Writing Really Good Dialogue

(When I was first asked to write an article on this topic, I was blown away. This meant that somebody out there in the world must think that I write good dialogue. Somebody is asking me for advice on writing ‘really good dialogue’. I was over the moon. Then, as I began to analyze my methods, I realized I didn’t have any methods. I came to the conclusion while writing the article below that I may just be a savant. But, then, I feel that may be giving myself too much credit. Maybe I just get lucky? Maybe it was an accident that I ever wrote good dialogue? Maybe, they just wanted me to feel good? Maybe the author they originally had booked to write the article was crushed in an ugly double-decker bus accident? Maybe…

Writing Really Good Dialogue

(This article originally appeared in the Sept/Oct issue of the WCDR Word Weaver. Past issues can be found here. Most recent issues are available to WCDR members only.)

I was flattered to be asked to address the topic of writing great dialogue. Then I tried to tackle it. How does one write dialogue? It’s the one aspect of writing I feel I’m good at. My confidence level as a writer is low, but I feel confident with the dialogue I create. But to explain how to write great dialogue seemed way too daunting a task!

So I Googled it. None of the online articles had anything to do with my approach. They said, writing good dialogue is hard work; a great read is a hard write; it’s incredibly difficult to write good dialogue; you must know your characters before you can create great dialogue.

Bullsh*t, I say. For me, I must stop thinking before I can write great dialogue. Just write. Thinking gets in the way of dialogue. After I read a few articles and realized I couldn’t relate, I almost gave up. I don’t know my characters. Sometimes I can’t even remember their names after writing an entire novel with them. But I do know this: what I know about my characters I did not find out before I wrote their dialogue. To me, that notion is just ludicrous. I discover my characters as the dialogue comes out of them. The dialogue forms the character, not the other way around. Their words give me a true picture of who they are.

To write great dialogue, you can’t write what you hear on the street. People are staccato in conversation. They prattle on and change topics and say so much that does not pertain to the task at hand. In fiction you can’t do this. Every word must count. Dialogue has to be written MUCH better than real life conversation. It has to focus on the story and stay within its parameters. Great dialogue would probably NOT happen in real life, but done right and the reader will swear it sounds like real-life conversation. Like the rest of the fictional landscape, dialogue has to be larger than life. It’s a conundrum, really. Write dialogue too authentic and you’ve blown it, write it too stilted and unauthentic and you’ve blown it.

A writer needs to create individual personalities through dialogue and keep their characters on task while doing so. Characters will shape themselves and the story through their words. But knowing what they need to say to keep the story moving is only half the work. How they say things is important to the reader’s ear. This is why I read all my dialogue out loud by itself. I remove tags and the surrounding prose and then I have a conversation with myself to listen to HOW my characters are saying what they’re saying. And I speak the dialogue fast, so I can see where contractions would come into it in real life conversation. We’re a lazy bunch, us talkers. The use of contractions alone will go a long way in making your dialogue appear authentic.

As I sat down to write this, I discovered I might be a bit of an automaton when it comes to writing dialogue. Then I realized you NEED to be an automaton, to just write dialogue without thinking about it. Most people these days just open their mouths and speak. I’m not saying this is right, but it is the way it’s done. So when you’re in the grip of story, become your characters. Get inside their heads and spit out the first words that come into their mouths. That’s probably what they would say, and that’s also what would make them each unique. Stop thinking and start speaking.

Don’t Forget to Talk to the Animals!

Dear Writer,

Don’t let people tell you that the MUSE is a tiny creature with wings and a golden wand who will come land on your shoulder and whisper sweet-plottings into your ear.

The muse is inside you. You are the muse you seek. Millions of thoughts race by within the human mind every minute. The writer has the unique ability to reach inside that chaotic slipstream and pull out the not-quite-shiny diamond among the cosmic dust. They cuddle that diamond, mold it, smash it, crush it, stretch it and eat it. That diamond may be a snatch of dialogue, an odd little character glimpsed out of the corner of their eye, a random thought that makes them shiver with delight…or anything else that travels through their brain shouting for attention. The muse is you. It’s those thoughts and your special ability to pluck the right ones and haul them off to the drafting table of your imagination.

If you wait for a scantily clad Roman Goddess to come walking into your life and deliver unto you the wild wanderings of a poem-spark or novel-idea…you’ll wait forever, my friend. There ain’t no muse. Sit with yourself and think. Or, better yet, DON’T THINK. Become a being sitting, not thinking. Yes…I know. It’s very Zen and crazy to consider this. But the milk of an idea comes not when we’re concentrating…grasping and begging for it to come. The diamonds that must be rubbed to a shine are the ideas that come to us when we are busy doing other things. Our muse (remember…we are the muse!) picks the oddest moments in our workaday lives to drop brilliance into that aforementioned slipstream of human thought. Your job isn’t to CONCENTRATE on the flow and grab at the diamond…your job is to be the sitter. Your job is to jump up and scream, “OOH! SHINY!” As your own muse, you are only gifted in the silence. You only ‘listen’ when you are the quiet amidst the chaos.

When do I find the muse inside myself?

I ALWAYS talk with the animals. And they always lead me to that place where we become the flow…where we can see the sparkle of ideas and know instinctively which ones will take us places. When you allow yourself to talk to animals, anything is possible. Again…it may sound crazy. But I gave up worrying what other people think a long time ago. When I found myself returning to writing in 2003, after an extremely lengthy absence from it, I decided I would not THINK about writing. I would just DO writing. And I would take my dog for walks and discuss my writing with her. She listens. Or, rather, she allows me to listen. Talking to her is a bit like escaping reality. And when one escapes reality, their senses are more preternatural. They ‘see’ more. They ‘hear’ more. When I talk to the animals, I’m not THINKING. I’m not struggling, “What should I write about???!!!” I’m just being the me that can watch the chaos of ideas slip through my mind. I can ignore them and laugh at them and push the bad ones away. Some sort of net (we’ll call the net THE MUSE) seems to strap itself down and stretch itself across the shores of this slipstream when I’m not looking. It catches all the glittery diamonds that would otherwise sneak past. When I’m walking through the woods discussing things with my dog–not thinking about things–this net does the work for me.

What is this rambling post about? I knew you would ask me this. It’s about unplugging. Writers too often try desperately to find topics to write about. They struggle with not knowing their true desires, their true sparks, their true muse. All you have to do is shut up and listen. You have to completely unplug. My form of unplugging is talking to the animals. Yes…I do talk to more than just my dog. When you’re talking to your dog, other dogs listen. Pretty soon, you’re the pied piper of the dog park. And this makes my muse extremely happy. My muse reaps what I sow. He puts himself into action the moment I unplug.

Find the thing that makes you silent. Find the thing that makes the chaotic mix of ideas swirling around in your head take a pause. You are your muse. You are the only person who can stop that chaos long enough to pull away the shiny diamonds. The pleasure is in the polishing of those diamonds–the process of writing your story after you find that diamond. But you can’t wait for an outside source to bring you your kernels. You need to do it yourself. You need to accept that you–and you alone–are your muse.

Franny – Who is NOT my Muse

Don’t forget to talk to the animals! They always send me in the right direction.