If we return to the notion of "said" and how much is too much, it should be noted that burying dialogue tags is a way to make "said's" less obtrusive and repetitious. When done right, a dialogue does not need to rely upon changing "said" to "responded" or "screamed" or "whispered." These variations call attention to themselves, and to the writer, rather than the scene. Using "said" keeps the reader focused on the character's words rather than the writer's cleverness. My advice is to stick to "said" until you get the tone and movement right.
VARIATION: ALTERNATIVES TO "SHE SAID" OR "HE SAID"
In my first stories, I made a rule for myself: I would only use the word "said" once within a given dialogue. I figured that in a longish short
story, of, say, 25 pages, there might be five to seven sizable dialogues. That meant I only had to "repeat" the word "said" five or six times. Like all rules about writing, it was something to learn from and then, when the time was right, abandon.
Following my rule meant that I would have to vary the words I used in dialogue tags. Consider this snake-in-the-box dialogue again, this time as an example of the rule I set up. I use the word "said" in the first dialogue tag. Look for the moments where it works when I back away from the "said's." You'll notice too that now I've started to apply some of my own watchwords in other ways, burying dialogue tags and insinuating action into the dialogue, revealing the physical scene where possible. These techniques, in variation, allowed the pattern of my dialogues to shift and grow.
'You're red," Jeanine said when I walked in the apartment, my arms slung around the huge box marked FRAGILE: EGGS.
"A snake," I huffed. "I bought a snake." The huge box shifted in my arms.
'You bought a snake?" she sneered, turning a page in her magazine. 'You bought a snake." Now she was saying it just to hear herself.
"From Andy ...," I paused. The bottom of the box was wet My new snake. "I bought the snake from Andy."
"Oh my God!" Jeanine shouted. "It's in the box! You brought a snake in here!" She was screaming now, rising from the couch, arming herself by rolling the magazine.
I turned from her. "No, no."
"It's in the box," she snarled. "I know it." She swiped with the magazine, herding me out toward the sunshine.
"Wait, wait," I cringed. The snake slid forward in the box. "Just a second," I shouted.
"Get it out!" she screamed.
The bottom of the box sagged, and I grabbed for it. "Don't hit me!" I shouted. "Don't!"
'You can't do this," she hissed. "Not in my house."
At that point, the box tore and the snake, soaked in its own urine and blood, thumped onto Jeanine's white carpet like a huge, fleshy pipe. I saw right away it was dead.
"My God," she moaned, "a snake. You really did bring in a snake."
Frankly, I remember this rule with fondness, mostly because it taught me variation and pace. As I went on writing a scene, I found myself waiting as long as possible before I used the word "said" as I only allowed myself the one instance. I often held onto it until I could not see another way. Holding off on using "said" lent a certain tension between me and the words that went on the page. I grew to not like simply changing "said" to a descriptive tag, such as "murmured" or "chortled." I started to find ways to make the words themselves contain the charge and energy I was looking for.
But I have long since abandoned this rule, and I just as quickly leave it behind when it comes to teaching. In the above dialogue, the rule was handcuffing me by the middle of the passage. The effect was to bounce the reader between the huffs and the snarls, rather than between the two people. Had I been able to use a few more "said's," I could have leaned on the words a bit more, pushed my sense of their voices more. If the words of the characters are charged and chosen, they don't need the help of a descriptive dialogue tag.
What follows is that same dialogue written without any descriptive dialogue tags. Notice that I wasn't always forced to use "said," that the rhythm of the conversation and the use of gesture does the work in many cases.
"You're red," Jeanine said when I walked in the apartment, my arms slung around the huge box marked FRAGILE: EGGS.
"A snake," I said, "I bought a snake." The huge box shifted in my arms.
"You bought a snake?" She sneered a bit, then turned a page in her magazine. 'You bought a snake." Now she was saying it just to hear herself.
"From Andy . . .," The bottom of the box was wet. My new snake. "I bought the snake from Andy."
