Post your dialogue--show us your tags!

[swvaughn]

Inspired by the "Said" thread (hee hee)...

I'd like to see how different folks here handle dialogue tags. So, if you're game, pick a short snippet of conversation (fast and furious if you got it!) from a WIP or completed novel and post it here. I'll bet there's a whole range of different dialogue styles on AW.

I'll start:

-----------------

Jazz hesitated. When she finally started speaking, she kept her gaze straight ahead. “First off, Trevor has an open contract out on you. Big money. He wants you alive.”

“Son of a bitch works fast, doesn’t he?” I gripped the armrest hard. “I hate to ask, but you know I have to. Are you planning to cash me in?”

“No.” She gave a short laugh. “The thought crossed my mind. Like I said, though, I hate him more. Don’t worry—I put out word that you were on my shit list a long time ago. No one will come looking for you with me.”

“Great. That’s reassuring.”

“If I wanted to reassure you, I would’ve lied. What’d you do to him, anyway?”

“Stepped on his foot and scuffed his loafers.”

“Come on, Donatti.”

I had to fess up. How embarrassing. “He hired me to lift something, and I... lost it.”

-------------

Hmm. Just noticed I didn't use "said" once in this exchange. Interesting. :)

[SpookyWriter]

Inspired by the "Said" thread (hee hee)...

I'd like to see how different folks here handle dialogue tags. So, if you're game, pick a short snippet of conversation (fast and furious if you got it!) from a WIP or completed novel and post it here. I'll bet there's a whole range of different dialogue styles on AW.

I'll start:

-----------------

Jazz hesitated. When she finally started speaking, she kept her gaze straight ahead. “First off, Trevor has an open contract out on you. Big money. He wants you alive.”

I really don't like talking heads or a narrator who speaks for me. The introduction to this scene would make me put the book down.

I am confused by this sentence:

“First off, Trevor has an open contract out on you. Big money. He wants you alive.”


“Son of a bitch works fast, doesn’t he?” I gripped the armrest hard. “I hate to ask, but you know I have to. Are you planning to cash me in?”

“No.” She gave a short laugh. “The thought crossed my mind. Like I said, though, I hate him more. Don’t worry—I put out word that you were on my shit list a long time ago. No one will come looking for you with me.”

“Great. That’s reassuring.”

“If I wanted to reassure you, I would’ve lied. What’d you do to him, anyway?”

“Stepped on his foot and scuffed his loafers.”

“Come on, Donatti.”

I had to fess up. How embarrassing. “He hired me to lift something, and I... lost it.”

-------------

Hmm. Just noticed I didn't use "said" once in this exchange. Interesting. :)

I couldn't follow what was being said, by whom, and the dialogue tags only made this scene more confusing.

[swvaughn]

Uh ... thanks, Spooky? :D

This is kinda ripped from the middle of a chapter, so yeah, it probably doesn't make much sense by itself. And thanks for the crit. :)

So where's your dialogue? 'Tis what this thread is for!

[Azraelsbane]

My dialogue usually comes with loads of narration. I rarely use dialogue tags because of this. The actions in the paragraph are used as a way of showing who is speaking. Also, in many instances the speech patterns of the characters are different enough to drop dialogue tags.

The problem with posting a bit of dialogue from my work is that even an exchange of 3 or 4 lines of dialogue would probably end up taking far too much space in a thread. I guess I could cut all the actions out and post the dialogue, but then I think it would defeat the point. :) I'm sure lots of people would have an easier time contributing. It's interesting to see how different people handle dialogue.

[Esopha]

I'll play.

------

"The police take pride in their work, ma'am," Horace said, and hesitated. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to place you under arrest."

"For what?"

"Conspiring with known criminals."

"He wasn't a known criminal at the time," Liza said. "He's known now, but I'm certainly not conspiring with him anymore."

"Then what are you doing?" Horace asked.

"Talking with an old friend," Liza said. She stopped beneath a tree, and folded her tail neatly around her paws.

"But you're-"

"A cat? Oh yes. I am. That doesn't mean I can't be an old friend, though."

"Your voice..." he said, but then stopped.

"What about my voice?"

"It sounds familiar. But I haven't heard it in... thirty years, at least. Cats don't live for thirty years."

"Of course they don't," Liza said, yawning. "But people do."

[blacbird]

(Short scene picked at random from my best completed unpublishable novel. This particular scene takes place at a large rear-area U.S. Army base in Vietnam, 1970, between the protag and a friend, both low-ranking enlisted men. It's pretty typical of the writing style and dialogue technique for the novel overall.)

Toward the end of February, Saint learned from Lt. Rose that Jimmy Rides His Horses had extended his tour another six months.

“Why?” Saint demanded when he ran into Rides leaving company office at the end of the day. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Rides shrugged. “It’s not so bad here. They feed me, give me a place to sleep, I work indoors, don’t have to lift nothing, nobody yells at me. I even get combat pay for typing. Beats the rez.”

“Christ, Jim, they shoot at people here. Even us. Some night a rocket could come in right here, while you’re asleep. Boom, it’s all over.”

Rides paused. “I had a cousin, name of Darrell Youngblood. He was sleeping in his own bed in the trailer he lived in, and this neighbor of mine, name of Leonard Plenty Crows, was driving back to his house late at night and ran off the road up into Darrell’s yard and hit the propane tank on Darrell’s trailer, and it blew up and killed them both.”

Saint had no response for that one.

“Near as I can tell,” Rides went on after a few seconds, “what you guys are doing here is about what you did a hundred years ago to my relatives. Sometimes I think like I ought to be on the other side. But I can’t do nothing about it, so I sit here quiet and type and don’t kill nobody. And you guys pay me for it. Some nights you even go out and guard the perimeter so the bad guys don’t come and shoot me. And I don’t even have to say Thank you. It’s not so bad.”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said.


caw

[J. R. Tomlin]

This is from the middle of a chapter but probably fairly understandable. (I hope. :) ) Hope it's not too long for the purpose though.

This has 3 people speaking.
--------------------------------------


Tamra sighed heavily, realizing at no point had she planned what to say. She looked from one to the other for the moment at a loss how to put what she had to tell them. “I am no longer in my mother's service.” She paused, staring blankly at the wall as she searched for words. “She released me from my fealty with words that were hard between us. I will serve you here if you'll have me.”

“What words would be hard enough for you to ignore my order to defend the keep?” the Prince demanded.

“She ordered me to leave, milord. I couldn't stay against her command. Such words as passed between us... It is shameful for her and for me. I beg that you not to make me repeat them here.”

Aliskar sat down, his hooded blue eyes raking her up and down. “I could command you to tell me.”

Tamra stared at her feet. “You could, milord, and I'd be forced to obey. But, please, it was between my mother and me—a family argument long coming.” She couldn't help the quiver in her voice. “If you allow, I will defend your city. I give you my oath before the Goddess.”

The Prince leaned forward, steepling his hands, elbow on the table. He gave her a long silent look. “I won’t force you.” He turned toward Cedrian, standing by his side. “I leave it to you, son. She fought at your side before. The choice is yours.”

“I know that Tamra would be a valuable aid to me.” Cedrian gazed into her eyes. “Are you sure you want to serve under my command?”

“I give you my word. I’ll defend the city with my life.”

A very slight smile touched his lips. “Your help is welcome, Tamra. I can use a second-in-command after our losses... Well, no need to go into that. Tell the chamberlain I said to find you a chamber. Rest. We'll talk later about your duties.”

--------------------------------------------
That is pretty typical for my dialogue.

[Voyager]

It's kind of difficult without pasting the narrative that comes before, but here goes:


One of the staff psychiatrists came to stand beside the priest. “How long has she been asking for me?”

The amiable, middle-aged doctor laid a comforting hand on Father Nico’s shoulder. “Since she woke up this morning, Father. They found her scratched up and covered in her own blood, asking to see you.”

“I’d like to talk to her now, if I may.” The priest prepared himself for the bizarre conversation that always followed.

“No problem.”


I'm not a fan of said, or any variation of the dialogue tag. I try to avoid them as much as possible because I used to abuse them shamelessly. He said, she laughed, they replied. It probably doesn't bother the reader as much as it bothers the people who have to reread and edit a gozillion times.

[underthecity]

Here's some dialog from a scene I've recently revised. Setup: Denise is finding out from her sister Linda that she used to date a guy that recently died.

“Oh my fucking God,” she said softly.

“What?”

“I know him . . . I mean, I knew him,” she corrected herself. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She swiped at one of them. “I remember that voice so well. What was his last name? Sebring? Stewing?”

“Sterling. It was Mark Sterling. How did you know him?”

“An artist, right? Longish hair?”

“That’s him.”

“Yeah.” She lit a fresh cigarette and inhaled deeply. “I met him in a bar. Dave’s Place down on 39th. Last January. How corny is that?” She laughed colorlessly. “It was during a show, local band night. The Flamingos were playing I remember. Cover band from Van Nuys. Ever see them?”

Linda rarely went out to clubs anymore and had no idea who the Flamingos were. “No, I sure haven’t.”

“They aren’t bad. Well, I was dancing, holding my beer. I bumped into him and spilled my drink all over his shirt. He wasn’t mad or anything, but I was all embarrassed. He was really cute.”

“Like that’s the first time anything like that’s ever happened.”

“Hey, give me a break, will you? I’m mourning here.” She took another drag off her cigarette.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers through her stringy, blonde hair. “He excused himself to clean up. When he got back, he bought me a drink. Gentlemanly of him, wasn’t it? Well, we started talking, one thing led to another, and he ended up staying the night at my place.”

Linda smiled. “Like the first time that’s—”

“Shut up already. Anyway, we went out a few times, partied, saw a few more shows around town, even went to Dave Matthews at Hollywood Bowl together. We weren’t dating, nothing like that, just friends . . . sometimes more. I’ll bet I still have his number in my cell. Might still have some of his texts, I never clean them out.” She glanced at her purse and sighed. “I can’t believe he’s gone. And you were the last one to see him. I know it’s been a while since him and I talked, but still . . . .”

[TurkeyLurkey]

Keep in mind that this is a MG sci-fi adventure. It involves robots and two humans. Jake is a human (15yo) and Chanel is the other human (12yo).

“Miss Channel, I am happy to have you aboard our ship!” Captain Gill takes his seat and rests his elbows on the table, tapping his fingers together. “I thought this would be a good time to introduce ourselves.” He gestures to the other robots sitting at the table. Chanel looks around and notices Jake sitting three chairs over from her. He seems amused.

“My name is Gill, but you already know me. Let me introduce you to the other crew members.” He points to the robot on his left. “This is Orb. He is the one in charge of keeping this ship clean and organized.”

Chanel gives the robot a shy smile. He is shorter than Gill, and his abdomen looks very much like a large wrecking ball with a small round door in front. His oval face has two large round eyes with the familiar green light shining behind them. He is staring at Chanel, apparently waiting for her to speak.

“Hi.” She waves her hand tentatively. And waits to see if Orb responds.

“Hello.” His dry reply echoes within his belly. Then he turns is attention back to a computer sitting on the conference table.

