Art or Technique? The Secrets to Scintillating Speech

Dialogue. Is it an art or a technique? How should it be used in a story? How does the writer execute it realistically and without allowing it to dominate the narration?

For some, writing dialogue flows naturally with little consideration to its execution. For others, it's a monster task crafting speech that feels authentic and engaging.

Without knowing how to rein in this beast, or lend it wings, it might leave the writer feeling like a slave to their own story, rather than its master. Characters get carried away, talking incessantly to their authors, driving them mad. Then they suddenly shut up entirely, refusing to talk, leaving the insomniac, caffeine-crazed writer stumped on where to go next. Differentiating between dialogue that crackles with important details to progress the plot or character development, and dialogue that is fun banter but doesn't add too much substance, can be difficult. When down in the weeds of your story, you are the most emotionally attached.

It recently struck me that I've never blogged about writing dialogue. Yes, it's something that comes up in teaching and when editing a manuscript, but, for some reason, it's not a subject I've thought to write about.

This realisation hit me while writing my latest work -- a vampire sci-fi novelette (because the world got so depressing I wanted to lose myself in something I found fun rather than contemporary real life). Everything was fine until one character started talking incessantly at me, and I realised that my brain was writing the ending of the story. All in dialogue. One huge chunk of expository talking as an ending to a story.

Not a good idea.

Why?

Stories rely on action, but never more so than through the climax. The story resolution should arrive through action, not chat.

Despite my having taught the whys, wheres and hows of writing dialogue, for this particular story, all of my better judgement and own advice went out the window.

I am a staunch supporter of learning technique and to improve one's writing, but that still doesn't trump my other belief that one should go with the creative flow when it strikes, in whatever form it gives impetus to write. So, I've gone with it for that purpose. Now I wonder how to be rid of this pesky beast in edits (likely a structural edit), but everything the character says isn't feasible to explain earlier in the story. Unless, maybe, I turn it into a full-blown novel and bring in a second point-of-view character and a lot of backstory involving a space opera, which I'm resisting. I wanted this to be a long, short story. There are other projects demanding my attention.

And because I'm evidently a sadomasochist, I've rendered my main character physically incapacitated, so he can't even move, talk or do much but sit there and listen.

Nothing like creating a headache for yourself, eh? I wonder how many of you have found yourself in a similar situation.

This has made me think hard on how -- or if -- I can make this exposition work in a way that creates tension and not just act as a mass info dump on the reader (yes, that's a thing).

It also made me wonder what I could contribute to the art of dialogue that hasn't been said before. It's a dynamic force that extends far beyond the mere exchange of words. A vehicle for tension, a means for characters to reveal their unique personalities, and a way for your reader to connect with them, be that through humour or wrought emotion. The intricacies of crafting conversations go far beyond the niceties and protocols of everyday speech, incorporating elements like style, subtext, timing, intonation, and body language.

It's not just about characters speaking; it's about creating friction within those words. The unspoken, the half-said, and the deliberately omitted contribute to the underlying tension that propels a story forward. Like a musical composition, the pauses, silences and stops within the melody and harmonies are as significant as the notes themselves in creating a symphony of emotion and intrigue. Using words and phrases that carry double meanings to create suspicion or curiosity in the characters and/or the reader, or double meanings that pass under the reader's radar and only make sense once the big twist is revealed, all adds extra arrangements to your musical score. Be careful not to overdo it, though. Striking the right balance between subtlety and the desire to ensure your reader picks up on the nuances runs the risk of being either too gentle and evasive or sounding forced.

How you execute your dialogue can depend upon which genre you're writing. Allowing characters to speak for themselves is essential, but it's equally crucial to consider the stylistic demands of the genre and your personal writing style. For instance, the gritty literary works of Irvine Welsh, who wrote both his dialogue and character internal monologue phonetically at the start of his career, suit a certain aesthetic. However, Welsh himself acknowledges that his style might not have thrived in the current literary climate (the corporate conformity of all art, I'd suggest), were he just starting out. Consider where your novel fits in the market -- aiming for commercial success or pursuing a riskier artistic endeavour? -- and tailor your dialogue accordingly. In commercial fiction (plot-led), your dialogue should ideally move the plot along as a priority over characterisation distinctions.

Either way, the adage "less is more" finds particular resonance in dialogue. What characters don't say or only half express can have as much -- or more -- impact as what they state outright. Real-life conversations, especially uncomfortable ones, provide a blueprint for understanding the power of unspoken words. Pay attention to the nuances: What is avoided, half-stated, brushed over, or left hanging in implication? Crafting dialogue that mirrors these subtleties adds layers to your characters and depth to your narrative.

Pay attention to the timing of conversations—when someone snaps or trails off. Intonation, the rise and fall of speech, can convey emotions and nuances that written words alone may struggle to capture. The challenge for writers is to recreate these elements effectively in the written form without inclusion of all the filler we use in real-life chat.

But consider this: in the real world, 95% of human communication is non-verbal, conveyed through body language. The written word lacks this luxury, leading to misunderstandings and anxiety, especially in online interactions, which explains why we all fall out so much on social media over seemingly nothing, but not so much in person. The absence of body language indicators makes it challenging to interpret context, leading to heightened anxiety. Without the reassurances of true context through body language, our base instincts cannot interpret whether the medium of text puts us in danger. I'd even argue that is the basis of the controversial trend of cancel culture.

As fiction writers, the challenge is to convey the richness of context through words. Employing body language to punctuate your dialogue with some psychological nuance can bridge this gap and provide your reader with a more rounded experience, so it's worth doing some research in that area.

 As for myself and my own particular conundrum... sigh. Where's the paracetamol?

How about you? What is your biggest problem when it comes to writing dialogue, or have you already mastered it?