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The Writer’s Toolbox: Dialogue

by | April 21, 2020 | | 0 Comments

Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash

I’ve written about dialogue before on this blog, but it seems an important enough topic that I wanted to give it another go.

The Functions of Dialogue

An author has many techniques and tools available to help her tell her story. One of the most useful is dialogue. Dialogue is the literal speech of characters, often in conversation with one another.

Example A

Louisa asked me what I planned to do today. I replied with something non-committal.

Example B

“What about today?” Louisa asked. “What are your plans?”

“I’m really not sure. Depends on what I find when I check my email.”

Example A above is not dialogue. Even though it refers to characters’ speech, it does not include the actual words spoken, as provided by Example B.

Dialogue supports story telling in a variety of important ways. First of all, dialogue reveals the nature of characters. The words that the characters choose can convey information about the characters’ emotional state, educational level, ethnicity, and style of interaction. Also, dialogue can clarify the relationships between characters. Are they intimates or casual acquaintances? Is there a power differential, e.g. between an employer and an employee, or a royal and his servant? Consider the following variants on Example B.

Example C

“What about today?” Louisa asked. “What are your plans?”

“Dunno. Depends.”

Example D

“What are your plans for today, sir? Will you be needing me?”

“I’m not sure, Louisa. Perhaps. I’ll ring if I require your assistance.”

In Example C, we can surmise that the second speaker is close to Louisa, given his informal grammar. He might also be a surly teenager! Example D makes it obvious that the second speaker is in some sense the master, and the first is his subordinate.

Dialogue can also be used to advance the action in your story. Well-crafted dialogue can substitute for describing what the characters are doing.

Example E

“Quick! The ceiling’s on fire! It could collapse at any moment!”

“If I can just get this damn window open – argh, it’s stuck – wait, it’s moving – there! Come on, I’ll give you a boost!”

Example E (hopefully) makes the characters actions clear while also revealing something about their emotional state.

Finally, dialogue can inform your reader about backstory or reveal information that is essential for the plot.

Example F

“We found an empty gasoline can in the back yard, and half a dozen burnt kitchen matches. Must have been arson.”

“I’ll bet that it was Henry Jones. He’s had it in for me ever since Joyce chose to marry me instead of him.”

As the author, I could have described the first speaker’s actions in finding the evidence. Perhaps I could have introduced the envious Henry earlier and explained his history. However, using dialogue I can convey this information while also giving the reader some sense of the characters’ personalities and styles.

In all the examples above, I have presented only the characters’ words, along with the occasional speech tag (see below). It is quite common, though, to intersperse speech with descriptions of actions or emotions:

Example G

Charanjit came to the door as Benton sat eating the last of his sweet rice, sometime around noon. “We are ready to roll, my friend.” His clothes were soaked from head to toe and his puttees were spattered with mud, but his smile was cheerful. “The radiator is fixed.”

“Good.” Benson smiled back. “I owe you for last night.”

Charanjit cocked his head. “It is nothing. Only a trip to Darwha – you have already paid for the radiator.”

Benton chuckled. “No, not that. I was talking about the woman. You’ll have to tell me what I owe you—whatever you paid, it was not enough. She was very fine.”

Charanjit frowned. “What woman, Joseph? I did not pay for a woman.”

(from “Monsoon”, by Arinn Dembo, Best Fantastic Erotica, Circlet Press 2007)

Example G uses dialogue to convey plot information and character relationships, but relies on physical description (smiled, cocked his head, frowned, etc.) to explicate the characters’ emotions.

It is perfectly possible to write a story without any dialogue at all. At the same time, I have read stories which were dialogue only. The entire background, plot and character development were all communicated by what the characters were saying. As an author, you need to decide how to best use dialogue in your writing. However, there are several pitfalls in using dialogue of which you should be aware.

Common Problems with Dialogue

Punctuating Dialogue

Dialogue should always appear inside quotation marks. In American English, the text of the character’s speech should be enclosed in double quotes “like this”. Some publishers who use British English specify that speech should be enclosed in single quotes instead, ‘like this’. In either case, a reference to someone else’s speech inside a quotation should use the opposite style of quotation mark. For example:

Example H

“It wasn’t John F. Kennedy who said ‘I have a dream’. It was Martin Luther King,” Robert insisted.

(American English style)

Many authors are unsure of how to punctuate dialogue when it includes so-called speech tags such as I said or Robert insisted. The general rule is that the punctuation of the sentence being spoken goes inside the quotation marks. Futhermore, instead of using a period to punctuate a statement, one should use a comma (as shown in Example H). This is only true when the quoted speech is followed by a speech tag. Example J below shows the correct American English punctuation for statements, questions and exclamations, with and without speech tags.

Example J

“Dialogue is easy,” Mary said. “It’s creating a plot that is difficult.”

“How can I tell whether to use dialogue or not?” asked Jim. “Can you explain?”

“Easy!” exclaimed Mary. “Can you hear the characters talking in your head? If so, use dialogue!”

Dialect

When a character has particular ethnic or social background, it’s tempting to try to indicate this in his dialogue by using non-standard or phonetic spellings.