"Oh my God! It's in the box! You brought a snake in here!" She was screaming now, rising from the couch, arming herself by rolling the magazine.
I turned from her. "No, no."
"It's in the box," she declared. "I know it." She swiped with the magazine, herding me out toward the sunshine.
"Wait, wait." The snake slid forward in the box. "Just a second." "Get it out!"
The bottom of the box sagged, and I grabbed for it. "Don't hit me!" I said. "Don't!"
She hissed at me. "You can't do this. Not in my house." At that point, the box tore and the snake, soaked in its own urine and blood, thumped onto Jeanine's white carpet like a huge, fleshy pipe. I saw right away it was dead.
"My God," she said, "a snake. You really did bring in a snake."
In this version of the dialogue, action replaces a dialogue tag ("I turned from her. 'No, no.'"), a descriptive tag is turned into an active verb ("she hissed" is transformed into "She hissed at me."), and a straight dialogue tag is replaced by a descriptive tag for emphasis ("declared" is used to capture the tone of pronouncement and surety). Also we see points where it is obvious who is speaking even when we see no dialogue tag at all ("Get it out!"). These are all variations, designed to keep the reader listening to the dialogue and watching the present action. I've replaced descriptive tags because I felt they were tonally disruptive and distancing.
When to Use Descriptive Tags
Okay, now I've talked about when not to use descriptive tags. But they can't be ignored entirely, right? So when do you use them? As you know, I'll say rarely. But when you do use them, be aware that they affect tone. My advice is to pick them because you can hear some hint of the tone you are shooting for in the tag itself, before the words are attached. Look at the list I gave you at the beginning of this section. I'll reproduce it here in columns. Pick any two words.
Do you know anyone who speaks that way? Say you chose "hacked" and "trumpeted." Do you know anyone who hacks when she speaks? What does the word suggest to you? For me, the word is evocative of a smoker, someone older, someone prone to barking out orders. The word "hacked" cuts against the air; it's a harsh sound. I let the tag lead me to character. I can't see a fourteen-year-old hacking out words, unless he were coughing. He might be really sick, or trying his first cigarette even. Write a line of dialogue in which you use "hacked" as the descriptive tag.
"Yes," she hacked, "I would like some more sherry."
Not bad. Now this is my line, not yours, but I can tell you that I'm thinking about that older person I described above. I see her holding out a glass, suppressing her chronic smoker's cough. When I read the line, I think the tone of her words doesn't match the tone of the tag. I'll make it more of a bark, a command.
"Yes," she hacked, "more sherry."
When you start playing with descriptive tags, they can really lead you places. My mind is in the room with that woman now. I can begin to see the edges of things, the fine rugs, the polished woodwork, the heavy cut-glass ashtrays. I have never been here before either. I am starting to draw this on the basis of what I feel in the character, which came out of the choice of "hacked" and all that it suggested to me.
What if I changed the tag to my other choice, "trumpeted"?
"Yes," she trumpeted, "I would like some more sherry."
I just lost my original speaker, the old woman with the smoker's cough. Now I'm hearing a different voice. Who trumpets? A person prone to enthusiasm, to overstatement. It calls up celebration to me, and for
this person, who's obviously been asked if she'd like another drink, trumpeting something might be a declaration of who she is. I see her as loud now, holding little back, as someone who calls attention to herself easily and without pause. To make the tone of the words suit the tag, I would make a few changes.
"Why, yes," she trumpeted, "I'd love some more sherry!"
Now I see a party, or a gathering, perhaps in the same place, but in an entirely different circumstance. The descriptive tag led me there. The list of tags I used was fun to create, and it's fun to read too. There's a sort of writer who treasures the ability to play with and manipulate language over all else. These sorts of tags are one tool of a peculiar and powerful wit, but they can be used by all writers to lead them to new characters, or toward better understanding of the characters who already exist.
NO DIALOGUE TAGS
Some people don't want to use any dialogue tags. They seem to think they get in the way. This can work. Here's a dialogue between two people sitting in the rain.