“The robot sitting next to Orb is I-Leen. She is very handy with defensive machinery, and maintains the ship’s coordinates, and radar functions.” Gill’s voice is full of pride. “Without her abilities, the Calebrix could sneak up on us at any time.”

The female robot stands from her seat and reaches for Chanel’s hand. Chanel shakes it and realizes the lower half of her body isn’t in correct proportion. In fact one leg seems a few inches shorter than the other. Chanel smiles and looks up into her friendly face.

“Nice to meet you Miss Channel.” She shakes her hand and then fumbles back into her seat.

“It’s pronounced Chanel.” Chanel tries to use her most polite voice. She doesn’t want to embarrass any of the robots.

“Actually, you ought to call her Squirt.” Jake props his feet up on the table and leans back in his chair. He flashes a big grin at Chanel’s red face.

“Oh, Ok.” I-Leen nods her understanding. She looks back up at Chanel. “It is nice to meet you; Squirt.”

At this point, Chanel is too embarrassed to correct her, and clenches her jaw as she smiles back. “Thank you. It is nice to meet you too.” She turns and glares back at Jake while the other robots aren’t looking. He just smirks and looks back up at Gill to hear the next introduction.

[pepperlandgirl]

“Well, maybe it’s best if I meet him alone. I used to be able to do things on my own all the time.”

Jesse didn’t expect the cool glide of fingers across his, but he curled his hand into Gideon’s just the same.

“You have so much strength in you.” Gideon was lost in shadows, the streetlights flirting with the planes of his face. “I’ve always known that.”

A compliment from Gideon would always make him warm with pleasure. And on some level, Jesse knew what Gideon said must be true. How could he help Gideon if he didn’t have strength inside of him? How could he face the sort of horrors they see every week if he wasn’t strong? How could he be a good partner for either Gideon or Emma if he were weak?

“Always?” He asked lightly. “Even when you were saving me from vampires and chastising me for wandering around Chicago after dark?”

“I said strong. I didn’t say smart.”

Jesse snorted. “I figured you just kept me around for my good looks. I’m dumb but pretty.”

“Don’t forget the begging. That’s a turn-on.”

“Yeah, but you’re so easy, I never have to beg for long.”

Gideon’s brows shot up. “You did not just dare me.”

Jesse looked at him with all the innocence he could muster. “I might have. I’m dumb, remember?”

They came to a halt. Before Jesse could blink, Gideon’s hand was strong at his nape, pulling him hard against his chest as their mouths clashed. The kiss was brief but brutal, leaving him tense and aching by the time they separated.

“Focus on the strong for now and we’ll leave the begging for later.” He jerked his head toward the building behind them. “We’re here.”

[Devil Ledbetter]

They'e in a car, and lost. Ellie is driving. It's written from Clive's POV.

She slowed. “Did you see a sign?”

“No. Seems like I’ve been here before though. I might know this street.” He stared out at the glum apartment buildings and tatty business awnings. Payday Loans Today. Huggy’s Bail Bonds.

They came to the next corner.

“Pole. The sign was stolen. Turn here, I’m thinking.”

A lanky redhead stepped out of a doorway and moved in the opposite direction.

“El, that was Lucretia! I just fucking saw Lucretia.”

“Nah, you didn’t.”

“That was her, damn it.” He twisted around in his seat. “The hair. I’d know it anywhere.”

“That whore was way too old to be Creep-Show.”

“Don’t call her that. And it wasn’t a whore. It was her. Go back!”

“I’m not turning around for you to rescue some whore.”

“Pull over. I know it was her.”

“All the more reason to keep driving. And in case you didn’t notice, we’re in the ass crack of Detroit.”

A car stopped in front of them and Clive opened his door. Never any point awaiting Ellie’s approval when she scowled like that.

“Don’t do it, Cliver. No good can come of it. What are you going to do? Give her money? She’ll just spend it on drugs.”

He got out. “Keep it locked. If anything even looks suspicious, get out of this place.”

“No. Get your dumb ass back in the car.”

[Azraelsbane]

I found a short piece, so I'll play too. :)
---

Nikoli continued to glare at him. “Your understanding is not mandatory, only your obedience.”

“Obedience?” Heat rose in Michael's cheeks. “What kind of sick bastard are you to think I owe you anything? I thought you were dead! I was alone for God knows how long, and judging by the wings, the telepathy, and the calm, collected reaction to what just happened, I’d be willing to bet you could’ve saved me from the loneliness before it drove me half mad.”

“Solitude builds character.” Nikoli paused and gave Michael a once over with his eyes. “At least it should.”

Tears slid over Michael's cheeks. He didn’t want to cry. He wanted to rip his father apart from the inside, like the man had so expertly done to him.

“I would strongly advise against that course of action, Michael. My original threat still stands.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “What, you can read my thoughts too?” He sniffed loudly. “I hope you’re getting a good dose of just how much I hate you right now.”

Nikoli raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Your hatred is trivial. It’s your idiocy that infects my mood.”

[preyer]

i wasn't confused, but i would prefer an example not in first-person. warning, the following contains adult material, course language and rocks. (this ain't a WIP or anything, just an example as i'm winging it. :))



Jim threw his jacket on the bed and yanked his tie loose. "Well, that was quite a fucking show you put on tonight, Linda. I didn't know you were such an actress."

"Who was acting?" Linda said without remorse in her tone while putting her rings in the jewelry box on her vanity. She gave herself a quick look in the mirror, neither disapproving of herself nor justifying the night's activities.

"Oh, so now you weren't acting, huh? Great. That's just fucking great, Linda. Well, at least one of us came through our experiment feeling just peachy."

*Came* she thought to herself. *What a good choice of words.* She dared a slight smile at her reflection, pulling the earrings off. Her eyes drifted towards her cleavage and, impressed with herself, couldn't stop her nipples from hardening had she tried. "It was your stupid idea, Jim."

Jim 'heh heh'ed increduously and turned to his wife. "You didn't seem to feel it was stupid at the time."

She spun around. "Maybe that's because I was having an orgasm at the time."

"So I noticed." Jim started to rub his neck as he milled about. "Yep, you sure seemed to be having a good time all right."

Linda sat at her vanity to wipe make-up off. "And I suppose you didn't have a good time with Cheryl?"

Jim thought he would have had a great time with his friend's wife, then found her not to be Linda. Now, it seemed, Linda wasn't so much like the Linda he thought he knew. "Slut," he muttered under his breath, "should have known better than to try something new."

"What's that, dear? What did you say just now? Did you just call me a name?"

"No," he lied. "So.... What was it that did it for you?"

Exasperated, Linda dropped her arms to the table and looked at Jim in the mirror. "What?"

"I said, what did it for you?"

"Are you kidding--"

"What the fuck was it?!"

"He's got a big dick, is that what you want to hear?! He fucked me with his big dick and fucked me good. Not like that little prick you use to poke me with. Does that make you feel better, asshole?"

"You goddamn...," Jim growled, stepping towards her, fist clenched.

"Stop right there," Linda warned, "before you make a bigger jackass out of yourself. I suggest you go take a shower and find a blanket. You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

"I am, am I? Maybe you should sleep on the couch. Better yet, maybe you should go sleep with him. You're probably already thinking about ways to fuck him some more, aren't you?"

"Yes, Jim, that's exactly what I'm doing, planning on sneaking around and being with a man I didn't want to be with in the first place." She wiped her cheek hard with a cleansing pad. "From now on all I plan on doing is fucking and sucking him every chance I get, because that's all women want is some sleezeball swinger with a nice package."

Jim's face burned. He wanted to hit her, wanted to beat her so hard she'd forget the night.

"Go get a shower, Jim. We'll talk in the morning."



egh. needs work, but i think i pretty much got most of the ways i do dialogue in there.

[c.e.lawson]

Erm, preyer - I'd call that language (and content) coarse, rather than course. Very coarse. Not surprisingly so, of course. ;) Just a warning to other readers.

c.e.

[swvaughn]

Woo hoo! That's what I'm talkin' bout! :D

Great examples, everyone. I'm actually learning from reading these!

(preyer ... you just threw that up, huh? Well -- whoa. Nice. :D)

[Shadow_Ferret]

I want to play.

I got out and stood by the car. I only had to wait a few moments before Kali came bouncing up.

"Hey dad, how come you're here?"

"I felt guilty about last night, c'mon. Let's go do something."

"Um, homework?" Kali said in that annoying "Dad, you're such a dope" voice. I told you she liked school. I never would have put homework first. Or even second.

"Yeah, yeah, do that then we'll go do something, just you and me."

"OK!" she said as she climbed into the back seat. All right, maybe I am a little overprotective. She was old enough to sit in front, but I still felt more comfortable with her in the back and no airbag. Better to be safe, as they say.

I got in, adjusted my seat, checked all the mirrors, and glanced behind me.

"All set?"

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out.

"Yes, daddy, I'm all set."

Some rituals I never give up and car safety is one of them. I started the car and pulled out into the stream of minivans and SUVs leaving the parking lot.

"What did you learn in school today?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Nuthin'" she said as I mouthed the response at the same time. Same question, same response for six years of school.

"What was that?" she asked.

"What was what?"

"I saw your head moving. You were copying me, weren't you?"

"I most certainly was not copying you."

"Were too."

"Was not."

"Too!"

"Not!" I said. We have some very mature conversations and I'll spare you the fact that "Too" and "Not" were repeated about a dozen more times before we finally stopped.

"Too!" I said.

"Daddy, you're not Bugs Bunny. Changing your answer hasn't worked since I was four."

I shrugged. "It was worth a try."

[Sunkissed27f]

Here's a brief convo:
The phone rang, just as she was getting ready to dial her landlady’s number for the fourth time since six o’clock.
“Emma? This is Valerie, your landlord,” the small voice coming from her end of the phone sounded far away, full of echoes.
“Yes, yes, this is Emma. Look Valerie, I am sorry I called you so early, but we have a problem.”
There was a slight crackling sound followed by a horn blast, “I can barely hear you, Emma. I’ll have to call you back, I’m on the interstate.”
Emma heard an electric hum followed by a hollow silence, “Son of a b…” She caught herself before she let the explicit leave her frowning mouth.

And another:

“Just a second Valerie, let me grab a robe!”
Emma snagged her robe off the back of the Louis IV Fauteuil Chair in the foyer. Tying the belt loosely over her gossamer gown, she unbolted the door.
“Good morning Valerie. I am sorry I called so early, but...Oh, sorry you’re not Valerie,” taking a hesitant step backward, Emma started to close the door.
“Not a problem. I’m Luke, the apartment manager. Valerie called me, saying you had a problem?”
The guy standing in her doorway didn’t look like any apartment manager she had ever seen. He wasn’t dirty, overweight, and his jeans didn’t sag around his hips. Luke didn’t sport a white shirt with stains on it either. He was tall, broad shouldered, with neatly trimmed black hair and cyan blue eyes. He had on a clean pair of khakis and a red and white polo, sporty in a business casual way. Stifling a giggle at the mental image of the last plumber she had met, who had shown her a large portion of his derrière, she didn’t think he looked like that at all. Then again he wasn’t exactly a plumber.
Emma extended her hand, her manners getting the best of her, “I’m Emma and pleased to meet you.”
Luke smiled a slow lazy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He had noticeable laugh lines creasing playfully around his mouth and one very charming dimple.
“Nice to meet you as well, Miss Emma,” he took her smooth palm in his warm, callused one and shook it gently.