Example K

“Youse guys are dead meat,” threatened Joe. “Yer not gettin’ away from me this time.”

“Y’all sher gave me a start. I hain’t seen anythin so black in a week a Sundays.”

“Sher, and she’s a wee bairn.”

Used judiciously, dialect, and especially regional vocabulary or idioms, can enhance your dialogue, making it more colorful and expressive. Most editors, however, frown on non-standard spellings like the ones employed in Example K. Instead of distorting the spelling of words, you can use typical cadence of speech from a particular ethnic group as well as distinctive expletives or expressions. Be careful, too, in using foreign terms or words that are likely to be unfamiliar to your readers (like “bairn”, above). This can be a particular problem with historical fiction. You need to consider whether the context will be sufficient to clarify the meaning. When in doubt, it is better to use common or standard words then to employ a special term that might confuse or confound your readers.

Conversational versus Formal Style

One of my personal problems when I began writing was that my dialogue was far too formal. My characters all spoke in full sentences and rarely if ever used contractions. In fact, except in special circumstances (such as public speeches), people tend to use much more informal language in speech than in writing. Sentence fragments are common, as is slang and contractions. Interjections (words like “Hey!”, “Huh?”, “Um…”) are interspersed with content and help to convey emotion. My early dialogue sounded stiff and unnatural, and all my characters talked as though they had PhDs.

A strategy for making dialogue more natural is to try reading it aloud. Do your characters sound realistic? Do they interrupt themselves? Do they express emotion as well as information?

Improving your dialogue

Learning to write realistic dialogue takes practice. Listening can help. Tune in and eavesdrop on the conversations you might overhear on the bus or waiting in line at the grocery store.

Then, when you sit down to write your own dialogue, try to listen to your characters. Imagine them speaking. Hear them in the your head.

Another great way to practice is to write all-dialogue Flashers. In case you’re not familiar with the term, a flasher is an entire story in only two hundred (or some people say, one hundred!) words. That’s tough to do – but it becomes even more of a challenge if you try to use only conversation to push the plot forward.

Sundays in the Storytime email list are dedicated to flashers (and poems). If you’d like to see how it’s done, or try your hand yourself, you can join the Storytime list here.

Meanwhile, I’ll end with an all dialogue flasher I wrote a few years ago. It’s particularly appropriate since I’m currently immersed in a steam punk erotica WIP!

Research

By Lisabet Sarai

“Miss Meriweather. Increase the gain by another order of magnitude. Ah—oh, by Newton’s apples!—”

“Is that too much, Professor? Shall I dial it back?”

“No, no, we must continue. Another notch, please.”

“But your face is scarlet, sir. And your member—Oh, God, are those sparks?”

“To be expected when experimenting with electrical forces, Miss Meriweather. Adjust the rheostat as I’ve instructed. Argh—that’s good, excellent…Oh! More. More…!”

“Sir, the boiler will blow. The needle’s halfway into the red zone already.”

“We need more power—more steam—oh, incredible! Amazing! We shall be the first to chronicle the detailed response of the male organ to various levels of electrical stimulation—oh, by Aristotle, turn it up, girl! Don’t stop now!”

“I smell burning. And you’re drenched with sweat.”

“All—all the better—ah! Enhances conductivity—what? What are you doing?“

“Protecting you from excessive scientific curiosity. I don’t want you hurt.”

“But—I was so close to a breakthrough… Unstrap me immediately, Miss Meriweather. If you won’t assist me, I’ll have to man the controls myself.”

“Sorry, Professor. I can’t do that.”

“You disobedient little hussy! And where—oh, by Pythagoras, you’re not wearing knickers!”

“Before you research artificial sexual stimulation, sir, shouldn’t you investigate the real thing?”

 

Making Every Word Count

by | July 21, 2019 | | 1 Comment

The word "shameless"Image by Wokandapix from Pixabay

For the last couple of years, I’ve been self-publishing almost all my work. I love the freedom and control that comes with self-publishing; you can mix and match genres, write books of almost any length, create covers you love, and enjoy the instant gratification of seeing your books hit the shelves immediately rather than having them sit for weeks or months in some publisher’s queue.

However, I’ve come to realize that self-publishing can lead to some bad habits.

When I was submitting to a publisher or to anthology, I almost always had limits on the word count. For short story collections, this was usually in the 3-5K word range. The erotic romance novellas I wrote for specific calls were usually restricted to 15K.

Keeping a story below a word count limit can be a tough job. I almost always have to shorten what I’ve written in order to meet the submission requirements. This takes discipline and effort, but the results usually reflect a higher level of craft. In contrast, a self-published book can be as wordy as you want. In fact, the longer the book, the more you can charge. This tends to encourage sloppiness. Why strive for conciseness when it’s actually against your financial best interests?

Of course, cutting the fat will ultimately improve the quality of a book, but the absence of a limit has a tendency to reduce motivation.

In the last couple of months, I’ve been writing to spec for a publisher who has a hard limit of 3000 words. Every story I’ve produced for them has exceeded this in the first draft. Hence, I’ve been forced to focus on strategies for reducing the length. I’ve been learning (or re-learning) how to make every word count. I thought I’d share some of these methods in this post.

