Six Questions to Improve Dialogue
How do your
characters feel about…
WHO
they are with?
Two people are talking about abstract art:
“It’s
red.”
“Yeah.”
“Just
red.”
“That’s
the point.”
“Well, I
assumed. He wanted to be lazy and get credit for it, and he did it.”
“That is
absolutely not the point. It’s about making you look at red in a new way. To
see it for what it is. To have a new perspective on it without it being
influenced by comparison to other colors.”
“Okay.
Fine. He succeeded at that too. I am definitely not influenced.”
“You
just don’t get it.”
“I
really don’t.
Or:
“It’s
red.”
“Exactly.
See, he did that deliberately. He wanted to show you the color red without
it being compared to anything else.”
“Are you
sure you’re not giving him too much credit?”
“Looking
at art is more enjoyable if you try to trust it.”
“I don’t
know. I just don’t get it.”
“It’s
not for everyone.”
Or:
“It’s
red.”
“You’re
red.”
“Why
paint something just red?”
“Because
it helps you see red in a new way.”
“Like
anger?”
“You’re anger.”
“I don’t
get it.”
“Enough
to see red?”
“I will
smack you.”
In real life, how we phrase our sentences is highly
dependent on who we’re talking to. It should be easy to read, even out of
context, how long a character has known someone, how well, and his opinion
about that person.
In the first example, the second speaker has no respect
for his friend. In the second example, he does, and is just trying to explain
his ideas without being rude.
In the third, he argues with his friend just as much as
he did in the first, but there’s affinity for his companion. It’s no longer
about proving the philistine wrong, but expressing disagreement to someone he
likes.
All three convey the same content, but it tells a
different story about their relationship.
And, not only does understanding their mood help the
author develop the characters and their connection, without that sense of respect
and amiability, dialogue comes off as flat.
Even when there is no relationship, a character has an
opinion on the person she’s talking to. Does she look down on waiters?
Empathize with them? Is she angry at them for her food being late? Is she
pleased at the waitress’s jovial attitude?
The lack of an opinion or feelings towards another human
being is a strong choice, not a
neutral one. If a character barely recognizes a waiter’s existence—the waiter
is wallpaper only there to serve, dehumanized—it says something about that
character. Also, sometimes a character might be too distracted to even see the
person before them, too focused on herself to be worried about what the other
character is thinking. This are great choices that will affect how the dialogue
is conveyed, but they are impactful ones. When an author unintentionally writes
a character who speaks in perfunctory and objective ways, it will create
insincere dialogue.
And how does he think they
feel about him?
“It’s
red.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t
get me wrong. I just don’t understand why.”
“What do
you mean why? It’s an illustration of a common entity—the color red—giving you
a new perspective on how you see it outside its normal context. Basic art
move.”
“Alright.”
“It’s
not complicated. Not even original really.”
“Okay.”
“I mean,
painting something like that takes a lot of time and dedication…”
“Okay.”
“But the
concept is pretty simple.”
Prior, the characters were on the same footing. The
original example, there was a mutual disrespect, but in this one the naysayer
is less confident. He cares what the other person thinks and is struggling to
voice his opinion without earning judgment.
How do your
characters feel about…
WHAT
they are talking about?
“He left
eight minutes after three. We should have an hour to sneak in there, get the book
and get out.”
“Where
did he go?”
“I don’t
know. Skipping around some fancy-pants art gallery. Examining trouble souls and
past partying through their post-morning sick. He needs to give it a good
amount of time to convince people he really cares, so we have a while.”
“The
presentation at the Calvin Steins Institute was actually pretty nice.”
“Just
come on.”
Again, we could
stick to the point:
“Where
did he go?”
“I’m not
sure. He’s a society guy, so probably a party? We should have some time.”
But coloring our words with opinions are more interesting
and informative than conveying information.
“So the
guy tries to tell me that it’s a symbol of how we perceive everyday day things,
and I’m like, ‘Are you kidding me?’”
“Can I
help you, sir?”
“One
coffee. Black. Small.”
“For 25
cents more you can get a medium.”
“Small
is fine. Anyway, I go along with it, nodding for a while, tuning him out before
I said, ‘Fine. I’m still not paying 10,000 dollars for it.”
“So the
guy tries to tell me that it’s a symbol of how we perceive everyday day things,
and I’m like… Hold on a moment.”
“Can I
help you?”
“Yes. I
guess I’ll have… Just a small black coffee is fine.”
“For 25
cents more you can get a medium.”
“Sure.
That sounds great. Anyway, I go along with it, nodding for a while, tuning him
out before I say, “I can’t pay 10,000 dollars for it.”
In the first the person has done this before, knows
exactly what he wants, and has a very firm opinion on coffee, the second does
not. How he orders his coffee—and how firmly he sticks to his gumption—changes
his reputation to the audience. The first guy is no nonsense, the second is
more casual, less firm, less bossy. It’s an inane subject, but can convey two
totally different personalities.
How do your
characters feel about…
WHERE
they are?
Has he been here before? Has
he taken possession of the place? Does he like being there? Is he comfortable
there?
A character believes she’s alone
in her bar, cleaning up, when she finds one stranger standing there, staring at
her.
A character believes she’s
alone in the post office when she finds a stranger standing there, staring at her.
A character believes she’s
alone in her living room when she finds a stranger standing there, staring at
her.
What are the first words out
of her mouth?
If it’s in her bar, she
probably won’t ask, “Who are you?” or “What do you want?” She’s most likely to
conceal her fear and jump to a rational conclusion—he is a left over patron who
she missed somehow.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. We’re
closed.”
