Module #7
Writing Believable Dialogue
Introduction
In this session Glenn Patterson, author of the recently published
That Which Was and previous novels including Burning Your Own and
Fat Lad, explores how to create believable dialogue for your
narrative. This will focus on:
Our job as the writer
How to write dialogue
Narrator vs Character
Conveying character
What's the writer doing?
Dialogue as an asset
Parodies of dialogue
Our job as the writer
'You want to know about dialogue?' he said.
'I want to know about dialogue.'
'Then here goes, for what it's worth.'
And he told her everything he knew about dialogue.
As writers our job is, in some respects, wonderfully straightforward. It is
to create in the minds of our readers as complete a picture as possible - as
complete an understanding - of our characters and the world that they
inhabit. The question we must ask ourselves every step, or word of the way
is how this is best achieved.
Any of you who have ever - and many of you who have never - darkened the
door of a writing group will be familiar with the
injunction 'show, don't tell'. The four lines at the beginning of this
article illustrate the difference. Lines 1-3 show us every word the
characters say. Line 4 tells us what was said generally, without going into
the specific words. If we had to rely on line 4 we would never discover what
'he' knew about
dialogue.
The word 'dialogue' is common to written and dramatic narratives and indeed
'show don't tell' could be boiled down to just one word: 'dramatise'. Like
plays and films, novels and short stories are populated by characters. (I
use 'populated' in its broadest sense: it's not unknown for a novel or a
story to be told, or narrated, by an animal or even an inanimate object.)
Unlike plays and films, novels and short stories have no visual dimension.
The reader can't 'see' anything unless the writer writes it. In the short
story in particular writers often limit themselves to narrating the story
from one point of view. That is, they filter the world of the story through
the eyes, ears, brainwaves of a single character. (This need not necessarily
be a first person
narrator - an 'I' character. We could establish a firm point of view in
the exchange at the top of the page by modifying the second line: 'I want to
know about dialogue,' she said, though in fact what she wanted was for him
to stop treating her like an idiot.)
Dialogue takes on an added importance in such stories, because it is
practically the only way that we - and the character from whose point of
view the story is being told - can know what other characters are thinking…
even if we come to the conclusion that they are lying to us or themselves.
In good fiction even a barefaced lie can be believable dialogue.
How to write dialogue
So how do you set about writing this believable dialogue? The first thing I
would say is open your ears; the second is open your front door.
It should almost be part of the writer's job description to travel on public
transport or attend large public gatherings. A few years ago, when working
on a radio documentary, I was kitted out with a device that looked like an
ordinary Walkman but was in fact a MiniDisc recorder and positioned at the
door of a Belfast department store. The
collage of voices that resulted caught the flavour of an ordinary
Belfast street scene. Although I worried at every moment that I would be
exposed as a snoop, in a sense I was doing no more than the writer does
every day: sifting the snatches of conversation that surround us for the
turn of phrase, the word that catches our imagination.
One of the barriers to writing for many people is the feeling that they
don't know how to do 'proper, written English'. Writing fiction is not like
writing a letter to the bank, or an essay on
Beowulf. The 'writer's voice' that you will often hear talked about is
nothing more than a style that is natural, and therefore unique, to each
individual writer. (Many people will tell you it isn't that far removed from
your way of speaking.) Our characters voices should likewise be natural to
them. Actors know when a line is literally unspeakable. Even when you are
writing for the page, rather than the airwaves, I find it helps if you can
read your dialogue aloud. Never mind whether you want your character to say
these words: can you actually say them? Ask yourself too, does this
vocabulary fit the age and experience of the character who is speaking? Have
they suddenly acquired your knowledge of quantum physics without an
indication in the text of where they got it? If the word 'dialogue' itself
is off-putting, is making you make your characters try too hard, keep
reminding yourself it is only a
derivation of the Greek word for 'conversation'.
Narrator vs Character
When I was starting to write a friend of mine read one of my short stories.
She didn't like it at all… Sorry, I'm telling, not showing: 'It's crap,' she
said. 'The narrator talks one way and the characters talk another.' She had
a very good point. In fact, though, I went on to do a Master's course in
Creative Writing, it was probably the best point anyone ever made to me. In
those days I was still trying to use
phonetic spelling for the dialogue of my - mainly Belfast - characters.
That is, I was trying to spell their words as they were pronounced rather
than as they were conventionally written. My friend thought it made my
characters appear like buffoons, like members of a different language group,
almost, from the teller of the story.
The argument for using phonetic spellings is that for readers to understand
the character who is speaking they must be able to 'hear' - approximate in
their own heads - how he sounds. The argument against using them is that the
readers have such difficulty unscrambling the letters that they don't hear
anything clearly at all. (I read a story recently in which the writer had
used 'outta' when he meant 'oughta'.) And if you drop the final 'g' from
some of your words, why not drop it from them all?