1. Sacrifice setting to story

Anyone who’s read any of my work will have noticed that I give setting a good deal more attention than many authors. With almost everything I write, I have in mind some particular place and time, and I normally dedicate considerable effort to bringing the setting to life. The environment and mood almost always play a role in shaping the characters and their actions.

However, the story needs to come first. Hence, if I need to shorten a piece, I’ll start by looking at the descriptions of the surroundings. I consider how critical each detail really is, how much it contributes to the central narrative. Sentences or phrases which enhance the atmosphere but are not essential to moving the story forward are prime candidates for the cutting floor.

Here’s an example from a recent story:

First draft (50 words)

I tried not to stare as I clambered barefoot onto the bus that would take us from the steamy, crowded streets of Saigon to the Dalat highlands. My sandals stuffed into a plastic bag provided by the management, I peered at my ticket and tried to locate the corresponding seat.

Final draft (41 words)

I struggled not to stare as I shuffled barefoot down the aisle of the bus that would take us from the steamy, crowded streets of Saigon to the Dalat highlands. Peering at my ticket, I tried to locate the corresponding seat.

When I took one of these buses myself, I was fascinated by the process (which everyone except me understood) of carrying one’s shoes, but this detail really isn’t important to the story.

2. Use dialogue to replace description and action

Sometimes you can establish facts, as well as delineate characters, more succinctly using dialogue than description. Although I like to intersperse action and speech in my fictional conversations, sometimes the action can be condensed with if the word count is tight.

First draft (120 words)

“Here’s your coffee.” A decadent swirl of whipped cream decorated the cup Martin placed before me. Perched on top was a tiny milk-chocolate heart.

“That looks amazing. And fattening.”

“Not something you need to worry about, Ms. Jordan.” His hazel eyes glittered with mirth.

Todd appeared beside him. “And your muffin…” Melted butter dripped down the toasted surfaces of the two halves.

“I didn’t ask for butter,” I protested, a bit alarmed by all the calories in front of me.

“You can’t have a blueberry muffin without butter,” insisted the sandy-haired barista. “It’s illegal!”

We laughed together. “What the heck,” I said, surrendering to their charm. “I didn’t have any breakfast.” I dove into the feast they’d prepared for me.

Final draft (66 words)

“Here’s your coffee,” Martin announced. “I added some whipped cream.”

“That looks amazing. And fattening.”

“Not something you need to worry about, Ms. Jordan.”

“And your muffin, ma’am…” Todd presented a butter-soaked plate.

“Hey, I didn’t ask for butter!”

“You can’t have a blueberry muffin without butter,” insisted the sandy-haired barista. “It’s illegal!”

I surrendered to their charm. “What the heck. I didn’t have any breakfast.”

Dialogue is often shorter than description because you do not need to use full sentences. Also, you can convey emotion through word choice and punctuation, rather than describing things like tone of voice or expression.

This example also illustrates another dialogue-related technique, namely, dropping speech tags when the identity of the speaker is clear. However, you need to be careful when excising speech tags; you don’t want to confuse the reader.

3. Modify sentence structure to make it more compact

If you have complex, multi-clause sentences, you can sometimes save words by turning one clause into a modifier. My example under 1 also illustrates this strategy.

First draft (12)

I peered at my ticket and tried to locate the corresponding seat.

Final draft (11)

Peering at my ticket, I tried to locate the corresponding seat.

We’re only saving one word in this case, but in other situations, the benefits might be more significant. Besides, when you have a hard word count limit, every word counts!

Here’s another example:

First draft (20)

Though I’d been watching her like a hawk all evening, I somehow missed the instant when she shed her clothes.

Final draft (13)

Despite my almost constant scrutiny, I somehow missed the instant when she undressed.

4. Consider removing modifiers

Most of my first drafts have way too many adverbs. In some cases, I overdo the adjectives as well. If you’re trying to shorten a story, review all your descriptive words and consider how important each one is to your goals in the story. In particular, consider cases where you use multiple modifiers for the same noun or verb. You don’t want to take them all out; your tale will lose all its individuality and sparkle. Sometimes, though, cutting one or two adjectives or adverbs will heighten the effect of the ones that remain.

First draft (98)

The woman in the window seat to my right had more flesh than I’d usually find attractive, and most of it was on display. Her light, floral-patterned cotton sundress had spaghetti straps, one of which had slipped down over her smooth shoulder. Her massive, pillowy breasts shifted underneath the fabric, every time she moved. The short hem rode up to expose her big but surprisingly firm thighs. She was fair-haired with a peaches-and-cream complexion—her accent suggested she was a Brit. The delicate dress was thin enough, though, that I could make out darker patches surrounding her nipples.

Final draft (85)

The woman in the window seat to my right had more flesh than I’d usually find attractive, and most of it was on display. Her floral-patterned sundress had spaghetti straps, one of which had slipped down over her smooth shoulder. Her massive breasts shifted underneath the fabric, whenever she moved. The short hem exposed her surprisingly firm thighs. She was fair-haired with a peaches-and-cream complexion—her accent suggested she was a Brit. Through the thin dress, I could make out darker patches surrounding her nipples.

