Showing posts with label dialogue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dialogue. Show all posts

Monday, May 23, 2011

A Dialogue about Dialogue - A Novel Matters Roundtable Discussion

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This month, the Novel Matters Roundtable is a true roundtable discussion. What follows is a transcript of the six of us in discussion about the topic of dialogue in fiction. We got a bit silly a couple of times, but that is how it goes whenever the six of us get together. We laugh a great deal. We sincerely hope you enjoy this transcript. When we were done, Patti Hill remarked, “It makes me want to have a retreat with all of you.”

Bonnie: Rich discussion this month on Novel Matters—I’ve noticed that dialogue has cropped up a number of times in different posts. Strong dialogue. Believable, driving plot, revealing. A tall order. When you sit down to write (or edit) a scene with lots of dialogue, how do you know your characters are ringing true? There is what is being said, and then there is conveying the manner in which it is being said, and the manner in which other characters perceive it’s being said.
Uh... What was I saying?

Katy: For me it's like being an actress, and getting into character. If I crawl into my character’s skin, take on the past that she has lived and feel what she must be feeling in the moment, then I can open my mouth and the words will come out. The tricky part is to inhabit more than one character at the same time, so I can carry all sides of the conversation. Sometimes I have to type quickly.

Bonnie: In theater that is called method acting. Method writing! I’d love to see you in action, Katy! So, for each character, you write an extensive history? Or how does that work?

Katy: Ha! I shut the door when I write - it looks too crazy. After I’d done my first novel this way, I discovered that Brandilyn Collins had written an excellent book on method writing, titled "Getting Into Character." She suggests writing very extensive histories by interviewing your characters, asking them questions and accepting as normal reality the fact that they answer back. I don't do it quite that way. I start off with just highlights of their past, because I know they will tell me more as the story progresses - and would do so even if it contradicted what I had already scripted for them.

Patti: Uh, is this the roundtable discussion going on? Is this the official start? Still waking up!

Bonnie: It has officially started, yes. Jump in!

Sharon: I don't have to shut the door, because I'm mostly home alone when I write. Which makes talking to myself all the more crazy. But I definitely do work out loud on my dialogue, and rehearse it over and over till I get it right. Because it's hugely important to get it right. When I'm not alone, I do a lot of whispering to myself. The point is, my lips are moving a lot, but it's often not because I'm involved in dialogue with real people, or real people who might happen to be in the same room with me. My family doesn't even question it anymore.

Bonnie: Katy, Love this. Reminds me of Arthur Plotnik’s guest post about Stage Business. The line he wrote that has always stuck with me is: "I love you," he told her. She checked her cell phone. No messages. "Love you, too." Sharon, I read aloud too. Not just dialogue, but especially dialogue. There’s authenticity to test, as you point out. I also listen to the character’s dialogue to ensure it’s unexpected, surprising, and interesting. I want my characters to say what they are saying without saying it in a way a reader would expect it to be said.

Sharon: Exactly, Bonnie. Straightforward dialogue can be extremely boring. I've read a number of manuscripts as contest entries this spring -- and a few books up for awards -- and I find this problem in the dialogue of novice writers all the time. Sub-text is a vital element to good dialogue in fiction.

Patti: Funny how so many of us have method-writing in common. And I agree, you must close the door if other people are in the house. If I don’t, hubby calls up from downstairs, “Did you say something?” Uh, yeah. Uh, no. That little contradiction reminds me of what’s so important in dialogue and deepens characterization. In good dialogue, the characters have opposing goals. One wants to talk about a new treatment for cancer. The other has already decided to forgo treatment but isn’t ready to say so. One wants to learn more about their relationship. The other would rather talk about anything else, so she talks about the high price of tomatoes. One is pleading for help, the other is squirming, changing the subject, interrupting, leaving the room. I’m not talking about arguments, but all of our characters want something, sometimes they want the same thing. They just go after it differently, and this shows up in dialogue.
I love writing dialogue.