[Ziljon]

Here's a bit from my WIP. SULGON (the dark prince) has stolen DUNCAN'S place in his family. He is having breakefast with Duncan's two older brothers, MACK (13) and PADDY (14) and their MOM, SARAH LEIGH, all three of whom believe him to be Duncan. In this scene he attempts to use reverse psychology to get the two older boys to deal with a problematic girl, CHLOE.

---------------

“So who did you smack, Duncky? Mom wouldn’t tell us.” It was Mack, gobbling up another toasted butter-bun. His fifth.

“Boys, leave your brother alone. What he did was wrong, but he’s allowed his privacy . . . as long as he promises not to do it again.”

“No, Mother, it is all right. Mack and Paddy have not yet met my girlfriend, I believe, and I think it important they know how very much I like her, and how sorry I am that I slapped her. She is my girlfriend, you know,” he added, looking brightly into their awestruck faces.

The boys turned to each other, their mouths full, frozen in mid-bite. Slowly, they both began to laugh, snorting, each trying not to spew the contents of his cheeks while desperately trying to cause the other to do so.

Paddy--who seemed to have the largest maw in the family--finished first and blurted, “Duncan has a girlfriend, Duncan has a girlfriend.” Then, noticing his brother wasn’t fazed, stopped and asked, “So, what’s her name, dingus?”

“No, not Dingus, it is Chloë.”

“Chloë what?” asked Mack.

“Chloë Strø . . .Strum. . . Straw-ber-ling.” He had been about to say Strømling but thought better of it, not sure whether the brothers or mother would have heard the name before.

“Chloë Strawberry! What, is she a cartoon character?” Mack said, laughing at his own joke.

“Maybe Strawberry’s her middle name," Paddy added, "and Milkshake is her last name! Is that it, Chloë Strawberry Milkshake?”

Both boys were in hysterics now. Just what Sulgon had hoped for.

“Duncan, I thought she said her name was Dunne?” Sarah asked.

“Ah, yes, Mother. You are right...” Sulgon's mind raced to find a plausible explanation. “Strawberry is my love-name for her.”

Now even Mrs. Leigh’s mouth hung open in surprise. She couldn’t help but exchange a glance with Mack and Paddy, who were very close to exploding.

Sulgon hurried on, sensing he was achieving his goal. “Remember, brothers. She is very dear to me, it would give me the gravest displeasure were you to harm or frighten her. She is very afraid of the water, and of the dark, and of . . . being crushed by snakes.”

[preyer]

d'oh! you're right, i used the wrong word there, lol. but, yeah, i threw that together as i sat down and wrote it in the little 'quick reply' box. it seemed like an interesting opener at the moment (not to mention the only thing that popped into my head). what was funny about that is 'jim' and 'linda' were two names i pulled out of nowhere and i noticed each of those were used in other peoples' samples, which were great, btw.

i think we all generally like to mix things up and pretty much need to consider how many different variations on the 'dialogue tag' there are. what i'd really like to see here is a conversation between at least three people ~ that's when you have to pause and think about it a bit more sometimes, because then you have to really take dialogue tags into consideration.

[Sunkissed27f]

i think we all generally like to mix things up and pretty much need to consider how many different variations on the 'dialogue tag' there are. what i'd really like to see here is a conversation between at least three people ~ that's when you have to pause and think about it a bit more sometimes, because then you have to really take dialogue tags into consideration.

I am working on a small after awards party right now with 11 people. At any one time there will be 2 groups of 4 and a group of 3 people, talking all on different subjects.....aaaahhhhh!!

BRAVO!! To you ALL.

These are great!!

[Sassee]

Plucked randomly from my first draft. They're sitting on a couch in someone's house.

“Kate,” she asked, sitting on my lap, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I smiled. Nothing now that I’m buzzed.

“Sure. That totally explains why your eyes have been bright yellow all day and you’re drinking enough for three people.”

I pushed her off. “Not my fault.”

“Come on, tell me. I love gossip.”

“Yeah, I know you do, that’s why I’m not telling you.”

“It’s that O’Connor guy, isn’t it? He has a really cute accent. You should call him.”

I’d sooner cut off a boob. “No.”

“Well who is it then? It’s gotta be a guy. No one drinks that much unless they have guy trouble.”

“Pick one,” I mumbled.

She gasped. “Ooh, there’s more than one? Now you have to tell me.”

“Lana I can’t tell you, seriously. The alphas will kill you.”

“Is that a gang? The Alphas? I didn’t know this town had a gang. Can I meet one of them?”

I tried to wave her away like a pesky fly. “What are you talking about? No, Lana, you can’t meet one. And it isn’t a gang.”

[Sassee]

i think we all generally like to mix things up and pretty much need to consider how many different variations on the 'dialogue tag' there are. what i'd really like to see here is a conversation between at least three people ~ that's when you have to pause and think about it a bit more sometimes, because then you have to really take dialogue tags into consideration.

Oh, hmm... more than three peeps. I have a few of those scenes here somewhere.

<runs off to dig through her WIP>

[sneakers145]

Billy crept along the shadows of the neighbor’s house, keeping an eye on the man.

A woman’s voice came through the open window. “You’re crushing my impatiens.”

He smiled. “Sorry, ma’am. My cat got loose and I saw him dart into your yard.” He could barely make out the woman’s features through the black screen.

“Can you see him?” she asked.

Worry in her voice. Good. “I think he might have gone into your crawl space. Could I trouble you for a spot of cream?”

“Certainly. Come around to the back door.” She met him there with a delicate saucer filled with milk.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am. I’m sure he’ll come out in no time.” He set the saucer under the edge of the house.

“Please. Call me Edith.”
A door over at the girl’s house slammed shut, and the maroon sedan rumbled to life. It backed out of the drive and took off up and over the hill.

He looked into the pale green eyes of his new lady friend. “Billy Shively, ma’am. Mind if I call the missus? She’s awfully fond of Boots.”

The woman held open the door, and he entered into the tiny but clutter-free kitchen. “The phone is in the living room,” she said. “Help yourself. I’ll put the water on for tea.”

Southern hospitality at its best. A letter under the phone was addressed to Edith Plumley, 2314 Piedmont. He picked up the receiver and pretended to dial. His eyes scanned the room. The window shades were all drawn. Perfect. A movie played on the flickering television in the corner. Too bad Edith wouldn’t live to see how it ended.

[Azraelsbane]

It's a little long, but it's three people. Hopefully it's not too horribly confusing.
---

Morghan broke away from Luke and mounted the steps. “Get out of my seat, ya bum!” She prodded Azrael in the shoulder and laughed. “I’m gone a mere century and you think you own the place again.”

Azrael didn’t look at her. He shoved his cards into a haphazard stack, and stepped down from the throne.

“Not in your friendliest mood today, I see.” She plopped down in the empty seat.

“Sometimes I'm not given a choice.” Azrael hoisted himself onto the armrest and glared at Luke. “Isn’t that right?”

Luke didn’t look happy as he sat beside her.

“Oh here we go again. Aren’t we just one big, happy family?” Morghan rolled her eyes. Would the two of them never get over their male pmsing? She wasn’t quite sure which she hated more, boring herself to death in Heaven, or dealing with the childish bitchfests in Hell. Maybe she could lighten the mood. “Just because I’m impossible to please doesn’t mean you boys should stop trying.”

“I thought I’d been doing a pretty good job of pleasing you.” Luke mumbled something more under his breath and scuffed a boot on the platform.

“You have.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You’ve spoiled me for mortal love.”

“You were already spoiled for it.” He frowned, looking into her eyes, “Or do you suddenly remember a rewarding experience on Earth?”

She shrugged him off with a wry smile. “That only adds credibility to the fact that I am impossible to please.”

“But I-”

Azrael cut him short. “You don’t count. You’re superhuman. That's essentially the same as cheating.”

Morghan was shocked that for once, Azrael was the one provoking hostility. So much for humor.

Luke stood, baring his teeth. “You’re overstepping your boundaries, Azrael! You forget yourself.”

Azrael held his stony gaze against Luke’s flaming one.

“Hold on a minute!” Morghan yanked Luke back into his seat. “What the Hell is wrong with you two?"

“Lately he has been treating me as his slave, and he’s having a problem with the fact that I’m not acting the part.” Was that a sly grin on Azrael’s face? Uh oh. “Or is it something more?”

Luke began to rise again, but Morghan held him firmly in place. This needed straightening out, otherwise she really was going back to Heaven, boredom be damned. “Slave? What is this slave business?”

“He is not my slave! Though if you want to get technical, he should serve under me.”

“And where is my place?” Morghan narrowed her eyes. “Since he sat in this seat long before I did. Is my place under you as well?”

“That’s different. You’re different.”

[Judg]

Here's a rather atypical bit. You'll see why, I hope. Disclaimer: this is a first draft.

*****

“So why don’t you make this easier for both of us and just tell me who your contacts are?” Owen was still speaking loudly and in the sudden silence that followed his question, the guards’ footsteps could be heard going out the front door and fading away entirely.

Owen put his face close and hissed menacingly, “Listen, you reeking piece of horse dung, I really am sorry about all this, but I had to make it look convincing.”

Blayn’s mouth dropped open and he blinked twice. The bearded face in front of him contorted in an obvious effort to contain laughter. Then it fixed itself once more in a hard expression.

“You are staying in that chair, my friend,” Owen continued in a voice dripping with quiet venom, “until such time as I am perfectly convinced there is no one left in the building who could walk in on us. When you answer me, you make very sure you talk to me in a properly servile tone of voice, defiant if you wish, but keep it quiet and anything but friendly.”

“That,” murmured Blayn in quiet admiration, “was one of the best acting jobs I have ever seen. There aren’t many who can conceal themselves from me that long.”

Owen waited a few heartbeats then sneered loudly, “Still refusing to cooperate, are you? This will make for a long, long night.” Then he dropped his voice to quiet hostility again. “I’m sorry it took so long to come for you. I didn’t even know for a couple of days where you were, and then there were a lot of arrangements to make.”

Blayn raised his chin and responded with dignity, “What kind of arrangements?”

“You and I, my friend, are going north to find that son of yours.”

“I can’t allow you to make that kind of sacrifice for me. You have a career here. And how did you know I was going north?”

“Don’t be foolish. I’ve already made the sacrifice and it was quite a relief, let me tell you. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that you want me to send you back to that stinkhole while our Nortish friends make a Black Priest out of your son, do you?”

Blayn had no answer for that. Owen, who had been watching his face closely, grunted in understanding.

“So that’s that,” he said, “we’ll head north in a few hours.”

[Sunkissed27f]

Sigh...now I have to change one of my MC's name from Luke!!

[GerriB]

Apologies for the length, but it's pretty representitive of my dialogue tags. It's also fairly unedited, so lots of grinning going on that I'd have to revise out. *shrug* First drafts suck, what can I say.

*****
Kelly's excited voice rose above the general crowd noise. Jule cringed and leaned her head against the cool bulkplate. What karmic past had doomed her to live with people who set her nerves on edge?