"Just wait until this is over."
"That could be hours."
"Hours."
"Hours."
"But you said we would go get the money."
"I know I did. We will. We have to wait out the rain."
"Well that's my concern. I need that money."
"I'm aware of that. But that's why we wait."
The first guy wants to wait. He urges the other guy to wait out the rain. The other guy wants to go for the money. The dialogue has a conflict, something that sets the two of them against one another in the things they need and want. Easily understandable without dialogue tags, right?
If you were paying careful attention, you were following from one character to the other and you'll see that the first guy ("Just wait until this is over.") actually starts speaking where the second one ought to
so that by the end, the second guy is actually the one saying to wait. The dialogue slogs along from there. We become aware of the boundaries for the argument, but it's hard to know which voice is which, and more disturbingly, it ends up being less important which one is which. Chart it with names and you'll see where the mix-up occurs.
Ethan: Just wait until this is over.
Red: That could be hours.
Ethan: Hours.
Red: Hours.
Ethan: But you said we would go get the money.
Red: I know I did. We will. We have to wait out the rain.
Ethan: Well that's my concern. I need that money.
Red: I'm aware of that. But that's why we wait.
Still, most readers would barrel though that. There's something to be learned from the pace of that dialogue. But it's important to note that the alternation was not enough to keep the characters separate for us. Use untagged dialogue advisedly, but surely try it. It works particularly well when two people are caught in a long, fast-moving dialogue, where the needs of the characters define them as well as any dialogue tag could. Stephen Crane's "The Open Boat" features four men trapped in a lifeboat, caught in the open sea. The story moves for pages without any dialogue tags, and the initial effect is that the reader is never sure exactly who is speaking in any one line. The effect is purposeful though, as the reader begins to separate the men gradually and subtly. For a large portion of the story, they are trapped within sight of land but are unable to make a run for shore against the surf. Read the passage below. Watch to see where you can pick up on who is speaking.
"There's a man on shore!"
'Where?"
"There? See 'im? See 'im?"
"Yes, sure! He's walking along."
"Now he's stopped. Look! He's facing us!"
"He's waving at us!"
"So he is! By thunder!"
"Ah, now, we're all right! There'll be a boat out here for us
in half an hour."
It is impossible to say who is speaking when, and in what order. But here the lack of dialogue tags suits the effect of the story, which is to blend the four voices into one swirling mass of hope and uncertainty. The technique reflects the circumstance that it depicts. I'm not saying there is no other use for this sort of dialogue. There are plenty around, and plenty yet to be invented. But read for and understand the effect of the technique you choose. Like the other uses of dialogue tags mentioned here, use it wisely, in variation with the others. The key is to find a rhythm that suits you.
THE EXCLAMATION POINT
I had a friend, a sweet-hearted writer named Gabby Hyman, who taught me a good watchword on the exclamation point. He claimed his teacher taught him this, and that may be so, but by the time I got it, this was old advice. He said he only used exclamation points when he wanted the effect of what he was saying to be "boing!" You know "boing," the old cartoon sound of a spring uncoiling.
"Why yes!" Boing!
"I love gravy!" Boing!
"Take that ball away!" Boing!
I love the general spirit of this rule. The idea of attaching a sound to a piece of punctuation is marvelous. Periods could be thumps, question marks could sound like doorbells. There are times when that sound, that effect of "boing," is not all that bad. It might be something you want. But clearly my friend meant that as a warning not to use too many exclamation points. I have found that there are times when whispering "boing!" to yourself when you type an exclamation point might save you some trouble.
The trouble you get into with exclamation points is pretty easy to understand. Young writers tend to think of them as points of emphasis. For them an exclamation point reads, "I really mean it!" Children love them. Here's my son's first letter to me.
I am! I am mad!
Wow! Boing! The idea of saying "boing" as a writer is to remind yourself that the writer has authority, the reader knows the author means it and the exclamation point is not usually necessary.