In this example, I considered cutting the adverb “usually”, but I decided it was necessary. I wanted to convey the fact that my narrator 1) is attracted to women but 2) is not usually attracted to big women.

Writing flashers is a great way to practice conciseness. What’s a flasher? A complete story in 200 words. ERWA pioneered flashers on its Storytime list decades ago. When I first joined ERWA, flashers were restricted to only 100 words!

Initially, I had great difficulty writing flashers. My approach was to write the story first, then use drastic surgery to cut it to the necessary length. This Procrustean effort rarely produced satisfying results. The story arc suffered; the action usually felt jerky or incomplete.

As I’ve matured as a writer, I’ve also found flashers have become easier (though they’re still an instructive challenge). My current technique is to imagine the story, then begin to write, watching the word count as I do. As I use up my allocation of words, I go back to modify the earlier sentences, using techniques like the ones I discuss in this post. Normally the first full draft will be over by 10-20 words, but it will capture the essence of the plot. Then I can review and further trim the text, without too much fear of compromising the narrative.

You can find lots of flashers in the Erotica Gallery section of the website. If you want to try your hand, consider subscribing to the Storytime list. Every Sunday you can submit up to three flashers for comments and critiques.

Here’s one of my favorites, to give you the idea.

Faded Plaid Flannel

By Lisabet Sarai

He’d left it behind when he moved out. Guess the old bathrobe became too ratty even for his casual tastes. She can’t look at it without seeing his wiry frame wrapped in the faded plaid flannel, crouched over his poetry at the kitchen table. Vodka on one side, smoldering cigarette on the other, close enough to touch, a million miles away.

She holds it to her face, breathing him in, sweat and tobacco, and underneath, that elusive musk that first hooked her. Addictive, intoxicating—in an instant she’s drunk with the astounding lust that first drew them together. Eyes closed, she relives their ecstatic frenzy, the clarity of pure connection. In bed they were one body, obscene and holy. She never cared what they did; every carnal act felt like a sacrament. The loss of him, of that glory, is a vast, black, aching wound in her chest.

He’d felt it, too. Inhaling her female perfume, he lost himself, drowned in her lushness. Scary. One reason— along with his wanderlust—that he’s gone.

Chemistry’s not the same as compatibility.

She stuffs the rag between her thighs. Eventually the flannel will smell only of her.

Why not join us next Sunday? You have nothing to lose except unnecessary words!

Say What?

by | October 21, 2018 | | 6 Comments

“This book had a great variety of terrific sex scenes, but the author cannot write dialogue to save her life. They all end up sounding like wooden Indians.” ~ J. Mullally

The quote above comes from an Amazon review of my second novel, Incognito, published in 2002. Needless to say, the comment made me cringe, but I have to admit that when I started publishing, dialogue was definitely a weak spot for me.

Before diving into fiction, I’d written a lot of technical material: research papers, product specifications, user manuals, and a five-hundred page dissertation. I knew how to convey ideas in an articulate and logical manner, but I really had very little experience capturing the nuances of human conversation. Read some of my early dialogue and you’ll see the effects of my formal background.

* * *

“Miranda, I would like to present Mark Anderson, our new lecturer. Mark will be handling the Dickens course for the summer session.”

“Mark, this is Miranda Cahill, my most promising graduate student.” Miranda blushed, and Dr. Scofield’s eyes twinkled. “Miranda has chosen a rather controversial topic for her thesis: a new interpretation of the corpus of Victorian erotica.”

The newcomer’s polite smile expanded to a grin. “Really! That’s fascinating. Sounds far more—stimulating—than my dissertation on the metaphorical significance of orphans in Dickens and his contemporaries.”

Miranda’s blush deepened as she noted the double entendre. She met his teasing gaze, almost defiantly. “Yes, it is an intriguing topic, and I believe one of considerable literary and social significance, as well.” He had thick, dark hair, slightly tousled. His eyes behind the glasses were velvety brown with glints of gold. In his face, she saw intelligence, energy, and humor.

“Miranda has championed an unusual theory: that the explosion of sexually-oriented writing during the latter half of the nineteenth century was a reflection of actual practices, rather than a reaction against repressive public morals.” Her advisor appeared to be enjoying the role of agent provocateur. “She believes that the detailed accounts of sexual adventure and aberration published during the era chronicled real experiences, not merely fantasies.”

“Hmm.” Their bespectacled companion looked both amused and interested. “What evidence do you have to support this proposition?”

“Well, to begin with,” said Miranda, automatically adopting an academic tone, “a significant fraction of these writings are first person accounts. And a surprising number are related from a woman’s perspective. If this were primarily a literature of fantasy and titillation, I would expect a male point-of-view to dominate, as it does in modern pornography.” Miranda was encouraged to see that her audience listened attentively and gave due consideration to her points.

“Secondly, these tales are full of real-world details and commentary that would be superfluous and even distracting in fictional erotica. The protagonists discuss social issues such as poverty, child abuse, oppression of the lower classes, things that can only detract from a work intended as escapist fantasy. Even a hack pornographer knows better than to mention the unpleasant or the mundane: illegitimate pregnancies, unpaid bills, rising damp. Yet references to such items are common in the corpus.”