In the post office, she might
swallow her fear and even say, “Hi,” as she passes.
In her bedroom, of course, she
might skip the words and go straight to a scream.
It also applies in more subtle
situations. Being in a large hall with an expansive table as the characters
discuss what to do about the oncoming battle will encourage calm, logical, and
formal discussion. Take the same people sitting around a campsite after a hard
day, and they’ll use very different words to explain the same thing.
The less extreme the setting
of the scene, the more important it is to consider the details. We don’t always
consider how the room makes them feel, forgetting things like chill or the
hardness of chairs, but just being aware of the small discomforts—or their
opposites—can greatly enhance the nuance of language.
WHEN did he come up with what he was saying?
The words we choose are based
around how long we’ve been planning them. A guy who has been trying to say, “I love
you” for six years is going to have a very different method than someone who
realized it then blurted it out.
It looks like it wouldn’t be
important in most circumstances—Who cares when he decided he was going to order
a cup of coffee?—but the devil’s in the details makes this sort of choice change
the generic to natural with a little effort. Having characters who vary with
their pre-planning is interesting and easy to express. When a story presents
each person walking in and knowing exactly what they want immediately, and
saying they want it right when they think of it, it looks fake. When, however,
the protagonist is the only one among many who can make snap decisions, all
others waiting until the last minute to know what they’re going to do/order, it
becomes a personality choice. Also, because it is typical for authors to make
the “incubation” time of a thought the same, breaking that, having him
sometimes jump to conclusions or mull it over, will lead to creative choices
the writer might not have thought of before.
And, on that same note, when
does he think his conversational companion came up with what she was saying?
Does Mistress Starbucks say
“Have a nice day,” to everyone, a preplanned response to all customers? Or is
it individual to him and spontaneous? Individual to him and planned? It might
be, “Have a nice day, sir,” she said,
turning abruptly to rinse out the sink, or, “Have nice day! See you tomorrow!” or She held back the cup, holding him there an instant before releasing.
The barista smiled shyly at him, “Have a nice day, sir.” While these might
not all be options in context, each adds more information other than he got a
cup of coffee. We might know the coffee shop or the city is unfriendly or
hurried, maybe that he’s attractive and gets hit on a lot. Some options might
not be options at all, but it wouldn’t hurt to know they exist, which is what
asking when each character came up with a thought does.
WHY is he saying it?
So, most of us have heard the
words “super-objective” and “motivation,” but for those of you who are lucky
enough to work outside of the loop, these are literary terms that refer to the
characters’ goals.
Why a character does what he
does and says are what create the underlying message of who he is. All actions
are motivated and all of them should be, yet those reasons are rarely ever outright stated.
It doesn’t make sense for a character to do something he doesn’t see a benefit
from. Even if it’s trivial or vague and not likely to happen, even we don’t
believe that it will happen, there is
something propelling us to make each decision: I sit down because I believe it
will feel better than standing up.
More importantly, because this
is true for real life, the writer has certain motivations in making the choices
he did (whether he is aware of it or not), and it is up to the motivation of
the character to conceal the meta-thinking of the writer. We want the reader to believe, “Man, the villain
is an ass,” not, “Man, the author wants us to think the villain is an ass.” We
do this by motivating the villain’s actions, rather just saying, “An evil guy
does an evil thing to look evil to the readers.”
A person’s motivation is the
primary factor in their tone of voice, their timing, and the words they use.
Their tactic is based around what they hope to achieve.
For instance, if Julia finds
out that her boyfriend cheated on her, and she wants to punish him, she might
break up with him in the loudest, most public way possible, starting by
shouting, “So you like whores do you?” as he sits in a bar with his friends.
However, if she was filled
with doubt and wanted to find the truth, she might do it privately and start
nonchalantly, “I ran into Chelsea today.”
Her motivation may lead to her
not confronting him at all. Instead of having a conversation, she packs up her
things and leaves, just wishing to be done with it. What good would talking
about it do if she just wanted the relationship to be over?
When the author wants to do
something, especially deliver information, the dialogue can come out just like
that: the characters sound like they’re trying to tell the reader something,
not like they’re talking.
So we motivate them by asking,
“What do they have to gain from saying this to the person they’re saying it to?”
If an author wants to convey
that this couple is blissful, and he does so by having the man tells his
girlfriend of six years that he loves her so the audience knows he loves her,
it might read false. If, however, the author has the man tell his girlfriend he
loves her because he feels like the happiness will explode if he doesn’t get it
out the writing is more likely to naturally come out as real.
And lastly…
HOW does he think it is going
to turn out?
This is different than why he
is saying it. The first one is about what he hopes will happen, this second one is about what he thinks will happen. Again, his tactics
will change based on success level. If he knows she loves him back, he’s going
to be more straightforward and take more risks admitting he loves her. If he
thinks she’s probably going to slap him, he’s more likely to keep a distance,
stammer, or do it quickly. He still says it because the possible benefits of
having her love outweigh the possible, more likely consequences. It is worth it
to get slapped on the off chance she might love him back.
This also defines character. A
man might not tell a girl who he’s pretty sure loves him back because if, on
the slight chance she doesn’t, it would ruin their friendship. But another man
might think that having her love is worth risking the friendship. How we
prioritize possibilities and likelihood varies based on who we are.
His perceived success rate will alter his
tactics and his response to her response. And his response to her response is
exactly what a dialogue is.
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