion?  Here is brief conversation from Ladybugs and Fireflies by Cheryl Alldredge that has all three.

Taylor lifted a hand to Callie’s face and traced her lips with the edge of his thumb. “I liked waking up to your smile…I’d like you to move back in.”

Her eyes widened and her smile turned sad, but she said nothing. The music stopped and she pulled away, moving beyond the edge of the dance floor. Taylor followed, stopping her before she disappeared into the crowd. All right, damn it! If she needed it to be a question, he’d ask. He turned her to face him. “Callie, will you move in with me?”

“I…” Her lip began to quiver.

“Baby, tell me what’s wrong.”

She laughed, but the sound was brittle. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

The emotion in this scene is amplified by a secret. The characters clearly want to be together, but something is standing in their way. Why would Callie tell Taylor to ask again tomorrow? She has a secret that she has been holding back. One that will be revealed the next day. The reader knows that and this conversation serves to build the reader’s anticipation of what will happen when the secret is exposed. The secret is tied directly to the emotional premise of the book, driving the story toward the emotional climax of the story.

Voice

No groaning allowed! Yes, we all know voice is important, but let us think about why. Have you ever stood in a crowd and heard an Irishman speaking three conversations over? If you had, you might have forgotten to listen to the people next to you because you were tuned into that very different voice. Naturally, the Irishman’s voice wouldn’t have the same effect if you were Irish and standing in a crowd of Irishmen!

So, a strong voice is one that stands out and helps you identify a story or character as a particular one—not just another voice in the crowd. If the voice belongs to a first person narrator this effect is even stronger. Now the reader has someone interesting telling them a story. It becomes more personal and the story begins to have weight. It becomes a particular story told by a particular person, directly to the reader, and as the reader becomes focused on the character they want to know more about them. The author can actually slow down and tell the reader things that would otherwise be deemed to slow the story down.

Consider this excerpt from the opening to Lee Roland’s Viper Moon:

Mama wanted me to be a veterinarian.  She’d probably have settled for a nurse, teacher, or grocery store clerk.  She never came right out and said, “Cassandra, you disappointed me,” or, “Cassandra, you have so much potential,” but I knew I’d let her down.

The idea of me running down a slimy storm sewer in the desolate, abandoned ruins of the Barrows section of Duivel, Missouri, probably never crossed her mind.  The drugged, unconscious five-year-old boy strapped to my back and the angry monster with fangs and claws snapping at my heels were just part of my job.  Maybe Mama was right—I’d made the wrong career choice.

Now, this book is actually told with a lot of velocity. This excerpt leads into an action scene, but the author can take time here to introduce the character’s voice because that voice is unique and compelling.  She also does something else very important: she establishes stakes, both external and internal.

Stakes

Establishing stakes instantly adds weight to your story. It gives your story purpose and direction and it should relate to the emotional premise. In the excerpt above, the survival of a child is at stake. That is an immediate and powerful external stake and, to build momentum, those external stakes will have to build throughout the story (and in Viper Moon they certainly do). We also see the internal stakes for the character. Has she made the wrong career choice? We find Cassandra at a point in her life when she is questioning lots of things about her choices and we want to know how she will come to terms with her life. We are pulled along for the journey.

Summing Up

As genre writers we want to write page turners, books that keep readers up all night. More than that, we want to tell a story that will stick in the mind of readers long after they slide it onto the keeper shelf. In short, we want to write a book that is both a mover and a shaker. Building momentum is an essential part of crafting that unforgettable story.