“Finally, I find in many of these writings a thoughtfulness that conflicts with the conventions of the pornographic genre. The narrators are engaged in a wide variety of sexual activities, which are described in vivid and provocative detail. At the same time, in many cases, they reflect on their own desires and behaviors, sometimes justifying themselves in the face of the official morality, sometimes castigating themselves for weakness and sinfulness. Either way, there is a psychological depth that would be redundant in fictional erotica.”

“So, what you are saying,” interposed Mark with a grin, “is that a fictional character would simply go ahead and bugger his maid, whereas an individual writing a clandestine diary would spend some time and effort wondering why he wanted to bugger his maid, before he got around to actually doing it?”

“No, no, that’s not it at all!” Miranda, embarrassed and flustered, wondered if the new instructor had been reading her manuscript over her shoulder. Her eyes flashed. “You’re not willing to take me seriously, any more than the submission review committee for the Association for Modern Literature!”

“Now, Miranda,” soothed her advisor. “Mark was just teasing you.” Looking again at the attractive stranger, Miranda saw that Scofield was telling the truth.

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean to offend you, Miranda.” Mark held out his hand like a peace offering. “I really am delighted to meet you. I think your theory is unconventional and provocative, but who knows, it might actually be true.”

* * *

As it happens, these characters are all academics (as I had been for such a long time), but still, their formality sounds artificial.

In my first books, people spoke in full sentences most of the time. They didn’t use contractions. They never interrupted one another. Furthermore, they used each other’s names so frequently that one might wonder whether they were trying to reinforce their faulty memories.

Fortunately I was more adept at writing sex scenes than dialogue, or I might never have found any readers!

The problem is that dialogue can play multiple, critical roles in a narrative. It reveals character— immediate emotions and concerns as well as more persistent aspects such as class and ethnicity. Dialogue also advances the action; indeed, speech is action, and an entire plot can turn on a conversation. Conversations can also inform the reader about history or backstory, in a more subtle and less disruptive manner than unadorned exposition. Thus, poor dialogue can be more than just an annoyance. It can ruin an entire book.

I joined ERWA in 2000, not long before I wrote this novel. Since then, I’ve participated in Storytime and Writers, written nearly a hundred stories and edited a number of anthologies. ERWA has exposed me to authors who are true doyens of dialogue, especially Bob Buckley, Daddy X, and more recently, Belinda LaPage.

My characters’ conversations still can’t begin to match some of what I read, but I know I’ve improved quite a bit. I now understand that in order to write dialogue successfully, you have to hear the characters in your head. How can you get to the point where your characters talk to you? By reading effective dialogue by other people, and by listening to people actually talking.

If you listen to real world conversations, you’ll recognize that they’re very “messy”. People rarely speak in full sentences. They sprinkle their dialogue with exclamations, “ums” and “ohs”, filling the space while they thing about what to say next. They start one utterance then interrupt themselves to express a totally different thought. They interrupt the other speakers too. Because the partners in a conversation have a shared context, one or two words can convey meaning without ambiguity. Of course, one partner can easily misunderstand this sort of abbreviated utterance, also.

People make grammar errors, too. You have no idea how hard it has been for me to let my characters do that! Between my education and my experience editing, I have finely tuned detectors for faux pas like dangling participles, tense errors, incorrect pronouns and word misuse. Sometimes, though, that’s exactly what dialogue needs, to make a character seem real.

One useful exercise, I’ve found, is writing all-dialogue flashers. I learned how to do that from Daddy X, “the master of flash”. A flasher tells a complete story in 200 words or less. Trying to do this in dialogue is a fabulous challenge. You need to convey the characters, their relationships, and their actions, without any description at all (and ideally, without speak tags). I can’t begin to match Daddy’s expertise in the genre, but here’s an example that illustrates the technique:

Research

By Lisabet Sarai

“Miss Meriweather. Increase the gain by another order of magnitude. Ah—oh, by Newton’s apples!—”

“Is that too much, Professor? Shall I dial it back?”

“No, no, we must continue. Another notch, please.”

“But your face is scarlet, sir. And your member—Oh, God, are those sparks?”

“To be expected when experimenting with electrical forces, Miss Meriweather. Adjust the rheostat as I’ve instructed. Argh—that’s good, excellent…Oh! More. More…!”

“Sir, the boiler will blow. The needle’s halfway into the red zone already.”

“We need more power—more steam—oh, incredible! Amazing! We shall be the first to chronicle the detailed response of the male organ to various levels of electrical stimulation—oh, by Aristotle, turn it up, girl! Don’t stop now!”

“I smell burning. And you’re drenched with sweat.”

“All—all the better—ah! Enhances conductivity—what? What are you doing?“

“Protecting you from excessive scientific curiosity. I don’t want you hurt.”

“But—I was so close to a breakthrough… Unstrap me immediately, Miss Meriweather. If you won’t assist me, I’ll have to man the controls myself.”

“Sorry, Professor. I can’t do that.”

“You disobedient little hussy! And where—oh, by Pythagoras, you’re not wearing knickers!”

“Before you research artificial sexual stimulation, sir, shouldn’t you investigate the real thing?”

