"Skip the pleasantries," you say.
"What seems to be the matter? I'm here to assist you in writing that dialogue."
"That's the point. If you're going to help me, then we don't need the introductions. Readers' eyes tend to glaze over when they read all the 'hi how are you's.'"
"Um well . . . uh . . ." Your Muse says and scratches his head.
"We don't transcribe those, either. You know, you're really not helping me."
"I think I hear Your Internal Editor's voice coming from your lips."
You snap your pencil in half.
"I get the point. Read me what you have so far," Your Muse says.
"Here goes: 'Do ya vant ecks for breakfast?' Mum cried harshly.
'Ya, gimme tree dippy ecks and some scrapple,' Elsie rasped.
'Did 'ja hear abaht them caws?' Mum croaked.
'Naw, what abaht them caws?' queried Elsie. "
Your Muse yawns.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't mean to be Your Internal Editor, but this exchange is well . . . boring. Think your reader really cares about ecks and caws? What are ecks and caws, anyway?"
"The characters are speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch dialect."
"Is that what you call it? I couldn't follow all those strange spellings. You might want to try some slang phrases germaine to the area, or use rhythm to imply the accent."
"You mean like throw the cow over the fence a bale of hay after you outen the lights?"
"That's a little better. You certainly have an affinity for cows, don't you?"
"The story is about cows. You see, Elsie's brother's calves were stolen by a group from PETA, because they were about to be slaughtered."
"Now you're getting somewhere. Start the dialogue there and eliminate all the chatter about ecks, whatever they are."
"Eggs."
"You don't need to mention the ecks--I mean eggs--unless they're frying up the last two Elsie found after PETA raided the farm. Cross out anything else not relevant to the plot or characters."
"Gotcha. Now I think I'm on the right track. Tell me Mr. Muse, why are you clicking your tongue?"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but there's something else."
"Go on . . . or would I rather not know?"
"Do you want my assistance or not?"
"I do--but you're interfering more than helping. I don't think that's in the job description of a Muse."
"I can be whatever I want." Your Muse lets out a manaical laugh. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. Back to business. Let's discuss your tag lines."
"Tag lines?"
"They're the phrases that let you know who's speaking."
"I know what they are," you say.
Your Muse pinches his nose. "Your dialogue reeks of the work by an amateur, I'm afraid to say."
"I thought I was being clever in not using the boring 'he said' 'she said.'"
"You can spice up your dialogue and indicate the character's tone and mood by the way they speak without resorting to qualifications like 'cried harshly' or 'croaked.'" Your Muse mutters under his breath, "Can anyone really croak?" He shakes his head. To you, "Characters reveal themselves by what they say or how they say it."
"Sounds hard."
"It won't be, if you get inside their heads. The key is, if you can *hear* them speaking, you'll be able to convey it to your reader."
"That's where you come in," you say.
"I make every attempt to help you, but you don't always have to wait for my arrival."
"I know. Your visits have been few and far between lately."
"Your Muse has to rest sometime."
"Tell me, Mr. Muse, have you any final words of wisdom before I try this on my own?"
"I know what you're scheming. You're going to banish me to the depths of your gray matter--and believe me, it's deep--and then you'll summon Your Internal Editor. I refuse to leave." Your Muse crosses his arms over his chest.
*Reverse psychology always works, you tell yourself. "Since you're staying--"
"I'm here for the duration. Basically, all you need to remember is dialogue is supposed to add characterization, give the reader new information relevant to plot advancement, or to build suspense."
"That's a lot to remember," you say.
"There's a lot of room in there."
"What was that?"
"Oh nothing. Nothing at all."
"Who's pounding on the door?"
"That's Your Internal Editor. Lock the door. There's a lot of room in here, but it's not big enough for the both of us. Frankly, I'm too tired to do battle with him."
"Here. Catch. Don't drop--the key. Gee whiz."
"I'm Your Muse, not Your Repressed Baseball Player. I don't think that nasty Internal Editor can get in now. Ready to start?"
"Ready," you say.
EXERCISE
Write a dialogue between two housewives discussing the kidnapping of calves.
OR try:
*A man tries proposing marriage to his girlfriend while she's flipping burgers at McDonald's but gets arrested instead.
*A demented psychiatrist interviewing his client.
*A politician and a homeless person
*A multilevel marketing exec. trying to recruit a 20 yr-old in a music store
Or any other combination. Keep the door locked and let Your Muse help you.
Most of all, have fun!