Conveying character
More and more I think that a character's voice is best conveyed by the
rhythm of what they say, rather than the phonetics. Janice Galloway's novel
Foreign Parts has two wonderfully vivid characters, Rona and Cassie - Scots,
like their author - whose voices are suggested to us by phrases like 'are
you wanting to go?' (as opposed to 'do you want to go?'), or 'get the use
out the thing' (not 'out of').
In his novel Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides captures a whole range of voices
in this way, some of them straight out of his Greek-American background, but
others not: in one chapter the central character's grandmother's gets a job
in a black neighbourhood of 1930s Detroit. It seems to me crucial here that
the author doesn't attempt to
replicate phonetically the speech of the women who the grandmother works
with. Even if it wasn't his intention he might otherwise have left himself
open to the charge of ridiculing them. You might ask, of course, how he
could even begin to put words into the mouths of people, not just of a
different gender and ethnic group, but also from a different era. Jeffrey
Eugenides isn't here to tell me otherwise, but I would guess he managed it
by a combination of listening (to how the language is still spoken by
different people), researching (to make sure his characters don't use words
of phrases not current at the time), and, crucially, identifying with his
characters to the point where he begins to trust their own voices. That
might sound like an unscientific way to proceed, but it's the only one I
know, and let's face it, writing fiction isn't science.
Where vocabulary is concerned I don't go out of my way to include
dialect words (and dialect means simply language peculiar to a region or
section of society), but try to think of the words that, under no
circumstances, could my characters exist without. Characters in stories from
other parts of the English-speaking world might tell a friend to make the
best of a bad situation; characters in mine would tell him he'd just have to
'thole' it. Similarly, I can't imagine that too many of my characters would
never say 'yous', for the plural of 'you'; even if sometimes it comes out of
a Belfast mouth sounding more like 'yis', or yas'. Rona and Cassie in
Foreign Parts say 'folk' where those of us outside Scotland would normally
say 'people'. They could no more say 'people' than I could say 'folk'.
Janice Galloway is interesting to look at in another regard, for she
dispenses with all speech marks, trusting to readers recognising from the
context, as much as the content, that they have moved from narration into
dialogue. Most often writers will signal dialogue by single or double
inverted commas: '', "". Some writers favour a dash, which is common in
literature in other European languages. (Roddy Doyle is one.) These are not
just matters of taste - though I'll admit I'm not found of double inverted
commas - they may help break down some of those barriers I mentioned between
the narrated and the spoken: help make your characters feel less like
performers, more like participants.
Look at this passage from
James Kelman's The Chancer:
After signing on they headed round to the job centre but Tammas halted at
the entrance.
See yous later...
What d'you mean? asked Billy.
I'll see yous later.
Where you off to?
Just a message.
Aye, aye... Billy glanced at McCann.
Look, said Tammas, and he smiled, held his hands palm upward. I'm away to
see if I can get a few bob. If I can I'll fucking send you a postcard,
alright!
No want us to come with you?
Naw, best no.
Billy shrugged.
Just as he was about to walk off McCann brought his cigarettes out and gave
him one. Hope you're lucky!
Tammas grinned. Ta.
What's the writer doing?
As with so many aspects of writing, the best way to familiarise yourself
with the options is to read: look what the writer is doing; see if you can
work out why.
Closely linked to the
punctuation of dialogue is the question of dialogue attribution: the
words we use to indicate who is speaking. It is a subject on which writers
can become very heated. Elmore Leonard, for instance, says you should never
use a word other than 'said' to carry a line of dialogue. He once read a
Mary McCarthy book in which someone
'asseverated' something and had to put the book down to find a
dictionary.
Leonard is just as vehement in saying that you should never use an adverb to
modify 'said'.
It should be stressed that before you accept what any writer has to say
about any aspect of writing it's worth having a look at what they write. Do
you like this kind of writing? Would you buy a used opinion from this
person? I am not an avid reader of
Elmore Leonard, but I agree with him on these points. (Even though when
I read through my most recent novel I know will have failed again to stick
to 'said' and avoid
adverbs entirely. He admitted, shamefacedly.) Nearly always everything
we need to know is contained within the speech marks (or dashes, or
whatever.) 'Give me all your money!' is a demand whether or not I add 'he
demanded'. If the character has produced a gun before speaking I won't need
'menacingly' either. If you are going to use shout, you don't need loudly;
likewise who needs to be told that a whisper is quiet? Starting from these
obvious examples it is no great effort to work back and dispense with almost
all adverbs. In fact, I find that the less there is by way of direction
outside the speech marks, the better I hear what's being said within them.