* * *

Then there’s the question of dialect, that is, using speech characteristics to convey nationality, race, social class and so on. Robert Buckley does this incredibly well. Whether his setting is Irish Boston or the Civil War South, his characters talk like natives.

I’ve mostly avoided dialect in my work. It’s really easy to overdo, and can make your dialogue difficult to read and understand. Recently, though, for my novella More Brides in Vegas, I had to create a character who spoke with a very strong dialect – for the sake of my plot and for comic effect. I sought out a lot of help from ERWA folk on this one, in particular from a member whose father came from Glasgow:

* * *

A gruff, male, almost unintelligible voice interrupted her.

“I wannae see the hoatel manager. Where’s the fookin’ manager, you little eejit?”

A giant of a man with a barrel chest and legs like telephone poles strode into the courtyard from the direction of the hotel lobby, dragging a skinny college-age boy with him. The kid—Chantal remembered she’d seen him behind the hotel desk when she’d picked up her key—cringed and silently pointed in Nan’s direction.

“Gawn! D’ye think ahm buttoned up the back? That nekkid dyke?”

Cool as anything, as self-assured as if she’d been wearing a designer suit instead of a strap-on, Nan rose to her feet and confronted the newcomer. Though she was at least a foot shorter, the obviously angry man paused when confronted by her natural authority

“I’m Nan Anderson, general manager of the Holiday House,” she said. “I’ll thank you to let Michael go.”

He glared at her from under bushy ginger brows. Nan didn’t flinch in the slightest.

“Now, please. He’s just a part-time clerk. Whatever your difficulty, I’ll take care of it.”

He opened his ham-sized hand. Poor Michael almost crumpled to the floor.

“Get back to the desk, Mike. I’ll handle this.”

The young man scuttled away.

“Now, sir,” she continued, her voice cool and professional despite her nudity. “What’s the problem?”

“Thae gormless tool said yer fool for the weeken’.” The foreigner scowled and waved a sheet of paper in her face. “Me an’ me mates booked an’ paid. Ye dinnae think we’re gonnae come all thae way to America fer a ternamen’ but nae reserve our rooms, did ye?”

“Can I see that, please?” Nan scrutinized what was obviously a printout from some website. “I have to admit the dates match. But we’re closed for a private event this weekend. We blocked out the rooms more than three months ago. I don’t know why the booking site—”

“Ah dinnae ken an’ ah dinnae cerr. Me an’ me chaps need beds. Been on a fookin’ plane for ferteen hours.”

“Um—how many are in your group?”

The angry customer shook his head. “Aye, but yer stoopit, lass. Who doesnae know thae a rugby team’s fifteen men?”

“Rugby?” Nan looked him up and down, as if that explained his stature. “Oh!”

The guy broke into a grin. “Glassgow Gladiators. City champs.”

“And you are?”

He gave a little bow. “Ian Stuart, team captain. At yer service.”

* * *

I will admit, I’m quite proud of this bit. It’s encouraging to see I’ve learned something in more than fifteen years of writing.

At least he doesn’t sound like a wooden Indian.

What You Say? Using Dialogue to Strengthen Your Stories

by | March 21, 2016 | | 7 Comments

By Lisabet Sarai

It may be a bit presumptuous for me to write a craft-focused article about dialogue. Creating engaging, lively, believable conversations has never been one of my strong points. I did a major revision of my first novel a few months ago. I found the dialogue I wrote back in 1999 to be truly cringe-worthy. All the characters speak in full sentences, rarely employing contractions. They use each other’s names far more frequently than people do in real life. There are no pauses, no hesitations, no interruptions. As a result, the dialogue feels stiff, awkward and unrealistic.

I’ve learned a great deal since then, however. Some reviewers of my most recent novel, The Gazillionaire and the Virgin, have explicitly commented on the authenticity of the interactions between my hero and heroine. I’ve become far more conscious of the entire issue of dialogue, and more aware of my own weaknesses. In addition, I’ve come to understand the important roles dialogue can play in strengthening the story as a whole.

Dialogue can reveal and develop your characters.

Your readers learn a great deal about a character from what she says, as well as how she says it. Speech reveals education level, cultural background, and mood, in addition to shining light on the relationship between the partners in a conversation. What sort of vocabulary and sentence structure does the character use? What level of formality? How long are the typical sentences? Are there profanities expletives, emotional outbursts? Endearments? What about words and phrases like “maybe”, “in my opinion”, “you might not agree but” that indicate a power differential or a lack of confidence?

Here’s an example from “Fortune’s Fool”, by Robert Buckley (who is an absolute master of dialogue):

“Oh, Maleek, oh, can you do me a big favor, Oh, please, please, please …?”

“Tianna, baby, I’m on my break and I’ve done all the favors I’m doing for you for one week.”

She grabbed his meaty arm and nuzzled her delicate chin in the hollow of his massive biceps. “Oh, Maleek, honey, just this one favor?”

Damn, she’s good, I thought. Poor Maleek didn’t stand a chance.

“Ain’t no such thing as one favor with you, Tianna. Okay, what you want?”

“Take this guy up to CT scan for me so I can go see Terry Hanchuck.”

Maleek made a face and whined, “Oh, what you want to bother with that chump for?”