Still, I've come to use exclamation points more as I get older. To me they represent earnestness rather than comic overstatement, though they surely can be used for either. And more. Understand the effect. You might start with the "boing rule," which will have the effect of making you use fewer exclamation points. From there, you might adopt another sound. There are many writers, from Mark Leyner to Nicholson Baker, for whom the exclamation point is a sharp-edged tool. I see it used well all the time. But you have to think, What effect does the exclamation point have? I've used it all through this book. My suggestion is to create your own sound effect to whisper to yourself whenever you use the exclamation point. That will help you produce music, through discipline.
ON ADVERBS
Recently I was reading a draft of a story that included this line.
"I love my home," she said quaintly. "I always have."
I paused at the moment I read the word "quaintly" and felt the urge to say exactly what she said aloud. How does one say that quaintly? Try it. Say it right now. But say it quaintly. Where does the emphasis fall?
"I love my home."
"I love my home."
"I love my home."
Perhaps you could add a southern accent to it? Or you could say it slowly and evenly so it sounded measured and practiced. No, even as you speak, the first seems too cliche, the second too calculating. Perhaps you could hold your hands in your lap as you say it. That would be quaint, in a certain sense.
The truth is, it's hard to say something quaintly. Impossible really. The trouble isn't the sense of the word "quaint"; it's using the word as an adverb. They tend to be trouble.
Should I tell you never to use adverbs? Rules like that irk me, but for now, okay: Never use adverbs, at least never use them within dialogue tags. It seems pretty harsh to say that, but there are good reasons. Adverbs tempt the reader to think more about the way something is said than about what is actually said. Remember that a verb describes an action already. An adverb merely qualifies an action. Using, more particularly, overusing, adverbs shifts the reader's focus from the words themselves to the speaker's accent, lilt and pace in speaking them. Speaking is
an act of will. It doesn't need much in the way of qualification.
Use actions and reactions to frame a dialogue. Reactions are good, part of the give-and-take of the whole. Yes, you want the words to cause reaction, but you want the reaction to be something tangible, such as flinching, not something loose and limpid, easily ignored, such as flinchingly.
Replace the adverbs in the dialogue below using gestures, shifting adverbs to adjectives, looking to the scene for your reaction.
"Has Bobbi seen this yet?" she said dryly.
"No, and I'm not going to show it to her until it's written in stone," Wilma said tersely.
"Frankly, I don't think that's smart," Kay said, grinningly. "I know what she'll say."
"We all think she'll be unhappy," Wilma responded knowingly.
An exaggeration, admittedly. But look at the italicized adverbs. Each is guilty of an effect that takes away from dialogue. The first— "dryly"—might be the most effective, but it's exactly the sort of thing that can be handled with a solid treatment of character, a declarative to set the pace ("Her tone was dry and detached, as usual"). Adverbs tend to take the place of description, unnecessarily so. The second— "tersely"—simply restated the tone and pace of what was said. The words "No, and I'm not going to show it to her until it's written in stone" are terse already. This is another problem with adverbs. When used in strong dialogue, adverbs can become redundant. The fourth adverb—"knowingly"—is guilty of much the same thing as the second, although this time it merely echoes the sentiment of the speaker rather than the pace or rhythm of what's being said. She's saying she knows, and she's saying it knowingly. The reader's response ought to be "Duh!" The third adverb—"grinningly"—is mawkish and contrived. It is an attempt to keep from saying "with a grin," which might sound too chipper, or "grinning," which seems comic. But the word "grinningly," which may not even be a word so
far as I know, is such an ugly creation and pushes the reader to think about the process of grinning rather than about the words being spoken. In addition, note that the speaker also used an adverb— "frankly"—and the adverb in the dialogue tag appears too close on the heels of that. Read the entire line aloud, tag and all, and you'll start to see the effect. Remember I am not saying that people don't use adverbs when they speak. I am saying not to use them when you, as a writer, describe the way in which they speak. Finally, unless used advisedly, adverbs can make dialogue sound contrived.
tmp1E21 Page 15