"Hi, Daddy!" Kelly said.

Jule looked over to see Kelly hanging onto the handle in front of the nearest vidcomm. An older gentleman, with a fringe of blond hair under a shiny bald pate, smiled out of the picture. "Hey, there, Pumpkin! You're calling from orbit?"

"Yes!" Kelly squealed. "You were right! They did have a last-minute opening."

"Now see, what'd I tell ya?" Daddy grinned. "That's my girl!" He leaned back in the chair, and the view of a cityscape outside his window came into focus. Houston, if Jule remembered Kelly's bio correctly.

"And we're in real free-fall," Kelly said. "Watch this!" She let go of the bar and did a slow somersault in mid-air.

Jule couldn't help a grin. Hopefully the girl had gotten her anti-nausea shot before. . .

Kelly missed her grab at the bar on her way around, and Jule caught a glimpse of her assistant's greenish face. "Ohhh. . ." Kelly moaned.

Oh, dear. Hopefully, the girl had a strong stomach. Jule heaved a sigh, then launched herself over to Kelly's side and offered a helping hand. Kelly gratefully latched on to the proffered support and allowed Jule to pull them both up to the camera.

"Pumpkin?" Daddy said. "Who's this?"

Too late, Jule realized her trajectory had taken her into the frame of the vidcomm. She shifted into patient with the parent mode. "Hello, Mr. Geist," she said. "I'm Doctor Jule le Bois, Kelly's professor."

"You look young enough to be a student," Mr. Geist said.

Jule did her best to smile enthusiastically instead of grimly. Did he really think he was the first, or the last person to say that to her? Stars above, thirty-five wasn't that young! "Why, thank you," she murmured. "Anyway, as my assistant, Kelly will be studying field xenoforensics with me."

"Well, I'm sure she's in good hands," he said, managing to look doubtful in the process. "Take care of my little girl, now, doctor."

Jule nodded.

"And don't let her take no wooden nickels from no boys, either," he chided.

"Daddy!" Kelly groaned.

Wooden. Nickels. Kay. . . Jule didn't want to know. This encounter had been weird enough as it was.

"You know I love you, Pumpkin," Daddy grinned at the vidcomm, revealing exactly who Kelly had inherited her pearly whites from.

Definitely time to get out of this conversation. Jule glanced at Kelly. "Well, Mr. Geist," she said, "we need to get settled in and ready for jump." She cut off the man's protest with a quick smile. "We don't want to run up your comm bill any more. I'll make sure Kelly texts you as soon as we get to Damara. Rook out."

[lfraser]

What an interesting exercise. I just scrolled through my WIP and in the entire 200 pages of it I have very few pages of dialogue that is just dialogue, unlike most of the examples given above. Most of my dialogue takes place within a fair amount of narrative, such as:

“Riegert and his men seem to know this place,” Marten said, “And they’ve got us this far. Though I confess I am baffled.” He looked up at the cliff face. “This does seem to be a dead end. Perhaps they mean us to climb.”

“Climb?” Jerrod swung again but the tent peg budged barely a finger’s width in the frozen dirt. “With what, our bare hands? I told you. I said coming up here without proper climbing gear was folly. He’s a bloody fool, this flatlander. No mountain sense. And fools we were to leave our gear back at home, orders or no. Bugger it.” he added, as the peg skittered out from under his hammer. “Rock and more buggering rock and nowhere to set a tent.” He threw down the hammer and stalked off towards the cookfire.

That was actually the last two paragraphs I wrote today, finished about half an hour ago, so my apologies for its raw state.

[JohnDavidPaxton]

“What did he look like?” Max repeated with a vicious tone.

“I don’t know,” Jay conceded weakly.

“I thought you said you had a conversation with him.”

“I did.”

“And I thought you said you had it right here, in the plain sunlight.”

“We did.”

“And you couldn’t see his face?”

“No.”

“Was he wearing a mask? Did he have a hood on?”

“No.”

“What was he wearing?”

“Gray.”

“What color were his eyes?”

“I don’t know.”

“What accent did he speak with?”

“I don’t know,” Jay whispered, his eyes moving to the floor.

[JoNightshade]

Can I play? :) Dinner table scene. At the moment Tim can't see.

Roger rang the bell.

Timothy looked around, startled. “What was that?”

“Owen will take you to bed.”

“What? No, I’m fine. I’m not even sleepy.”

“You passed out on your dinner plate.”

“I took a nap. I’m rested now.”

“You’re exhausted.” Roger glanced up as Owen came into the room. “Take him. And make sure he eats… something.”

“Yes, sir.” Owen touched Timothy’s arm.

Timothy shrugged away. “Dad, come on! I want to stay. I wanna talk to Ellie. She’s nice. Ellie, don’t you want me to—”

Roger brought his fist down on the edge of the table, jarring the china. “Timothy!” he roared. “Go to your room!”

Ellie swallowed and concentrated on her plate.

“Okay, okay.” Timothy let Owen help him to his feet. “Um… g’night, Ellie.”

“Good night, Timothy.”

“Sorry about the… sorry.”

“It’s all right. Please get some rest.”

[Azraelsbane]

Sigh...now I have to change one of my MC's name from Luke!!

Why? Luke is a good name. :D Though my char's name really isn't Luke. It's just his nickname.

[JoNightshade]

Don't worry about changing names. I have an Ellie and an Owen, both character names that have appeared in other posts in this thread alone.

[Shadow_Ferret]

3 convos at a time? Hmm. Let's try this one. My characters are hanging around in space in a different dimension. It's an urban fantasy, life support is contained by magic.


"Um, dad?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"Don't look now but there's a big, fat, ugly thing right behind you."

Before I could look, the thing said, "Who are you calling fat?"

A small, chubby, pink creature flitted into view hovering on stubby bat-like wings. It had a pushed-in snout and tiny sunken red eyes hidden under an overhanging brow. Small pointed ears on top of its head rotated nervously from front to back like ship's radar. It was Benitog, our missing imp friend. And I use the term friend very loosely.

"You, fatso," Kali replied.

"When are you going to learn some manners? When is she going to learn some manners?"

"When pigs fly! Oh wait. You already do." She stuck out her tongue.

Benitog laughed and flew in by Kali and rubbed her head. "How's it going, kid?"

"Just hangin' around."

"Yeah, I can see that." He tapped his chin with one of his toes. "Is there something different about you, boss?"

"Besides the sunburn?" I answered.

"Yeah."

"No."

"Oh. So what gives, boss? Why you here?"

"We had a run in with a nasty, and I'm contemplating my next move. Why are you here?"

Benitog looked embarrassed. His pink hide took on an even deeper red. "Well, I was bothering this kid, see? Just having fun with her. You know, a little pea soup, a little head spinning. That was all. Nothing major. Next thing I knows they've got this priest, a good one, and he's performing an exorcism and before I can say, 'Mephistopheles,' he banishes me here!"

"Loser," Kali chimed in.

"Hey! I don't have to take that from you. I don't have to take that from her, do I?"

My cell phone rang.

We all looked at each other and I raised my finger. "Hold that thought."

[Lizbeth0925FL]

I don't know if this fits, but I will post one with three people with a extra one thrown in at the very end.

“Sure I can’t give you a little hand there?” he inquired, stepping in between them and the car. His unexpected reappearance made Celia jump and David come out of his drunken daze enough to start talking to the man again.

“There you are! This is Ce.” David repeated to the man and tilted toward Celia, making her struggle to maintain the balance for both of them. He put his lips on the top of her head and made a loud, exaggerated kissing sound. “I told you she looked like an angle, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and that is no lie” the man agreed, and put his arm around David, shifting his weight off of Celia as she tried to dig the car keys out of her pocket.

While the man still made her uneasy, she was grateful for the relief of David’s heavy body off of her shoulders for the moment.

“Thank you” she told him politely, unlocking the passenger door and opening it so she could try to pour David inside it.

“Glad to be of assistance” he told her as he admired the way she moved. I bet she is a wild one, he thought to himself, under that cool, distant exterior.

“I’ll take him from here” Celia said, as she turned to move David into the car.

“Nonsense” the man told her, pushed past her and easily got David into the car in a matter of seconds.

Celia had to admit, he accomplished it in a lot less time and with a lot more finesse than she would have been able to manage. David sat back in the reclined seat and closed his eyes with the silly smile of the very drunk.

“Dissss is nice” he mumbled.

Celia put her fingers against her closed eyes and shook her head. She silently thanked God she only had to do this once each year. David never touched a drop of alcohol any other day. Only on the day that would have been his wedding anniversary.

“That should do it” he stood back up and turned to look at Celia.

“I want to thank you. I also want to apologize for being so abrupt earlier” she said as the man shut the car door behind him.

“No problem, maybe you can make it up to me.” He took a step in her direction.

Her eyes caught the little glint in his eyes, and his meaning.

Celia’s initial uneasiness about this man had now risen to the level of nervousness, and was just one small step away from alarm. Unfortunately, she knew, David would be of no help to her in his current state. Carefully she tried to move around the man and to the back of the car. She caught the scent of the whiskey still strong on his breath.

“Just right now I think I should get David home.” She replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “And I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that too much.” She added, hoping her little lie sounded convincing.

The man put his arm out, placing it against the trunk of the car in front of her and blocking her path. “I don’t believe your brother there ever mentioned you having a boyfriend” he said and placed his other arm against the trunk, trapping her in between them.

She now realized his first comment to her inside the bar, must have been his way of feeling her out, and she had fallen right into the snare. Obviously the man had already known David was not her boyfriend; and there was no telling what else David may have said to this man while the alcohol affected his mind.

“Well, maybe he just didn’t get that far. But I do, and he is around here somewhere.” Celia stated nervously and looked around toward the bar.

The man leaned in closer to her; the smell of the whiskey on him was now strong enough to burn her eyes.

“I don’t believe you.” He told her unwaveringly.

“You don’t believe I have a boyfriend? Or you just don’t believe that he is here?” She asked, trying to stall and leaning back against the car a little further away from the man.

“Either one” he said to her and leaned in closer, as she leaned away.

“Hey darlin’, there you are!” a deep voice familiar to Celia, but with an unfamiliar country twang, spoke from behind the man.

“Sorry ‘bout takin’ so long, but I got ta lookin around the store, and just forgot ‘bout the time.”

The man who had been leaning over Celia shot up straight and turned around to see the large figure standing behind him.



I welcome any crits, since this is all so new to me.

[Devil Ledbetter]

Don't worry about changing names. I have an Ellie and an Owen, both character names that have appeared in other posts in this thread alone.I was surprised to see Blacbird has a Saint. I do to, although he's a minor, offstage character.

[mamaeight]

my first post here. Short story about a condemned man's last hour.

“Well, praise the Lord, Jim. Glad to see you can still smile at a time like this. The Devil’s got his foot in it today.”

Jim stood up and shook the Preacher’s offered hand after wiping it on the cot’s blanket.
“Doubt the Devil had much to do with it, Preacher. If he exists, which I doubt, his power is grossly overrated. And it’d be a down right shame for him to get credit for all the creative misery people invent. Best I can see from my point in life is people do just fine creating their own misery.”