Latayne: Recently I went back and looked at what I consider an exemplar for dialogue, The Help. Since it is all first person with multiple POVs, technically it's all dialogue. Stockett does a great job, I think, of creating distinct characters all participating in the same scenario. However, large sections of the book are each character's recounting of "quotation marks" dialogue where each recalls conversations. That's a bigger challenge for a writer, I think, when the narrator is already showing biases and distinct voice, and then conveys conversations.

Debbie: Maybe because I'm a visual learner, I love good movies (and some funny ones that wouldn't win any awards). When I sit down to write a scene, I 'see' it like it would play out in a movie from a script in front of me. I'm usually an onlooker, not a character, though I have to get into their heads. I'm a voyeur? :)

Katy: A voyeur that gets into people's heads. Sounds like a great plot for a movie...

Bonnie: ‘Being John Malkcovich’ is a movie about that very thing. Adult content—but an interesting movie if you like indie films.

Katy: I was thinking about the X-files, and that creepy guy that slithered through people's heater vents. Are we off topic?

Bonnie: Mildly. Just a titch. LOVED that episode. Creepy! Remember the toilet scene?
Okay, we should backtrack to Latayne’s excellent observations of dialogue in THE HELP—which was so clever, I’m not sure that it didn’t just sail right over my head.
I read THE HELP last year. I’ll have to revisit it and then interrupt, I mean, interject my (assuredly) intelligent observations.

Latayne: No, I’m not being clever. (But I’d love to be clever) I’m thinking through some of my frustrations with trying not to insert too much of myself into my narrator. Or dialogue. Or narrator’s dialogue. I hate this indecision.

Katy: Patti and Latayne both bring up what I consider to be the best kind of dialogue, the kind that tells the reader more than the characters themselves know, by use of cues other than words. It's one of the best ways a writer "tells it slant" that I know of.

Bonnie: Dialogue that is made up of non-verbals. Okay, Katy, you’re going to have to ‘splain that one more!

Katy: Non-verbals are the best part of dialog. What people don't say. (He says "I love you." She spoons sugar into her coffee and stirs.) Or, as Patti showed, what they say that has little or nothing to do with what was just said to them. A man tells his wife, "I'm worried about that lump in your breast." The wife says, "Do you think the blazer would look better than the cardigan?" and we know she would rather think about her breasts as fashion problems than health problems. Or she avoids the issue altogether and says, "Do you think it's too early to plant marigolds?"

Latayne: Remember a while back when we had a post about ways to insert “extra beats” of silence into dialogue? Like the verbal equivalent of a rest in music? That’s a non-verbal. Well, it’s a verbal way of conveying silence, which is by definition non-verbal. Right?

Bonnie: Okay, what about someone reading your dialogue to you? Anyone tried this? This is more difficult because while still writing the writer is still in don’t-day-anything-negative-about-my-stuff-or-I-will-cry-and-you-will-sleep-on-the-couch-tonight mode. Uh. Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.

Patti: I’ve recorded passages, including dialogue, to play back. Especially if I wait a day or two to listen, the words come to me raw and stilted and wooden, all things that can be fixed during revision. Am I being too negative? Did I already say that I love writing dialogue? I meant it! It flies onto the page. I don’t do any attributions in the rough draft. I do my voyeur best to take dictation. The key is to really know your characters and what they want and what they want to hide. We all want to hide something.

Katy: Today I have a very sore throat and it hurts to read aloud. So I'm using an old trick I often use when revising: I get a text-to-speech program to read what I've written back to me. I like TextAloud because it adds the function right into Microsoft Word. It's not the same as "performing" the dialogue myself, but I do catch things that I can fix.

Bonnie: And all the coolness of living in the future when all librarians will be robots. So that rocks.

Patti: So, like, having a painful sore throat isn’t even an excuse not to write? What’s left?

Debbie: Katy, I've heard that those programs are a great way to catch saggy spots in your dialogue, or your manuscript in general. When we read aloud, we tend to put inflection where we want it, but the reader won't necessarily do that. The dialogue has to be written so that the meaning comes across clearly without it, maybe using tags. I haven't tried one yet, but I'll try the one you suggested.