Perhaps because the writer is confident that he has got the voice spot-on to
begin with.
Dialogue as an asset
Note too, if there are only two people talking, then it isn't necessary to
attribute each speech act: if it's not one of them speaking, we'll know it
has to be the other. Occasionally a bit of narration will intervene - a
character does something, or the writer focuses on something external to the
characters - and we have to be reminded when we come back whose turn it is
to speak. (This may also be possible for larger numbers of characters,
especially if one or more is easily identified by some verbal 'tic'.)
Mentioning interruptions reminds me that while dialogue done well is a great
asset to any story, dialogue overdone, like anything else overdone, can be a
drag. On occasion, reading page after page of unbroken dialogue, I find
myself asking: what are the characters doing all this time? If I get any
image in my head it is of actors in a bad play trying to think what to do
with their hands while they listen to another actor hold forth, or indeed
what to do with them when its their turn to hold forth in reply.
Practice interspersing dialogue - direct speech - with indirect speech. A
character arrives home and her partner asks, 'How was your day?' 'Oh, you
don't want to know,' she says and then proceeds to tell him anyway about the
fire drill and piece of paperwork that went astray in the confusion and
Byron and his bloody unfunny joke with the hose and… 'That bad?' her husband
says. 'Listen, that's only the start of it.'
In this instance the catalogue of events would take longer to speak than to
summarise (just think how long it would take to describe the fire drill in
any sort of detail), although 'bloody unfunny' carries the sound of the
wife's voice into the summary. You can (I hope) sense the partner's
impatience at the length of the catalogue, without have to experience it
yourself, and feel with him the foreboding of 'that's only the start of it'.
Direct speech occurs in real time: the words take as long for the character
to say as for the reader to read. Indirect, or reported speech
telescopes time: 'they talked all night about what they would do now
they had realised, after twenty-one years, they were no longer in love.'
Finally, it is important not to put too much of a narrative burden on to
dialogue: not to rely on it to do the job of 'telling'. Two characters who
are intimately acquainted would not greet each other by saying, 'Ah, John,
my neighbour of twenty-five years! How is your wife, June?'
(The only problem with talking about writing is that each time you think you
have identified a hard and fast rule something comes along to persuade you
to change 'would not' to 'would not normally'. John McGahern's most recent
novel, That They might Face the Rising Sun, opens with a group of neighbours
telling each other facts of which, so long have they known each other, you
would imagine they needed no reminding. It is not until late in the book,
when the year has come full circle and the characters are telling each other
the same things again that we see this is intentional, indeed essential to
the characters: a form of ritual repetition.)
Parodies of dialogue
Another much
parodied version of dialogue-as-polyfilla-in-the-narration is the end of
the murder mystery where all the characters are brought together while the
investigator reveals the identity of the killer, with suitable
interjections - or feed lines - from the assembled company:
'So - what? - you mean Roderick…'
'Yes, Lady Grainger, Roderick took the knife…'
'Roderick! How could you! That was your grandmother's gift to your father
and me.'
'Took the knife and waited behind the curtain until Sir Howard had finished
ablutions.'
'All right, Inspector, I'll admit I did it,' Roderick said. 'My father was
about to change his will. But tell me. How did you know it was me?'
'Ah.' The Inspector sat back in his chair. 'Let me take you back to last
Thursday night…'
But listen to me making fun. Time for another shamefaced admission: we all
do it. Because when all is said and done showing is only another way of
telling. Every line of a story, whether it is narration or dialogue, is
building up that picture in your reader's mind. The trick is to disguise as
much as possible when you are using dialogue to further the story. Again,
the more believable your characters' voice the less any of what they say
jars.
Of course, we have to keep reminding ourselves, we are talking about works
of fiction. No matter how closely it might approximate it, the world of the
story is not the three-dimensional world that we inhabit. (I will leave it
to other writers to convince you and me of other dimensions.) People in
stories say more - and better - and are a good deal less likely to be
interrupted than people we encounter in our day-today lives.
I said earlier that writers needed to 'open their ears' to become attuned to
dialogue, and of course a writer who is particularly skilled at it is said
to have a 'good ear'. But a good ear can also hear when enough is enough.
It's all very well to be able to reproduce the kind of dialogue you might
overhear on the bus, or the tube, or at the department-store door, but if
all that readers wanted was what they could hear in those places, wouldn't
they rather go there than buy a book or listen to your story on the radio?
Further Reading
Books
Lewis Herman (Routledge) - Foreign Dialects: A Manual for Actors,
Directors and Writers
A comprehensive guide to using believable dialects in scipts and
screenplays, but the principles apply to prose as well.
Jean Saunders (Allison and Busby) - How to Write Realistic Dialogue
More invaluable advice on how to get your characters speaking right proper
like.