It was an old argument, one they had spent many hours hashing over. Saying the words again felt comfortable and eased some of the tension in Jim’s mind, something to think about besides that long walk that was due, barring some miracle, which he really did not believe would happen, in forty-five minutes.

“Could be, could be, but maybe, just maybe you’re underrating him. He’s alive and well and workin’ through these people who are persecutin’ you. If you’d a’trusted in the Lord sooner, you’d be free now. But it’s not too late to save your soul. It’s all you got left, your soul.”

“Hey now, Preacher, we agreed a long time ago to keep the conversation on an intellectual level. If you start preachin’, I’ll call the guard. Only thing I have left is my dignity. If there’s a God, and I hope there is, he’ll have to look at my life and decide for himself what reward or punishment I deserve. I lived by my own rules and I’ll die by them.”

[maestrowork]

Something I wrote this week:


"Tell me something about Japan," Kai said. "What is it like there?"

"It is lovely this time of the year in Kyoto. The palace would be blooming with sakura. My home sits by the Kamo-gawa--"

"Kamo-gawa?"

"Duck River. Every year my sister and I would take a day and stroll along the river, to collect and fill the baskets with sakura flowers. And we would have our red bean cakes. My mother made the best."

"You have a sister?"

"Yes. Sukiyo is about thirteen now."

"My sisters are about the same age. They should be thirteen and eleven this year."

"They're still in Kamasek, the last I heard."

Kai nodded. "Do you know how they are?"

"I'm sorry I don't know much. But your father made deals with the Japanese. He makes sure your sisters are safe. Every time we went into Kamang I tried to find out what I could. I believe your sisters have moved to a factory, making shoes for the Imperial Army."

"I've heard other things."

"What things?"

Kai was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Horrible things. Things you--things done to women, by your army."

Tamato looked at his hands. For a soldier, he had small, delicate hands. Kai did not normally think of Tamato as anything but a sharp Japanese soldier, but he realized Tamato was only two years older than he. Take away his uniforms and rifle, and he would be no less innocent than any village boys Kai had known. He was only a boy. They both were.

"Not all of us are monsters," Tamato said. "You'll have to believe me."

"I believe you. I don't know why, but I do."

"And I thank you."

[pepperlandgirl]

Here's one from the same WIP with 3 people.

“So…Michelle stopped in last night,” Emma said with a smile. “She was sorry she missed you.”

Jesse dropped his toast on his plate. “Why would Michelle come here? Michelle never comes here.”

“She wanted to know about the hospital.” This came from Gideon. “I told her you didn’t want to go.”

Emma reached out a hand to caress Jesse’s arm. “And that’s okay that you don’t want to. We know it’s hard to think about. That’s why we’ve been working so hard, trying to come up with something that’ll help.”

Jesse looked down, sorry he couldn’t just tell them that he would go. But the thought of it still filled his veins with ice water. “I said I would think about it. I wish I knew something else that would help.”

“There is something else.” Emma’s fingers glided across his skin, but he barely felt it. “Michelle and I have been talking. A lot. And reading up on post-traumatic stress disorder. And we both agreed you need to feel like you’re in control again. So Marcus doesn’t have that power of you anymore. Michelle suggested if you had the chance to save Marcus from turning into the monster he did, that might help.”

“It might,” Jesse said slowly. “But…I don’t really see what good that does anybody. Time travel isn’t possible, the last time I checked.”

“No, but apparently, dimension hopping is the sport of champions,” Gideon said dryly.

“Dimension hopping?” Jesse knew what Gideon meant, but it still didn’t make sense. What did dimension hopping have to do with them?

“You go to the point in another dimension before Brooker sold his soul,” Emma provided softly. “Before Mary died.”

Jesse’s eyes widened at the mention of Mary’s name, and the denial sprang to his lips immediately. “No.”

Gideon’s eyes were steady. “Don’t say no because you think you’re protecting me from seeing her again. I wouldn’t have agreed to try this if I couldn’t handle it.”

Jesse shook his head. That wasn’t his concern, but it didn’t surprise him that Gideon didn’t make the obvious assumption. Jesse was not a jealous person, by nature. More than that though, he had never doubted Gideon or his place in Gideon’s world.

“It’s not…it’s not that. It’s…” He looked to Emma helplessly. She would understand. She would have understood even if she wasn’t picking up on his feelings.

“He’s afraid,” she said softly.

“Of what?” Gideon leaned forward. “I’m going with you, Jess. You’re not doing this alone. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I won’t let them.”

“Yeah, I figured you probably were going with me.” Jesse fiddled with the plate in front of him. “But you’re going with me to save the woman you love…loved…from death, and that sort of second chance never happens, does it?”

[Julie Worth]

Shouldn't this thread be moved to share your work?

[preyer]

'Most of my dialogue takes place within a fair amount of narrative, such as:' ~ a bit off topic, but i think it's interesting to note the different style. for example, i try not to have as much narrative during dialogue as some people do. for me, i'm looking to see if my narrative is killing the pace of the dialogue (not saying yours is).

[swvaughn]

Shouldn't this thread be moved to share your work?

Nah. We're not critting, just looking at different examples of dialogue.

It's ed-joo-cay-shun-al. :D

[Esopha]

Ha! I found one with three people. Warning: this excerpt contains first-draft suckiness.

---------

"Ugh," Glenys said.

"Don't like fish?" Liza asked, eyeing the druid.

"Must be the tree talking," Glenys said, laughing. "I used to eat fish."

"But not anymore."

"No, it's strictly water and minerals for me." Kevin watched as she lowered herself off of the bank and into a deep pool of water.

"Glenys," he said, a thought occurring to him, "if you keep this up, do you think you're going to turn back into a person?"

She seemed to consider this. "I'm not a person now?"

"No, you're a tree," Liza said, starting on her third fish.

"That's not what I meant," Glenys said.

"I know what you meant," Liza growled, just loud enough so Kevin could hear her.

"I meant arms and stuff," Kevin said.

"Oh. That." Glenys shrugged. "I don't know. Possibly. It would be exciting. It's hard not being able to remember anything."

"I imagine so," Liza muttered.

[swvaughn]

'Most of my dialogue takes place within a fair amount of narrative, such as:' ~ a bit off topic, but i think it's interesting to note the different style. for example, i try not to have as much narrative during dialogue as some people do. for me, i'm looking to see if my narrative is killing the pace of the dialogue (not saying yours is).

I think the amount of narrative within dialogue is one of the things that defines a writer's style. It also seems to be somewhat consistent within genres -- for example, many literary works contain heavier dialogue narration, and many thrillers have good chunks of quick back-and-forth.

(This is a generalization, BTW. I'm not picking on genres.)

[Shadow_Ferret]

Shouldn't this thread be moved to share your work?
Not really. It's like the Last Paragraph Written, Best Line Written, et cetera threads that exist here.

But I'm not a mod, nor do I play one on TV.

[CaroGirl]

Here's a bit of dialogue from my wip:

“Holy shit. I wonder what’s up with that guy?” Char scraped the bone of a pork chop from one plate to another.

“What the heck do you mean?” asked Jerome. “He looks like an ordinary guy to me.”

“He ain’t ordinary, I can tell you that much.”

“What makes you say he isn’t, Char?” asked Tully.

“I seen guys like him before,” Char pointed her sharp chin at the closed door. “He’s trouble.”

“You stupid anorexic snot-nosed cow,” said Jerome, pausing to allow his string of insults to properly sink in. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Shut up, Jerome, you sack of monkey worms.”

“Monkey worms? You suck. What does that even mean?”

Char lowered her head and glanced at each of us and then at the back of the living room door. We huddled closer, responding to her drama. “I think we should be careful, that’s all.”

[preyer]

so, basically, here are some of the most common variations:

"dialogue."

"dialogue," tag.

"dialogue," tag, narration.

"dialogue," tag, narration. "dialogue."

action/narration, "dialogue."

action/narration. "dialogue."

action/narration, "dialogue," tag.

action/narration. "dialogue," tag.

"dialogue." action/narration. "dialogue."

"dialogue." narration. "dialogue." narration.

"dia," tag, "logue."

i'm implying here that the speaker is either obvious or the narration/action indicates who the speaker is. for me, that's a pretty basic run-down of most variations.

[PeeDee]

Okay, here's a random bit from Chapter one of the novel I'm working on now. Enjoy. Or not. Up to you.

----

“We’re out at open sea, aren’t we?” Thracius said, and he had his answer from the way she paused in her work. He went on, “I know that we are. Will you tell me where this ship is bound?”


In the dim red glow, she shook her head.


“I would know where my captors are taking me!”


“They aren’t your captors, and you don’t need to know. Not yet.”


He tried to muster the strength to sit up and grab her, to demand an answer, but he knew it wouldn’t work. It would waste what precious little energy he had, the bits of sense and strength that felt like they were slowly regathering themselves in his body.


Dimly, he wondered why there was a woman on a ship. The Captain may have been a foreigner, but this woman spoke like someone born and raised near Rome itself, much like Thracius himself was. And no matter how foreign Akim may have been, having a woman aboard a ship was considered bad luck. Sailors were sailors the world over, and that much held true.


“Who are you?” He asked again.


“I am taking care of you,” she said.


Then, she stood up and leaned over him. She kissed him gently on the cheek, soft lips pressing against the rough stubble.


“Rest, Thracius,” she said quietly.
---

[Sassee]

Woops... I ran off 2 hours ago to look for a scene with more than 2 peeps and my A.D.D. kicked in. Where was I? Ah, yes. Here's one with 4 peeps :)

O’Connor, now in human form, cursed and pounded the grass with his fist. “We almost had ‘im!”

“That trap almost worked,” Damien said. “Rather brilliant, actually.”

I looked back and forth between the three guys. “This whole thing was the trap? You planned for them to get me alone?”

No one answered me. That was as good as a yes.

“You bastards. Inconsiderate, reckless bastards!” I stood and backed away. “Any one of us could have been killed. You’re supposed to stop the killings, not add to them!” My voice started cracking, but I was beyond angry. “And you let me go with, with him, to be the bait. You practically put me on a silver platter! I could have died!”

“You wouldn’t have been seriously hurt,” Damien reassured me. “That was sort of the point in me being in the room with you.”

“I can’t believe this. What gives any of you the right to think you can use me as bait and not even tell me what’s going on?”

Fark glared. “I asked if you wanted to be a part of this trap. You agreed. I didn’t tell you the plan so you couldn’t give it away.”

“But you could have given me, oh I don’t know, a general idea of how fucking dangerous this was going to be?!” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Calm down, I told myself. Everyone’s alive. Everyone except those three alphas in Damien’s house, and they tried to kill you.

Why did that not reassure me?

“Look, can I just go home now? Please?”

The three of them looked at each other. Damien nodded. “The dorm, or Micah’s house?” he asked.

Lana. “Micah’s house.” If the rogue couldn’t get to me directly, he’d go for the next best thing. Which also meant… “Can one of you go get Ashlee, too? I’d feel better if we were all in the same place tonight.”

They nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Fark stood and walked up to me. He looked worried. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah,” I said, “we do.”

[ZannaPerry]

Fresh from my notebook: --the ink is still sticky!
-----------------

"Someone called Angie's cell phone." Sheriff Slater looked up from the small, pacted phone in his hand. "Around midnight. Court? Do you remember Emma Daniel?"