Katy: Good point, Patti. And good point, Debbie. I started using it because I like to hear what I'm writing. That may come from my days reading to my sons, when I steered them toward books that were fun to read aloud. To my mind, if it doesn't crackle when read aloud, it just doesn't crackle. Dialogue, especially, should crackle. No matter the age of the reader.

Patti: As a reader, I love dialogue too. All that white space and the immediacy of overhearing a conversation that is making things happen. Rarely does anything so satisfying happen when I’m eavesdropping in real life. Dialogue is like stepping out of a forest, especially like the one in The Princess Bride and coming to an open meadow with lots of sunshine. It’s a place to sigh.

Sharon: I agree, Patti --- and love the analogy of the forest in Princess Bride, which is one of my very favorite movies. I can overlook other shortfalls in a novel if the dialogue is right. It must be snappy, straightforward only when it must be, and it must do so much more than deliver facts. Good dialogue is a must if a book is to have lasting value.

Bonnie: Princess Bride has the best, most quotable dialogue (so does the book).
Patti, you used the phrase “white space”. When I read that, I thought maybe dialogue serves the reader as a kind of “relief” from the density of the novel. Except when I say that it doesn’t sound right.... Maybe it’s like when you’re writing a lengthy part in the novel (and no dialogue), you ensure you use different sentence lengths, and even interject questions instead of straight declarations. Dialogue serves to enliven the readers experience.

Am I close?

Patti: All of that, Bonnie. The white space around the dialogue does give the reader a break from the slower pace of narrative, but that doesn’t give us license to have plodding narrative. Yes, read everything you write out loud. Vary sentence structure and length. It’s always a good idea to shake it up, or your writing will sound like a Dick and Jane reader. Nooooo!
~
And what about you, faithful reader? What have you learned about writing good dialogue? Do you act out in front of your computer? Do you remember that episode of the X-files? We look forward to continuing the discussion with you!

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Showing vs. Telling: Subtexting


In Bonnie's fabulous post on Showing vs. Telling, she mentioned two major components - POV and subtext. I thought that today we would dig further into subtext.

Subtext is elusive and often revealed by dialogue. Randy Ingermanson (the Snowflake Guy) summed it up on his website, Advanced Fiction Writing. You can check it out here.

'Roughly speaking
, subtexting refers to the art of putting a whole different layer of meaning under the surface, so that the dialogue is not really about what the dialogue appears to be about.'

Subtext can be implied or it can deliberately disguise. Some authors use it to state a belief, further a cause or even hint at a relationship that may offend the sensibilities of some readers. In any case, a good writer utilizes subtext rather than writing 'on the nose'. 'On the nose' dialogue states what the author wants to say in no uncertain terms and sounds unnatural and contrived. In normal conversation, people often don't say what they really mean. If April is asked if she's upset that her boyfriend broke up with her, she may reply that he was a loser anyway and by-the-way, she's having the stupid tattoo they got together removed from her...shoulder. Her friends will give each other knowing looks behind her back, and although she never admitted to being hurt, they know she is.

Subtext can be witty. Think of Nick and Nora Charles of the Thin Man (am I dating myself?). Seriously, you should rent a few of the Thin Man movies if you haven't seen them already. Their relationship always simmers just below the surface and often complicates whatever murder they are investigating.

Nick and Nora's subtext may be easy to spot, but in most cases, the writer has to trust that his readers 'get it.' Subtlety is the signature trait of subtext. By nature, it is elusive and felt more than seen. And it makes for a much better story. Without it, the story will seem contrived and moralistic.

What stories can you think of that do this well? We'd love to hear from you!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

TENSION in Dialogue

"On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
TWO TURTLE DOVES!"

I'll send the complete 3-book Garden Gate series, signed as you like, to the person who can find an author's last name in the phrase: TWO TURTLE DOVES and name a title by that author OR submit a book title with one of the words from the phrase and the author. Submit your entry using the "Contact" button above. See complete details for the contest on the November 23rd post. Good Luck! The winner will be announced on Friday, November 27th. You'll have the books by Christmas!