Tianna just smiled, her green eyes gleaming. Maleek just shrugged his shoulders, took hold of the gurney and guided it and its passenger onto the elevator as Tianna bolted away like a fawn.

Now Maleek was muttering under his breath.

“You hear anything about Hanchuck?” I asked him.

“Huh? Ah, well, sir, a friend told me his arm’s broken in four places. Looks like his career might be finished.”

“I guess he shouldn’t have disrespected Mr. Bubba Washington.”

Maleek’s face broadened into the widest smile I could imagine on a human. “Damn,” he said, “I thought I was the only one who thought like that in this town.”

“Serves the prick right,” I said. “Maybe he’ll have to get a real job now, like cleaning out pay toilets.”

Maleek’s smile became even broader and brighter. When we got to CT scan he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Be cool, man.”

After reading this snippet, I’ll bet you can tell me quite a bit about Tianna’s, Maleek’s and the narrator’s ethnicity, power relations, and personality. Tianna and Maleek are minor characters, but the effective dialogue brings them to life.

Dialogue can reveal history and advance the plot.

Novice authors have a tendency to write long passages of description or back story, which interfere with the forward motion of the narrative. Dialogue provides an effective alternative. Characters can mention past events as part of a conversation, seamlessly weaving back story into the current action. They can also comment on the environment or the appearance of another character, helping readers to visualize what’s going on in a more natural and integrated way.

Furthermore, speech is action. Conversations can generate or resolve conflicts, changing relationships or exposing secrets. Here’s an example from the story “El Pimientero”, by C. Sanchez-Garcia:

I picked up the pepper grinder and ran my finger over the black signature scrawled on the bottom. I am looking, I said to myself, with knowledge, at the autograph of a man who knows what she looks like naked. A man who has had his dick in her. A man who has fucked her. And then I knew who he was—who he really was.

“Doña , tell me about your first time.”

She began dropping pieces of okra into the oil. She stirred them with a fork.

“May I know?”

“I suppose.” She glanced at me sideways. “But only because it’s you. It’s between us.”

“How old were you?”

“Younger than you.”

“How did it happen?”

She watched the okra frying for a moment, then put down the fork. “In my father’s house.”

“Tell me please. What was it like?”

“We had a guest. He had been a friend of my father’s for many years. He was working in the movies, but he wasn’t famous then, not yet. But you knew he would be. His name was Gabriel.”

“He made love to you? How?”

“In the kitchen, just like this.”

“A kitchen?”

She put down the fork and leaned a little on the stove, looking me over, that wicked twinkle in her eyes. “You don’t think people fuck each other in the kitchen? The kitchen is a good place to fuck.”

The story of Doña Soledad’s first lover helps the reader to understand who she is and why she behaves as she does. It also foreshadows her encounter with the much younger narrator.

Dialogue can hook the reader.

I really admire authors who can write “snappy” dialogue—conversations that are more than realistic, conversations that make me laugh or yearn, that make me want to read more. Janet Evanovich, author of the Stephanie Plum mystery series, has this skill. I am seriously jealous.

Recently I hosted romance author Amy Armstrong at my blog. The excerpt she provided, from her paranormal novella A Hellhound in Hollywood, was so lively and funny that I went out and bought a copy of the book. I rarely do that. But she had me hooked. Here’s an example:

“You wouldn’t shoot me,” he said smugly, briefly glancing at the gun, his mouth twisting into a smirk. “And what’s more, you couldn’t.”

Now see? That pissed me off and I forgot about the instant attraction I felt toward him.

“Oh, I could,” I assured him. “And each time you open your mouth, it gets more and more likely that I will.”

He chuckled again, and this time, able to see the movement on his lips as well as hear the sound, produced an even stronger reaction in me. Arousal flooded my system. The masculinity that oozed out of him caused my pulse to accelerate and I was pretty sure my heart was trying

to beat its way out of my chest.

“You couldn’t,” he repeated. “You want to know why?”

I gritted my teeth. “Humor me.”

“Because the safety is on, and even if you did somehow get it off before I managed to get the gun out of your hand, you wouldn’t risk losing your job by shooting a fellow hunter.”

“A fellow…what?” I cocked my head to one side and lowered the gun a little. “You’re kidding me.”

I was usually great at sniffing out a lie, but I didn’t detect one.

That was a relief. For some strange reason, I didn’t want this beautiful man to turn out to be a liar. Arrogant jerk was bad enough.

A grin was his only reply—a really sexy grin—but I pretended not to notice it and continued to scowl at him.

“How do you know I’m a hunter?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Only hunters hang around in alleyways in the dead of night.”

“Right.”

“Or hookers,” he mused.

I was so furious that my glare, already frosty, must have turned glacial.

“Drug addicts or…”

“Okay, I get it. I get it. Good call.”

“Besides, you’re carrying a stake.”

I really wish I could write dialogue that could sell books with a single excerpt!

How can you write effective dialogue?

So here I am, five pages into this essay, and finally getting to the meat of my topic! I wish I could say I knew the secret to writing great conversations, like the ones I’ve quoted. However, all I can offer are some general recommendations, based on my own experience.