Linda Edelstein (Writer's Digest Books) - Writer's Guide to Character
Traits
Personality traits boiled down to their essential elements which you can mix
and match to create your own psychological profiles for your characters.
Useful Links
BBC World Service; How to Write -
http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/arts/features/howtowrite/screenplay_creating.shtml
A brief overview of creating characters and dialogue from the BBC World
Service 'How to Write' website. Worth exploring for all the links to advice
from writers including Martin Amis, Robert McKee and Michele Roberts.
Be Write -
http://www.bewrite.net/community/tips/dialogue.htm
A useful feature on writing dialogue, covering how it can be too easy to
punctuate, if people really talk in the way they are written and how to use
dialect in dialogue.
iVillage; Writing Coach Tips -
http://www.ivillage.co.uk/newspol/readerswriters/writers/articles/0,,532364_535281,00.html
Writing coach Jessica Page Morrell provides a series of top tips and
examples to help polish up the use of dialogue.
More on Get Writing
Need some help deciding how to tell your story? Check out
Develop Your Voice, where Stella Duffy provides a whistle-stop guide to
the process of finding your own personal writing style. Remember, if you
register you can save writing tips and exercises to My Pinboard.
You can write and edit your work online at My Portfolio. Don't forget to
submit your works-in-progress to a
Review Circle for maximum feedback.
Find out more on Glenn Patterson
here.
Tip: make dialogue count
Dialogue should never be small-talk or conversation for its own sake - or
simply because you happen to like the line! Every word that your characters
utter should count.(OU)
Tip: Following grammar & syntax
Be aware that dialogue doesn't have to follow the grammatical and
syntactical rules of written English, but at the same time avoid the 'ums'
and 'ers' that practically everyone uses in daily speech (unless you want to
make a specific point about a character's indecision).
(OU)
Tip: Spotting too much dialogue
Avoid full pages of dialogue, unbroken by stage directions or descriptions.
People do not stop what they're doing in order to speak, and speech is often
a response to action, not just to another speech. There's nothing more
boring (to your audience) than long stretches of 'talking heads'.
(OU)
Tip: Using dialect and slang
Dialect and slang should be used sparingly, just to give a flavour of how a
character speaks. Slang dates quickly and dialect doesn't travel far - your
writing should be understandable a hundred years from now and 3,000 miles
away!
(OU)
Exercise: Building Context with Dialogue
Write a short scene in which the protagonist (central character/hero(ine))
meets the antagonist (love object, enemy, baddie, victim) for the first
time. Using mostly dialogue, try to build a sense of context (the world of
the story) and what the couple might want from each other.
Do write naturalistic speech (swear if it's appropriate,
but use dialect in moderation…) Dialogue should convey something essential
about the person speaking and move the story forward.
Don't waffle, as we do in 'real life. (No: 'Hello, how are
you today? What's the weather doing? That's really really nice…')
Don't ever fall for that old soap opera staple: 'We should
talk… Avoid cliché. (And no one ever really says that, do they?)
(UOE)
Exercise: Changing Dialogue
Take the paragraph below, written in the third person, and make it into a
piece of dialogue between two people in the present tense. Use as few
connecting words as possible (e.g. 'he said' or 'she asked'). Instead, try
to make it clear who is speaking by their speech - choice of words,
expressions and the way they speak.
'She told him about her plans for the future. He had always sounded
reticent about her moving away, so she explained her reasons. She wanted him
to treat her as a grown-up now, not as his little girl.'
(LU)
Exercise: Using Soundbites
Try to work any soundbites you note into an ongoing storyline, cutting out
any preamble and imagining the stories behind the speakers. Example:
(grandmother type to younger woman): "I don't like the big ones, do you?"
(answer) "It's OK if they're fresh. But Tescos do it better. The little ones
give me bad wind."
What could you make out of this? What would you leave out?
Don't write stereotypes (sweet old lady, air-headed blonde,
etc).
Do be subversive - turn characters on their heads and push
them as far as they will go within the realm of a story.
(UOE)
Credit:
Open University
Thanks to David Stephenson, Derek McTravers, Anne Stevens and Derek Sheills
for these tips and exercises. For more information on OU courses:
(OU)
Credit:
University of East Anglia
Thanks to Lisa Selvidge and the continuing education department for these
tips and exercises. For more information on UEA continuing education
courses:
(UEA)
Credit:
University of Exeter
Thanks to Anne Morgellyn for these tips. For more information on UOE
lifelong learning courses:
(UOE)
Credit:
Lancaster University
Thanks to Hilary Thomas and the Department for Continuing Education for
these tips and exercises. For more information on LU continuing education
courses:
LU
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