Christmas.

Love. Light. Hope. TENSION!

Kohls and Kmart want me to go Christmas shopping at 4 AM. This isn't going to happen. No way. No how.

I will try my hardest (during civilized shopping hours) to find low-cost, eco-friendly, functional, surprising, life-affirming, unique gifts for 30 people. Sure, I could give gift cards, but I feel like I'm cheating, like I'm not willing to tremble the synapses to find the just-right gift. I know some of you will think I'm obsessive-compulsive. Please don't scold me. I'll only feel worse.

And that brings us to tension in dialogue. You must have it. I'm not talking about angry, arguing voices. I'm talking about two characters with conflicting motivations and needs conversing, purposefully.

Tension is what holds a reader in a story. They're wondering what will happen next for the characters they've come to love. Tension in fiction happens best in dialogue. I've selected three examples for your consideration. In each example the characters want something in conflict with what the other character wants.

In this first example from The Persian Pickle Club by Sandra Dallas, Queenie and her husband, Grover, are talking about a family who is camping on their land as they journey westward to California during the Depression.

“I hope you shooed them right off. You know how I hate tramps.”

“They’re not tramps, Queenie.”

The way he said it made me look at him. “Well, gypsies, then. It’s almost the same thing.”

“No, they’re not gypsies, either. Not these folks. They’re just people, hill people, down-and-out. They’re pretty near as broke as anybody I ever saw.”

“You told them to move on, didn’t you?”

“No,” he said, rubbing the little port-wine spot on his chin.

“We can’t have people like that camping on our land.”

“What do you mean, ‘people like that’?” Grover asked. He moved his hand away from mine and picked up a hermit and bit it in half, spilling crumbs on the table. “They’re people like Ruby and Floyd. People like you and me.”

Queenie wants the travelers to move on. She's uncomfortable with their presence, maybe she's frightened. Grover, on the other hand, sees these folks as people having a difficult time, like some of the people he knows. Dallas demonstrates the tension in the probing questions of Queenie and the resoluteness of Grover. Also, she uses dialogue tags masterfully--rubbing of the chin, the moving away of a hand--to show tension. Delicious! (BTW, hermits are a baked good.)

This next example is from Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. Camel is a circus worker and Jacob is a fresh-faced kid joining up.

Camel squints up at me. “What did you say your name was?”

“Jacob Jankowski.”

“You got red hair.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Where you from?”

I pause. Am I from Norwich or Ithaca? Is where you’re from the place you’re leaving or where you have roots?

“Nowhere,” I say.

Camel’s face hardens. He weaves slightly on bowed legs, casting an uneven light from the swinging lantern. “You done something, boy? You on the lam?”

Camel wants to know something about this kid he'll be sharing a boxcar with. Jacob doesn't want to be known. Gruen uses short, choppy sentences and questions meant to rouse and some that aren't answered at all to create story-driving, reader-hooking tension. I love it.

In the category of books I wish I'd written is The Whistling Season by Ivan Doig, a story about loyalty, tradition, and family--all in a one-roomed schoolhouse in Montana. In this example of tension in dialogue, Doig builds tension by having the characters interrupt one another. Listening is the toughest thing to do when you want to be the boss of everything.

Eddie Turley was one thing Carnelia and I could agree on. We both knew what an incurable pain in the neck Eddie could be when he wanted to. Panic starting to show in us, she and I faced each other with the breeze-blown rope between us. We had to invent together or else.

“I think we first of all have to put that through there and then—”

“No, dummy, that’s backwards, we to need to—”

“You’re not the boss of everything. Let me—”

“Will you just not be so grabby and–watch out!”

It was not clear who had been in main possession of the flag and who hadn’t. But there it lay, dumped in the dirt between us.

I didn't experience one lick of trouble finding dialogue with tension, some more subtle than others. That's because good writers always keep their character's motivations--wants and needs--in mind when they write dialogue.