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by Gloria Kempton (mobi)

  "Of course he can swim, you little idiot!" Tim shouted at her. On the shore, the tyrannosaur stepped off the dock and plunged into the water. It moved strongly into the lagoon after them.

  "Well, how should I know?" she said.

  "Everybody knows tyrannosaurs can swim! It's in all the books! Anyway, all reptiles can swim!"

  "Snakes can't."

  "Of course snakes can. You idiot!"

  Crichton uses this kind of breathless dialogue throughout the novel. If it lets up, it's never for long. I personally believe the dialogue to be one of the reasons for the story's success. These are real folks in real trouble—over and over again. Readers of suspense thrillers and action/adventures demand this kind of tension, so if you're going to write for these readers, you have to be able to give it to them.

  When we are facing a difficult situation and have no clue as to the outcome, our breath can become short and shallow as fear, anger, or sadness increases, thus the term breathless dialogue. The key to writing effective breathless dialogue is to:

  • cut away most of the description and explanatory narrative so the scene is mostly dialogue

  • insert bits of action, as Crichton does in the above passage, so the

  scene keeps moving forward in a physical way, but not so much that we lose track of the character's speech

  • use short spurts of emotional phrases of dialogue rather than long speeches or contemplative verbal pondering

  • make clear what's at stake for the reader as he's expressing himself

  • hold back just enough information in the dialogue so the suspense is sustained throughout the scene

  Is this you? Does this kind of dialogue come easy for you? All dialogue in all fiction, whether short stories or novels, needs a degree of tension and suspense, but for the suspense thriller and the action/adventure, it's at the core.

  provocative

  The Nashville Tennessean wrote of Wally Lamb's She's Come Undone: "Wally Lamb can lie down with the literary lions at will: he's that gifted.. .This novel does what good fiction should do—it informs our hearts as well as our minds of the complexities involved in the 'simple' act of living a human life."

  This is actually a very accurate definition of the mainstream and literary story. Lamb's novel is full of pages of dialogue that's about something. Not all of the dialogue, of course, in a mainstream or literary story needs to be about something, but a good portion of it does. This is because, unlike most genre stories, which are plot-driven, mainstream and literary stories are character-driven and about something.

  As we learned earlier in this chapter, readers of this kind of story want to be challenged in their thinking, provoked to consider other ways of looking at something, and shaken up in their belief systems. They're asking for this when they pick up this kind of story to read.

  For a story to be about something, it must be driven by some kind of universal truth, as you'll see in the following excerpt from Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. The universal truth in this novel is that "all men are created equal," and it shows up on just about every page.

  Not all writers want to work that hard at writing, to make sure that every line of the story contributes to a larger theme and the story communicates a larger truth of some kind. But some do, and if this is you, you want to make sure much of your viewpoint character's dialogue provokes the reader as much as it does the other characters in a way that could ultimately

  be transforming. The characters in this kind of story are thinking about something bigger than themselves. They're talking to each other about these bigger things, wondering out loud in dialogue.

  Harper Lee challenges the reader on two levels in the following passage from To Kill a Mockingbird—racism and injustice—and she does it very effectively through dialogue. Here Atticus Finch is giving his final argument in the case of Robinson vs. Ewell:

  "She has committed no crime, she has merely broken a rigid and time-honored code of our society, a code so severe that whoever breaks it is hounded from our midst as unfit to live with. She is the victim of cruel poverty and ignorance, but I cannot pity her: she is white. She knew full well the enormity of her offense, but because her desires were stronger than the code she was breaking, she persisted in breaking it. She persisted, and her subsequent reaction is something that all of us have known at one time or another. She did something every child has done—she tried to put the evidence of her offense away from her. But in this case she was not a child hiding stolen contraband: she struck out at her victim — of necessity she must put him away from her—he must be removed from her presence, from this world. She must destroy the evidence of her offense.

  "What was the evidence of her offense? Tom Robinson, a human being. She must put Tom Robinson away from her. Tom Robinson was her daily reminder of what she did. What did she do? She tempted a Negro."

  Atticus goes on for some time in this vein and concludes his argument:

  ".But there is one way in this country in which all men are created equal— there is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of a Rockefeller, the stupid man the equal of an Einstein, and the ignorant man the equal of any college president. That institution, gentlemen, is a court. It can be the Supreme Court of the United States or the humblest J.P. court in the land, or this honorable court which you serve. Our courts have their faults, as does any human institution, but in this country our courts are the great levelers, and in our courts all men are created equal."