Court shot the sheriff a smoldering, death stare.

"Emma Daniel? Wasn't she a friend of yours, Court?" Mac asked, turning his back on him and asked the sheriff to see the cell phone.

"Angie's. Never mine." Court growled, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

"That's a little dramatic." Deputy Yates said, his comment doing nothing to the already stale air amongst the men.

"Do you think Angie tried to contact her before--" Slater said, but Court didn't let him finish.

"Why would she? Angie hasn't brought up that woman's name since the night she left."

"And that gives us more reason to call Ms. Daniel. See why she called here in the middle of the night out of the blue." Slater took the phone from Mac, and started to turn around but Court stepped in front of him.

"I don't want to involve her."

"Why?" Yates asked, more curious than ever.

"She has a right to know Angie's dead," Slater said, staring Court right in the eye.

"Don't call her, Slater." Court said with an edge of a threat to his voice.

"Maybe she knows if--" Yates said, but Court grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and twisted his fist in the material to cut off his air.

"Angie killed herself." Court brought Yates' face closer. "What ifs don't mean shit to me." He released the young deputy. "And neither does that woman."

"Malone, you don't get a vote in this." Slater said, breaking into the dead silence of night. "Whether she was calling to catch up on old times, or not. I have to call her back. Maybe she knows something we don't." For the second time he turned to leave again, but heard Court say anyway...

"She won't help you. You'll be wasting your time."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Yates followed his sheriff. "Or maybe loving hubby who's never home is trying to hide something. And old friend, Emma Daniel, was onto him. Trying to warn the wife."

Slater took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "For once, Jordan, I don't want to throw you in jail for your out there accusations because you might be right."
_______________

Not as detailed as I wanted it to be but..................this was just a tag topic!

[Ziljon]

SuzyB, I know this is fresh, but you have an awful lot of periods where commas should be... I corrected the false periods to commas in blue below.

Fresh from my notebook: --the ink is still sticky!
-----------------

"Someone called Angie's cell phone." Sheriff Slater looked up from the small, pacted phone in his hand. "Around midnight. Court? Do you remember Emma Daniel?"

Court shot the sheriff a smoldering, death stare.

"Emma Daniel? Wasn't she a friend of yours, Court?" Mac asked, turning his back on him and asked the sheriff to see the cell phone.

"Angie's. Never mine," Court growled, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

"That's a little dramatic," Deputy Yates said, his comment doing nothing to the already stale air amongst the men.

"Do you think Angie tried to contact her before?" Slater said, but Court didn't let him finish.

"Why would she? Angie hasn't brought up that woman's name since the night she left."

"And that gives us more reason to call Ms. Daniel. See why she called here in the middle of the night out of the blue." Slater took the phone from Mac, and started to turn around but Court stepped in front of him.

"I don't want to involve her."

"Why?" Yates asked, more curious than ever.

"She has a right to know Angie's dead," Slater said, staring Court right in the eye.

"Don't call her, Slater," Court said with an edge of a threat to his voice.

"Maybe she knows if--" Yates said, but Court grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and twisted his fist in the material to cut off his air.

"Angie killed herself." Court brought Yates' face closer. "What ifs don't mean shit to me." He released the young deputy. "And neither does that woman."

"Malone, you don't get a vote in this," Slater said, breaking into the dead silence of night. "Whether she was calling to catch up on old times, or not. I have to call her back. Maybe she knows something we don't." For the second time he turned to leave again, but heard Court say anyway...

"She won't help you. You'll be wasting your time."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Yates followed his sheriff. "Or maybe loving hubby who's never home is trying to hide something. And old friend, Emma Daniel, was onto him. Trying to warn the wife."

Slater took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "For once, Jordan, I don't want to throw you in jail for your out there accusations because you might be right."
_______________

Not as detailed as I wanted it to be but..................this was just a tag topic!

[PeeDee]

When to suppress her artistic vision. Gawd...

[ZannaPerry]

Oh, you're my writing guardian angel!!!

And it was from fresh from the page so double scratch crap basically.

[maestrowork]

Here's one with four people speaking:


The sound of gunshots jolted Kai awake. He bolted up from his cot, blinked his eyes, trying to see through the darkness around him. The other men roused as well. Kai leaned by the entrance and lifted the flap slightly. There was no one out there.

Another shot.

"What in the deepest Hell?" Juen said.

"Maybe someone finally come and rescue us," Yusef said in the shadow.

Two more shots.

"Not too far from here," Kai said. "Maybe about a quarter mile?"

"Five hundred yards at most," Ching-Zu said. "Just outside the camp."

"What do you see?" Juen said.

"Nothing, not a damn thing," Kai said. "Where are all the soldiers?"

Yusef peeked out. "Are they doing target practice now?"

"It's four in the morning."

Men at the other tents poked their heads out as well. Kai could not see much else in the faint light.

"The Japanese are gone," Yusef said. "Maybe it's a good time to escape this hell hole."

"It's probably a trap," Ching-Zu said, "so they can target practice on us."

Kai pulled Juen up and let him lean on his back. They began to leave the tent when sirens wailed. Suddenly, soldiers appeared around them, seemingly coming from nowhere, guns and rifles in their hands.

Two spotlights blinded them. Kai covered his eyes with a hand and squinted.

"What in the deepest Hell?" Juen said.

"It's not like we haven't heard gunfire before."

"Not like this, in the middle of the night. Something is going on."

A few soldiers came over and started yelling at the men. One yelled in broken English: "Get back. Get back."

All Kai could see were shadows against the two bright spotlights. Then he heard another shot. The night and the men froze as the echo trailed off.

"They are hunting," Juen whispered.

"Hunting what?"

His brother holding on to his shoulders and back, Kai listened to the sounds of activities around them as more soldiers returned and ushered the men back into their tents.

And then Kai understood.

They were hunting a man. Someone had escaped.

[Sage]

Four people talking here.

-----

"Put down the gun. He's not Sam."

"Am too," Sam protested.

I shot him a look. "Not. Helping." I stepped in front of the gun. "He's Samuel, not Samael. Are you going to shoot me to get to a kid you've mistaken for someone else?"

"Step out of the way and I won't have to."

Yama's voice cut into the tension, a literal voice of reason. "Why don't you start with where he came from? How did he get here? We'll go from there."

"I-- I'm from a parallel universe," Sam said.

"Still not helping, Sam." I turned to Yama, keeping Sean's gun in my peripheral vision. "Micki and Tuoni are looking into that right now. The where. And the how." I hoped he would make the connection without commenting further on it. I didn't want to let Sam know where he had really come from. To find out that you weren't real, that would drive anyone mad. And one insane Sam was more than enough for a lifetime.

Yama considered my words for a moment, then said calmly, "Sean, put down the gun."

"But--"

"Will you shoot an innocent human being?"

Sean lowered the weapon. "Is that what he is? Because I seem to remember that he's a--"

"Sean!" My shout caught his attention enough that he finally met my eyes. Most humans shrunk away from eye contact with an A.D. but not Sean. Still my hard gaze had made an impact, I could tell. "You're going to have to trust me."

"I would love to, but you don't exactly have the best instincts when it comes to your brother."

"All the same, I'm asking you to back down." He didn't move, but I saw it all the same. His resolve weakened just a bit. "Would you give me the gun?"

"I think I'll keep it on me." He holstered the weapon, and I let it go. As compromises went, this was probably the best I'd made all day. He glared past me at Sam. "If he makes one wrong move, I won't hesitate to use it." He turned and marched out of the room.

[ottorino]

“Yo, Vic, what it is?” It was Plexico, the big bouncer of the VIP room.

“Plexy, my man! Howz da bizzness doonite? Zalöta hat ladeez, nodoubt! Zat weet zing, miz Biel, zarrive zit?”

Plexico gave me a blank stare and I realized I had used my chick-speak on him rather than my pure hip-hop. This was sometimes a problem when moving between crowds as frequently and fluently (usually), as I did. I smiled and laid it on him in hip-hop.

“My man, Plexico. Dat bitch,Biel, shupp yet?”

“Yo, snap!” he laughed, “What da fuck? Shit dat bitch is hot! Check it out my man.” And he opened the rope to let me pass, because there, in a sleeveless gown and glowing like the jewel of the ocean, was perfection herself. I actually had a movie moment and felt like I was on some sort of skid sliding toward her as the room was spinning around me.

Then I got dizzy, burped, stifled it, did a little half-vomit, and had to swallow it back.

[megan_d]

“Hi Clarissa,” said William, watching Lilitree’s retreating back with no small amount of envy.

“William,” she said, “how’s things?”

This was how Clarissa started every conversation with him. All casual like, as though they both didn’t know exactly what she was up to.

“Things are fine,” said William. “We caught up with Kevin Copeland today.”

“Oh yeah?” Said Clarissa, “you and Lilitree and, uh, anyone else?”

“Just me and Lilitree,” said William.

“Oh,” said Clarissa.

“He wouldn’t cooperate, so Lilitree pushed him off a roof.”

“That sounds like Lilitree,” said Clarissa.

“Yeah,” said William.

One thing he had learned while spending so much time with her, was that he and Clarissa really didn’t have a whole lot in common. She was a Justin Timberlake fan, for crying out loud.

“Where’s uh, Chris and Jeff and the others?” Asked William.

“Sleeping,” said Clarissa. “We had a big night last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

__________________________________________________ ___

I know I use their names a lot 'said William' and 'said Clarissa,' it's an intentional thing. I'm playing around a lot with repition throughout the whole MS.

[SpookyWriter]

Uh ... thanks, Spooky? :D

This is kinda ripped from the middle of a chapter, so yeah, it probably doesn't make much sense by itself. And thanks for the crit. :)

So where's your dialogue? 'Tis what this thread is for!
I plucked this at random from my wip:

-----------------------


The two men pocketed another mouthful of roast beef into their mouths and smiled. Megan almost squeezed Ryan’s hand too hard until he quipped. “Megan. Let go of my hand.”

She heard Betsy laugh. The cottage giggle reminded Megan of a horse when it made those funny whining sounds. She tightened her grip once more on Ryan’s hand until he pulled back.

“Boys. What nonsense. Let these poor children eat without your stories.”

David eased to the left and tapped Ryan’s shoulder. He wanted to remind him to keep quiet until he had a chance to talk. The dinner table grew quiet as Betsy swept the broken glass into a dustpan. She straightened and walked back into the kitchen. David caught the dire look on Megan’s face.

“She’s friendly enough.” Roy said.

“Yes, I think so too. Maybe she can tell us where to find the sheriff?” David said.

Bardy raised the glass of milk up to his eyes. He peered at David and then whispered to Roy as though nobody noticed.

[melaniehoo]

In this scene, Ibis just found out his mother was dying and locked himself out of the apartment while on the phone. Andy brought him to Melanie's office to get the keys.

- - - - -

I ran outside when they arrived, my thoughts tumbling over each other. Ibis took the keys from me as Andy and I said our hellos.

"I have to go back." Ibis looked up at me from the car window. "I don't know what you want to do, but I have to go. Today."

Today? "Do you have to go today? Did they say how much time she has?"