Listen to the way people really talk. Listen to people on the street, people on the radio, on TV and in the movies. Eavesdrop in coffee shops. Pay attention to the rhythm of real speech. Try to internalize it. I’ve found that my best dialogue comes when I “hear” my characters in my head and transcribe their conversations.

Allow your characters to pause and to interrupt one another. Real conversations are messy things. You don’t want to transcribe every “uh” and “um”, but used judiciously, this sort of expression can make your dialogue more realistic.

Avoid dialect, especially if it requires non-standard spellings or excessive contractions. To capture ethnicity, use word choice or word order. For instance, Bob Buckley’s excerpt suggests that Maleek is probably a black man without a lot of formal education, without using a single bit of dialect.

Use speech tags sparingly. The question of speech tags (“he said”, “she said”) is to some extent a matter of style. There are some cases where they’re essential, in order to clarify the identify of the speaker. A conversation where every utterance is attributed, though, starts to feel unnatural.

Use other actions to break up speech. All the examples I’ve cited do this, to a greater or lesser extent. Remember that people don’t usually just sit there talking. They do other things as they’re conversing, and frequently what they do, or the manner in which they do it, reveals additional details about the character’s state of mind.

On the other hand, composing dialogue-only flashers can be a great way to hone your skills in writing speech. Can you create a two-hundred word story that includes no speech tags, no action, nothing but quotations?

Personally, I’ve learned a lot from this type of exercise. Here’s a recent example—not exactly realistic, perhaps, but I think it clearly distinguishes between the characters, as well as explicating the plot!

Research

By Lisabet Sarai

“Miss Meriweather. Increase the gain by another order of magnitude. Ah—oh, by Newton’s apples!—”

“Is that too much, Professor? Shall I dial it back?”

“No, no, we must continue. Another notch, please.”

“But your face is scarlet, sir. And your member—Oh, God, are those sparks?”

“To be expected when experimenting with electrical forces, Miss Meriweather. Adjust the rheostat as I’ve instructed. Argh—that’s good, excellent…Oh! More. More…!”

“Sir, the boiler will blow. The needle’s halfway into the red zone already.”

“We need more power—more steam—oh, incredible! Amazing! We shall be the first to chronicle the detailed response of the male organ to various levels of electrical stimulation—oh, by Aristotle, turn it up, girl! Don’t stop now!”

“I smell burning. And you’re drenched with sweat.”

“All—all the better—ah! Enhances conductivity—what? What are you doing?“

“Protecting you from excessive scientific curiosity. I don’t want you hurt.”

“But—I was so close to a breakthrough… Unstrap me immediately, Miss Meriweather. If you won’t assist me, I’ll have to man the controls myself.”

“Sorry, Professor. I can’t do that.”

“You disobedient little hussy! And where—oh, by Pythagoras, you’re not wearing knickers!”

“Before you research artificial sexual stimulation, sir, shouldn’t you investigate the real thing?”

 Until next month…!

The Post That Wasn’t

by | May 21, 2013 | | 0 Comments

By Lisabet Sarai

Okay, so I was supposed to post today, not a week ago as I did, stomping on poor Garce’s post. These things happen. I was trying to get the post pre-scheduled, you know, getting on top of my To-Do List … Anyway, if you haven’t read that post, entitled Stories We Tell Ourselves, I invite you to do so.

Meanwhile, today’s my official posting day and of course I can’t keep quiet…!

I just want to remind all readers that if you enjoy the discussions on this blog, you might want to join the ERWA email discussion lists. On the Writers list, we share our thoughts and information about all sorts of writing-related topics. Recent threads have included: self-editing – when to stop; reality versus fantasy in the portrayal of BDSM; how to write convincing dialogue; first versus third person POV; how to motivate yourself to finish what you start.

The Storytime list is our on-line critique group. Members post works in progress as well as comments and suggestions on other authors’ submissions. It’s very civil and strongly moderated – even the tenderest ego will not be shattered, yet at the same time you can get some fabulous insights into how to improve your writing. As an added benefit, our esteemed editors select the best stories, flashers and poems each month and invite the authors to publish them in the ERWA Gallery.

The Parlor list is just for fun – chit-chat with other ERWA members about anything under the sun. (However, posts do tend to stray toward sexual topics pretty frequently!)

To join any or all of these lists, follow the instructions here.

Let me finish up by posting one of my own favorite flashers – from the old days when flashers were strictly 100 words. I especially like it because it’s about writing.


Groupie
By Lisabet Sarai
Copyright 2001

“I like your poems,” she said, leaning closer across the cafe table, so that he could see the shadowed hollow between her breasts where the candlelight did not reach. “I like your images. I can taste them, roll them around on my tongue. They catch in my throat like unshed tears.”

He sipped his chianti, adjusted his glasses, pretended to ignore her stealthy hand on his thigh. Her fingers crept over his chinos, aiming for the swelling at his root. He thought of rejection slips, the dirty laundry scattered round his flat, the bills waiting to be paid. Useless. None of these mundane devices could prevail against her blonde adoration.

He stood like iron. Her triumphant hand claimed him. “I like the way  you can write ‘fuck’,” she said, “and make it into a poem.”

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