  Often, dialogue in the mainstream and literary story will communicate the theme. Atticus is speaking the larger truth of the story to the other characters and to the reader. There is no way we can read this passage and not think about something that is bigger than our daily lives. Provocative story

  dialogue sometimes makes us squirm, definitely stirs up our gray matter, and often shocks and startles us out of our comfort zones. If you're a mainstream or literary writer, you want to write the kind of dialogue that does this and more.

  uncensored

  The uncensored dialogue in the young adult story is definitely that of the young person, but that doesn't at all mean that it's full of hip-hop words, slang, and weird phrases. I call it uncensored simply because, while adults most often censor themselves when they speak, teenagers haven't yet learned that skill so their dialogue is more raw, edgy, and honest. The reader of the young adult story expects realism, so keep in mind that your teen characters will not be cleaning up their words before they speak them as so many adults do. What's important about the dialogue in the young adult story, just like in any other story, is that it's authentic. Authenticity isn't more important in this story than in any other; it's just that we have to watch our tendency to create characters that all sound like they just stepped off the planet Way Cool—which isn't any more authentic than if we didn't give them a teen voice at all. This kind of over-the-top teen speak sounds no more real than if we weren't to use any slang. Ann Brashares does a good job of writing uncensored dialogue in her young adult novel The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Following is an example from this novel of two teens in conversation, Effie and Lena, neither of whom is from the planet Way Cool, but the dialogue might make some adults roll their eyes, which is what you're after. In this conversation, Effie is trying to get Lena to admit that she's in love with a certain boy. Listen:

  "You are in love with Kostos," Effie accused.

  "No, I'm not." If Lena hadn't known she was in love with Kostos before, she did now. Because she knew what a lie felt like.

  "You are too. And the sad thing is, you are too much of a chicken to do anything about it but mope."

  Lena sank into her covers again. As usual, Effie had summed up her complex, anguished mental state in one sentence.

  "Just admit it," Effie pressed.

  Lena wouldn't. She crossed her arms stubbornly over her pajama top.

  "Okay, don't," Effie said. "I know it's true anyway."

  "Well, you're wrong," Lena snapp
ed babyishly.

  Effie sat down on the bed. Her face was serious now. "Lena, listen to me, okay? We don't have much more time here. You are in love. I've never seen anything like this before. You have to be brave, okay? You have to go and tell Kostos how you feel. I swear to God if you don't, you will regret it for the rest of your cowardly life."

  Lena knew this was all true. Effie had hit the mark so blatantly, Lena didn't even bother refuting it. "But, Ef," she said, her voice belying her raw agony, "what if he doesn't like me back?"

  Effie considered this. Lena waited, expecting, hoping for reassurance. She wanted Effie to say that of course Kostos liked her back. How could he not? But Effie didn't say that.

  Instead she took Lena's hand in hers. "That's what I mean about being brave."

  Why does this dialogue work and why would we call it uncensored? Because teens just say what's on their minds. As many times as I've been "in love" in my adult life, when the issue of expressing that to the other person comes up, I have never, would never, say right out loud to a friend, "What if he doesn't like me back?" I might think it. I might feel it. But I'd never be so bold to say it to anyone. I barely want to admit it to myself. And teens are always calling each other out on their "stuff," while adults do their best to be nice. "You are too much of a chicken to do anything about it but mope." When's the last time you called a friend out on her stuff? Writing uncen-sored dialogue can be freeing. We can just write what comes into these characters' minds because most often they blurt out what's in their minds. To write uncensored dialogue is to write the truth, and for the writer, that feels good. You can just relax and write.

  Writing category-specific dialogue is not quite this cut and dried. On occasion, the different types of dialogue overlap and cross over from genre to genre. A character in a horror story, for example, may suddenly use descriptive language as he reveals something about another character. In Anne Rice's novels you find both shadowy and descriptive dialogue, and possibly provocative, because she writes mainstream horror. So, just like anything else, we can't and shouldn't try to make our dialogue fit rigid formulas. But I can't overestimate the importance of understanding why your reader might pick up your novel in the first place—because she wants a fast and suspenseful read or a contemplative and thought-provoking story. Delivering dialogue that meets this need is your constant challenge.

  Your story's genre will, of course, determine the kind of dialogue you write. This should be one of the first decisions you make after beginning to develop your story idea. You don't want to get too far into the story writing the wrong kind of dialogue for the pace or the characters that have already been determined by the genre.

  In the next chapter, we'll look at how to use dialogue to keep the story moving forward so the reader is compelled to turn the pages faster and faster.

  Magical. Choose your genre—romance, science fiction, or fantasy—and put two characters, male and female, in a garden. If you've never written a love scene before, hang onto your hat. Well, not too tightly. If it wants to blow away on the magical breezes of your garden scene, let it. Now, we know that a lot of couples don't talk to each other while making love, but your characters do. They say the most amazing words to each other, amazing even to them. Write three pages (or as many as you can stand) of magical dialogue, words you wish you had the courage to say to your own lover or would like him or her to say back to you. The goal is to be authentic, so no corny lines allowed. Remember how magical dialogue feels and sounds in our examples: It's dramatic, formal, eloquent, direct, detailed, metaphorical, and emotional.

  Cryptic. A group of characters—four or five individuals in the same family—are discussing another family member who's not present. Someone from outside the family has accused this person of sexual abuse. There is a bigger issue here for the viewpoint character. You decide what it is, and then write five pages of a cryptic dialogue scene that doesn't ever come right out and say what it is they're discussing. You can use metaphors, similes, and hyperbole. They talk about the bigger issue, they talk about their love for their family member, but they don't ever really say what he's been accused of and what it means for the family. Keep in mind that cryptic dialogue is indirect, subtle, and ambiguous; it has more than one meaning.