"I don't know. I just know I have to get there..." he trailed off. "I think I'm going to drive there, I'll leave tonight."

"You're going to drive?" Andy and I both said, our unison voices unintentionally mocking him.

"Wait, wait, Ibis, I don't think you should drive," Andy continued while my useless mouth hung open. Thank god our voice of reason is here. Even if Ibis won't listen to me, he listens to Andy. I tried to think of something rational to say, something to keep him from leaving right then and there.

"Besides," Andy reasoned, "it'll take you at least three days to drive there. If you don't know how long she has left you're better off flying."

Thank you Andy.

"Can we wait until this weekend? Then I can go with you. I can look up flights this afternoon." My eyes pleaded with him. "Please, don't do anything until I get home."

"You don't have to come with me."

"I am coming with you. I want to go with you. So please just wait for me and we'll figure this out tonight."

Ibis looked more defeated than convinced, but Andy nodded that he'd take him home.

[spacejock2]

‘I have some fresh crime figures.’

‘Wonderful. Anything else?’ Walsh saw Bernie's hurt expression and relented. The robot lived for statistics. ‘Okay, okay. Update me.’

Bernie turned the page, almost destroying it with her thick fingers. ‘Murders are well down this month, while instances of burglary—’

‘Wait a minute. Down from what? We’ve never had a murder.’

‘Last month’s baseline figure was zero,’ admitted Bernie. ‘However, this month someone confessed to an uncommitted crime, so technically the count stands at minus one.’

Walsh sighed. ‘And the burglaries?’

‘Two purse thefts from the beach.’

‘Really? In broad daylight?’

‘Late evening, just after high tide. The following morning both purses were returned untouched, although a trifle damp.

Walsh suppressed a smile. ‘Anything else missing?’

‘Two towels.’ Bernie checked her notes. ‘And a paperback book.’

‘All of which turned up sopping wet the following morning?’

‘They’ve yet to find the book.’

‘Was it a bestseller?’

‘Is that relevant?’

‘Sure. The rest usually sink without a trace.’ Walsh glanced at her watch. ‘If you’ve finished your report, I really need to call someone.’

‘By all means.’ Bernie turned to leave, then hesitated. ‘May I recharge now? Assembling your coffee severely drained my batteries.’

--

From Hal Spacejock: No Free Lunch, my WIP.

[MelodyO]

Four characters, not including the zombie. :D


“No, no, no, no!” Jane said to Maion, her voice climbing from alto to soprano. “You did not just pack a zombie into the back of my van.”

Maion heaved the sword out of the ground one-handed. “I am so sorry Jane, but I cannot kill him.”

“You killed the other one,” Xaphan reminded her.

“This one was different. He was...he was...”

“He was trying to eat your brains, hello!” Jane shouted.

“He was defending himself at the end, just like I was.”

The zombie chose that moment to hurl himself at the back doors several times in a row, making the entire van shake. “You have got to get him out of there.” Jane carefully enunciated every word.

Maion crossed her arms. “I am not going to do that.” She didn’t apologize this time.

“Maion, what has gotten into you?” Azreal asked, truly bewildered. He could feel a black inkblot of pain spreading just behind his eyes. He hoped it wasn’t a malignant tumor.

Her expression softened. “I am doing what I think is right. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

“But – isn’t he already dead?”

Off in the distance, the wail of sirens floated toward them.

“Oh, that is just perfect,” Jane snarled. “Get in the van. All of you.”

“What’s happening?” Maion's sword was back in fight mode.

“The cops are coming, and I can’t let them find me at the scene of a crime, all right? Unless you want to explain to them how you cut off that guy’s head with your freaking sword from heaven? No? Then get in the van.”

[preyer]

“Yeah,” said William.

One thing he had learned while spending so much time with her, was that he and Clarissa really didn’t have a whole lot in common. She was a Justin Timberlake fan, for crying out loud.

“Where’s uh, Chris and Jeff and the others?” Asked William.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

i pulled that section out because it interested me from the standpoint that sometimes your omniscient narrator is a character, too, and it's almost like you have to make room for their dialogue, also.

in maestro's example of four people talking, notice how often you have to almost rely on 'so-and-so said.' i don't think a four-way conversation is very advisable for very long ~ to me it seems you'd very quickly fall into repetitious ways of indicating who your character was and that would get tedious to read after a page or two.

i know a lot of writers like to think their character's speech is evidence in itself as to who's speaking, and in idiomatic speech it might be if it differs enough from everyone else's, so let me ask this: are most writers mostly kidding themselves when it comes to this, or do you as a reader think that you could pick out a line of just dialogue from a book and immediately know who the character is? on average, i mean.

[melaniehoo]

i know a lot of writers like to think their character's speech is evidence in itself as to who's speaking, and in idiomatic speech it might be if it differs enough from everyone else's, so let me ask this: are most writers mostly kidding themselves when it comes to this, or do you as a reader think that you could pick out a line of just dialogue from a book and immediately know who the character is? on average, i mean.

I worry about that with my story. I'm writing first POV and the MC is very talkative while her husband is not. The majority of the dialogue is between the two of them so I include fewer tags during those conversations. It's clear to me but I know I'll have to check that on edits.

I have the added trick that my story takes place in Mexico but is written in English. I'm skipping the translations back and forth (MC speaks English so husband translates) just indicating it happens with the husband looking to the spanish speaker. In effect I have three-person conversations without the third person speaking.

[SpookyWriter]

I have the added trick that my story takes place in Mexico but is written in English.Have you ever read a story by a guy "Robert Jordan" who resides in Spain during the Spanish civil war?

ETA: The protagonist was Robert Jordan and the book was "For whom the bell tolls." just to avoid confustion.

I like the word confustion. I think it's a hybrid of confusion and combustion.

[JJ Cooper]

The old man leaned over the edge of his balcony and looked down onto Jay. “For a spy, you sure are noisy, Jay.”

It was easier to ignore the jovial comment than to explain to his father’s neighbour that he wasn’t a spy. Not really. “Hi, Mr Hunter. Hope I didn’t wake you. I know how much you need your beauty sleep.”

“Funny little bugger, aren’t you? No you didn’t wake me. Girls have been running up and down the fence barking all night.” He indicated toward the fence that separated the properties, the smoke of his cigar curled toward the night sky. “This is the first time they’ve stopped. Don’t suppose your Dad went and got himself a cat did he?”

Jay looked along his side of the fence. “Doubt it. Not unless he got one just to shit-stir you.”

Mr Hunter chuckled but didn’t respond.

“Did Dad make it to the game today?” Jay asked.

“Nope, you both stood me up. I’m used to you having no manners and dropping out at the last minute. Not like your old man though.”

“Yeah sorry, I was…tied up with work. What about Dad? Did he say why he couldn’t make it?”

He took a sip of his coffee and chugged on the cigar before replying. “Nope. Inconsiderate too I might add, considering it was his turn to bring the beers. I threw a few things at his house but he didn’t come out. Must be back in the spy game, hey?”

“Look, Mr Hunter, how many times do I have to tell you that Dad wasn’t a spy and I’m not one either?”

“Yeah so you both keep telling me. I wasn’t born yesterday you know. And I do know a bit about the game.”

“I know, I know. As a dashing young agent you were instrumental in securing the defection of Russian spy Validmir Petrov and his wife to Australia. ‘Operation Cabin 12’ wasn’t it?”

“You bet your ass I was instrumental. Practically ran the whole operation.”

It wasn’t true.

[Lisamer]

As we walked through the bustling streets of Buenos Aires, Damien turned to me and asked, “What’s with all these blondes? Hard to believe we’re in South America.”
“Nazi kids and grandparents,” I answered.
“You're kidding. You think Tante Sylvie came here to hunt Nazis?”
“Ya’ never know with her.” I laughed. “But I did hear her whispering to someone on the phone last night. The name ‘Simon’ came up. Maybe she’s working with Wiesenthal.”
“But as a member of La Résistance, why would Sylvie idolize a Nazi supporter?” Damien was perplexed.
“Look in the dictionary for the definition of "oxymoron." I replied. “As an example, it will say "logical Sylvie Savan."



A few paragraphs of narative follow. Then this:
When we got back to her place, Sylvie advised us to take a nap, because that evening, she was taking us to a Tango club to meet her latest lover, a professional tango dancer named Eduardo.
Damien was excited. “Mar, let me do your hair so you can look like Evita.”
“Why do I want to do that?”
‘So that you can attract some of those hot Latin guys.”
“And?” I coaxed.
“Oh, all right,” he confessed. “Maybe the hot Latin guy will have a friend that would be interested in your handsome big brother.”
“Damien, let’s not do the Summer and Smoke thing again, okay? It's really getting old.”

[Elodie-Caroline]

This is a small conversation from the novel that I am querying at the moment.

"Samantha laughed. He went and sat next to her and glanced at her cigarette. ‘Smoking all those cigarettes will make you have less years in this life.’

‘Oh well.’ She shrugged. ‘Better the fags kill me than Jeffrey, I suppose.’

‘He will not kill you, I will not let that happen to you, ever, do you understand?’

‘Yes sir.’ She turned and faced him. ‘I was only joking you know.’

He rested his hands on his stomach, looked at her and raised his eyebrows. ‘Why do you laugh at things that are so terrible?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know? I’ve always done it, it’s like my safety valve I suppose. If I laugh about horrible things, they don’t seem as frightening to me any more.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I understand that logic. How is your arm?’

‘It hurts like buggery.’

He frowned and glanced at her. ‘What is buggery?’"



Elodie

[spacejock2]

i know a lot of writers like to think their character's speech is evidence in itself as to who's speaking, and in idiomatic speech it might be if it differs enough from everyone else's, so let me ask this: are most writers mostly kidding themselves when it comes to this, or do you as a reader think that you could pick out a line of just dialogue from a book and immediately know who the character is? on average, i mean.


I look at vocabulary and the amount of energy in each characters speech too. Someone who is laconic won't get excited! and talk! in short exclamations!

(For example, imagine a breathless teen, an elderly professor and a plumber. Surely you could write their dialogue without tags, and still follow who was speaking most of the time?)

[Julie Worth]

Nah. We're not critting, just looking at different examples of dialogue.

It's ed-joo-cay-shun-al. :D

In SYW, excerpts won't show up on Google, and won't be considered published.

[maestrowork]

In SYW, excerpts won't show up on Google, and won't be considered published.

These are all excerpts. No one is going to consider a snippet of dialogue of WIPs "publication."

Everyone, excellent examples.

[maestrowork]

Here's one with few dialogue tags (from the first chapter of my WIP):


Two girls snickered as Grace sneaked past one of the maids’ quarters. One of them uttered Kai’s name. She stopped, then hunkered down and hid behind a large potted ornamental tea tree. Leaning close to the window and keeping her breath slight, she listened.

“Oh, you’re rotten,” a girl said in Malay. Four years in the country had taught Grace well.

“Like you didn’t think that way.”

“I feel bad for him.”

“You like him.”

“I do not.”

“Please. You want to have his babies.”

“You are rotten.” The girls giggled.

“So what did you hear?”

“About what?”

“What happened this evening.”

“Oh, you mean--” The other girl hushed her. “I don’t know.”