  Descriptive. Two female characters, one a real estate agent and one who's selling her home, are walking through the older Victorian home that the second character wants to sell. They're discussing what will make the house appealing to buyers and what needs a little work. The real estate agent unknowingly keeps insulting the seller, and the tension between them is growing. Choose either of the two women for your viewpoint character and write three pages of tense descriptive dialogue that focuses on bringing out certain details of the property and home. (If you're not familiar with Victorian homes and don't want to do the research, choose another kind of home.) For this scenario, write your descriptive dialogue with a lot of setting and background details woven into the characters' words so the reader gets a sense of place.

  Provocative. Two characters, one male and one female, have just finished a game of golf and are making their way to the club for a drink. Both high school teachers, they're dis

  Shadowy. Two characters, a father and son, are sleeping in the backyard in a tent when suddenly the father feels an unnatural presence, something he's felt before, more than once, but always when he's been alone. He knows he has to protect his son. Write two pages of shadowy dialogue between this character and his son as the presence becomes more real and darker with every moment that passes. Remember that the emphasis is on the tone in this kind of dialogue. There needs to be an ever-present threat in the dialogue, something the father or son or both can feel but don't know whether or not is real.

  Breathless. One character, a female, is calling 911 to report someone breaking into her house. Write two pages of breathless dialogue from this character's viewpoint and make sure we hear both sides of the conversation as well as this character's thoughts as the action and suspense accelerates. What you want to emphasize in this kind of dialogue is the pace and the emotion, whether it's fear, anger, or sadness. Let the short bursts of dialogue carry the scene.

  cussing the sexual behaviors of young people today. They've overheard some of the chat between both male and female students and the female teacher, especially, is troubled by the cavalier attitude she's observed in her students. The male teacher is less troubled with more of a boy-will-be-boys-and-girls-like-it kind of attitude. Write a three-page scene of provocative dialogue that challenges both characters and the reader. In this type of dialogue, what's important are the words themselves. This is where the story's message, the theme, what the story is about comes through.

  Uncensored. Three girls are walking home from school chatting about boys, and two of them suddenly realize they have their eyes on the same boy. They each have stories about his singling them out with some attention, too. The tension starts to mount as each becomes threatened by the other. Use one girl's viewpoint and write three pages of uncensored dialogue, revealing her increasing anxiety. Remember—what you're after in uncensored dialogue is the truth. Let each girl speak from her gut, not her head, because in her gut is where her emotions are, and we all know how close to her emotions the teenage girl is.

  [ wheels of motion-dialogue that propels the story forward ]

  I sighed and put the novel manuscript down. How could this fiction writer really think she was engaging the reader? The two characters were simply sitting at the breakfast table, chatting about their daily to-do lists while eating bowls of cereal. The viewpoint character was crunching her corn flakes and staring out into the field behind her house while saying such profound things as, "I wonder if we should take Ginger in for her distemper shot," and "Do you think Law &Order will be a rerun tonight?" Crunch, crunch. How did I nicely tell this writer that her dialogue needed a bit of help?

  I decided to ask the students in my weekly novel class what would make this dialogue spark.


  "Well, if while the lady is staring into the backyard, a spaceship lands," one student suggested.

  "If the lady is rambling on and on about nothing and the husband calmly tells her he's having an affair or wants a divorce or is a cross-dresser. She keeps talking and doesn't even hear him."

  "If the lady is talking, taking the day for granted, and doesn't notice that her husband's face is in his breakfast cereal. He's just died of a heart attack."

  These were pretty good ideas. I was proud of my class. They understood that dialogue should be about something. The dialogue needs to move the plot forward in some way or it's useless.

  As a writing coach, I see pointless and useless dialogue all the time. It feels harsh to continually point it out, and writers don't always understand why their dialogue doesn't work, but unless it connects to the theme and plot and includes tension and suspense while moving the story forward (a tall order), why bother? Why write a story at all?

  dialogue that moves

  Writing a story that stands still will risk your reputation as a writer of artistic fiction. I can't overemphasize the importance of making sure your dialogue moves the plot forward. Dialogue is only a means to an end—it's not the end itself. Dialogue, in and of itself, is simply a fiction element, a tool to be used to move the story forward. That means engaging your characters in conflict and using dialogue to increase their struggle.

  As you will see in the examples in this chapter, your characters' struggles are revealed through both your theme and your plot. The first is internal and the second is external. Writers in my classes will often say to me, "Why do I have to have a theme? Can't I just write a nice little story?" Sometimes they even ask that question about plot. "Plot? Why do we need a plot?"

  Woe be it unto me to try to convince you that stories need both a theme and a plot. Sure, you can just skip these two elements of fiction—if you want to write stories for yourself, that is. I could be wrong, but I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that if you're reading this book, you most likely are thinking aboutsubmitting your short stories and novels for publication at some point. If that's true, then you need both a theme and a plot in your stories.