“But I do.”

“Really?”

“Really. Ang told me.”

“How did she know? I thought she was with that red-haired ferringhi.”

“Ang knows everything. She just doesn’t tell everyone.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I listened.”

The other girl laughed. “You evil. Ang didn’t tell you. You eavesdropped on her.”

“Tuang was speaking to her. Oh, it was so scandalous I couldn’t help it.”

“Tell me, tell me.”

“What are you going to give me?”

“You evil.”

“You want to know or not?”

“Someone will tell me eventually.”

“Maybe.”

The other girl was quiet for a second. “All right. I want to know. I will give you this.”

They giggled again. Grace got furious. She was about to jump in and shake them when the second girl said, “it was a horrible disease.”

“The influenza?”

“No, no. Far worse. But no one knew about it. No one was supposed to, except the doctor. But paper cannot hold fire.”

“So what is it?”

The other girl whispered something.

Her mate let out a loud gasp. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, yes. That was what I heard Ang say.”

“I don’t even know what it is, but I know it is bad.”

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“Anyone?”

“Anyone. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

They giggled again, and then went on gossiping about another maid named Mei-Wah.

[maestrowork]

I know I use their names a lot 'said William' and 'said Clarissa,' it's an intentional thing. I'm playing around a lot with repition throughout the whole MS.

Why intentional? What do you try to accomplish here? Why such repetition?

With only two people speaking, you really don't need all the "said he" and "said she" especially if the dialogue is continuous. You don't even need to say "said she" after you resume the dialogue with a "said he" because we understand who is speaking (since there are only two people).

So I am curious what you try to accomplish by intentionally using a lot of "said"s...

[maestrowork]

i pulled that section out because it interested me from the standpoint that sometimes your omniscient narrator is a character, too, and it's almost like you have to make room for their dialogue, also.


Why did you say there was an omniscient narrator? And why would the narrator have dialogue? I'm not sure if I follow... In Megan's excerpt, I believe William is the POV character and it's in 3rd limited.

in maestro's example of four people talking, notice how often you have to almost rely on 'so-and-so said.' i don't think a four-way conversation is very advisable for very long ~ to me it seems you'd very quickly fall into repetitious ways of indicating who your character was and that would get tedious to read after a page or two.

Yes. I rarely have more than 3 people having a conversation, and when I do, it's usually a scene where it's not important to know exactly who says what -- "so and so said something" is good enough in many cases, except important statements, which would be tagged specifically (for example, what the main character said).


i know a lot of writers like to think their character's speech is evidence in itself as to who's speaking, and in idiomatic speech it might be if it differs enough from everyone else's, so let me ask this: are most writers mostly kidding themselves when it comes to this, or do you as a reader think that you could pick out a line of just dialogue from a book and immediately know who the character is? on average, i mean.

I think you really need to know your characters. To me, if two characters are different enough (speech patterns, word choices, "accents" etc.) then it's really not a big deal. I have done a whole scene of dialogue with nary a tag and my readers have no trouble figuring it out -- it helps that the dialogue is continuous, too. He said/she said/he said/she said -- in that case, tags are unnecessary except the first one to indicate who speaks first.

Sometimes, as in my last excerpt, it doesn't matter who is speaking at all -- two "nameless" girls are having a conversation -- she said/she said -- so tags are really not necessarily and it doesn't matter to the readers to specifically identify which girl says what (again, it's the "so-and-so says something" thing).

I don't really think you can just "pick out a line" without tags and know exactly who the character is -- sometimes you can... depending on how "distinct" the character is in terms of speech pattern, word choices, etc. But in most cases, the dialogue is short enough to make it impossible to immediately know. The thing is, I don't really think it's a problem. Most people don't read from the middle of a conversation -- they'd start at the beginning. So it is important to tag the first line of exchange and identify the characters in the conversation early on.

I do think some writers tend to write characters who sound like one another. I have read enough books in which I can't figure out who is who by just reading the lines, because they all sound the same (and often sound like the narrator). A certain best-seller is notorious for writing characters who all sound like the author. LOL. So I do think that's something to look for and pay attention to. If your betas tell you "they all sound like the same character" you should take note...

[Julie Worth]

“Oh, you’re rotten,” a girl said in Malay. Four years in the country had taught Grace well.

“Like you didn’t think that way.”

“I feel bad for him.”

“You like him.”

“I do not.”

“Please. You want to have his babies.”

“You are rotten.” The girls giggled.

“So what did you hear?”

“About what?”

“What happened this evening.”

“Oh, you mean--” The other girl hushed her. “I don’t know.”

“But I do.”

“Really?”

“Really. Ang told me.”

“How did she know? I thought she was with that red-haired ferringhi.”

“Ang knows everything. She just doesn’t tell everyone.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I listened.”



This is an example of the value of tags. I couldn't follow it.

[David McAfee]

I'll play. Here's an excerpt from 33 AD with some conversation in it (NOTE: not all of this is conversation, but I wanted to avoid the confusion of coming into a conversation out of context).

Marcus leaned back in his chair, digesting the news. That is interesting. Several bloody footprints had been found in the street surrounding the bodies that morning, which indicated the killer must have stepped through the gore while it was still wet. Marcus would have cleaned his sandals first thing, but not everyone would think to do so. Still, it proves nothing. It could have been a shepherd after slaughter. It was Passover, after all. Even so, it was the closest he’d gotten all day, and after hours and hours of interrogating his own men with nothing to show for it, Marcus wasn’t about to let this lead, small as it might be, slip away. “Who reported this?”

“Lurio, Centurion.”

“Where is Lurio now?”

“I sent him back to the Damascus Gate to continue the watch. There are only a handful of men stationed there, and it would not do for--”

“Yes, yes, Gordian. I am aware of the reasons we need a guard. Have the man followed. I want to know where he goes tonight. Send Taras. I don’t want this stranger to know he’s being observed.”

“It is already done, Centurion. Taras left with Lurio.”

“Good. Very good. Thank you, Gordian. You may go.”

Gordian stood and walked to the door, he was closing it behind him when Marcus thought of one last question. “Wait.”

Gordian poked his head back into the room. “Yes, Centurion?”

“Which direction did the stranger take?”

“West, toward the Mount of Olives.”

“Probably going to the Gardens,” Marcus mused. “Isn’t that where the rabbi from Galilee is staying? What’s his name?”

“Jesus, Centurion?”

“That’s the one. Is he staying at the Gardens of Gethsemane?”

“I believe he is staying in Bethany, but he is often found in the Gardens, speaking to any who will listen.”

Marcus rubbed his chin with his fingers. That’s intriguing. Jesus was known for speaking of love and forgiveness, it would be interesting to discover if one of his followers had gotten the message wrong and slaughtered two Roman legionaries. Such a thing would not bode well for the Nazarene. “Thank you, Gordian. You may go.”

Gordian bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him. When he was alone, Marcus got to his feet and walked over to the fireplace. He leaned an arm into the wall as he stared into the embers. He thought about his brother, and he thought of his brother’s wife. Dear gods, I still have to tell her she is a widow. He gripped the handle of his sword, wanting nothing more than to run someone through with it. At that point, it wouldn’t have mattered who, he just wanted to lash out at someone, anyone.

With a growl, he swept the bust of Caesar from the mantle, taking a small amount of satisfaction in hearing the clay shatter. He knew he’d have to clean that up before anyone saw it, but it could wait. He was alone in his chambers and, for now, it felt good to break something. He promised himself that soon, he would be able to take out his anger on his brother’s killer. He hoped it was the man the guards had seen leaving the gate, headed for the Mount of Olives. This train of thought soon turned to the other man currently staying in the Gardens, and the strange things Marcus had heard about him of late.

“Are you involved in this somehow, Nazarene?” Marcus asked the empty room. He didn’t know, but by the gods, he was going to find out.

[Lisamer]

That's probably the only good part about converting your novel to a script. Look ma, no tags! Although you do have those pesky stage directions!

[maestrowork]

I have the added trick that my story takes place in Mexico but is written in English. I'm skipping the translations back and forth (MC speaks English so husband translates) just indicating it happens with the husband looking to the spanish speaker. In effect I have three-person conversations without the third person speaking.

I had one scene where a Japanese was speaking, and someone had to translate it to Malay (but the book's written in English, obviously). Once I established this fact, I totally just ignored the translator, as if only one person was giving a monologue.

ETA: I think in these cases, as long as you set it up and make it clear, you have to trust that your readers have the intelligence to grasp and understand the scene. There's a line between clarity and tediousness. It's kind of like in movies... the first few lines may be spoken in German, but then they switch to English and the audience should know that they're actually still speaking in German...

[maestrowork]

This is an example of the value of tags. I couldn't follow it.

What's there to follow? Two people are overheard doing a back and forth. You don't even need to know who is speaking. Tell me you couldn't following A said, B said, A said, B said... (regardless of who A and B are)

But good catch: EXACTLY, the example is supposed to be vague. "Who said what" is not important, but what's being said is.

[ChaosTitan]

This is a fun thread. :) Here's a short snippet from the WIP:


"So let's go over this again," I said, joining Wyatt on the apartment's small sofa. "I met you the night of the thirteenth, right after the Triads attacked the Owlkin apartments. I wanted to turn myself in, but you talked me out of it."

"Right so far. One of my informants told me of the alliance forming between goblins and Bloods. I wanted to check it out. You agreed."

"Where did I go?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was a Hunter, Wyatt, the goblins and Bloods wouldn't have just told me about their dastardly plan, and I didn't know any of them socially. After we met up, did I say where I was going next? What was my plan?"

His mouth puckered—either constipation or thoughtfulness--and his eyebrows furrowed. "You said something about the public library uptown, on Fourth Street, but wouldn't give me details."

My lips parted. "I went to see Max. If he hasn't migrated yet, he could still be there."

"Max?"

"He's a gargoyle that lives on the library." I bounced to my feet. "Gargoyles never forget, he'll be able to tell me what we talked about. Clues, Wyatt, come on, let's go get them."

He grinned and, for a moment, seemed eager for the hunt. More like his old self. He stood up. "All right, then, let's go see about a gargoyle."

[Julie Worth]

What's there to follow? Two people are overheard doing a back and forth. You don't even need to know who is speaking. Tell me you couldn't following A said, B said, A said, B said... (regardless of who A and B are).

If you have non sequiturs and interruptions where you don't reestablish the A-B sequence, then no. The reader can certainly figure it out, with some probability, but just reading through it, it doesn't work.

But good catch: EXACTLY, the example is supposed to be vague. "Who said what" is not important, but what's being said is.

You may have intended this piece to be vague, but the reader doesn't know your intentions, and tries to identify the speakers. This destroys the flow of reading, and risks annoying the reader.

[maestrowork]

You may have intended this piece to be vague, but the reader doesn't know your intentions, and tries to identify the speakers. This destroys the flow of reading, and risks annoying the reader.

If the readers don't understand my intention, then I've failed. But I believe it's very clear (at least it was clear to all my betas) that the main character (thus the readers) is eavesdropping on two nameless/faceless girls having a giggly conversation. So I don't see why they need to be identified, or why it would "destroy the flow." Adding tags in this dialogue, I believe, would be something that breaks the flow.

Granted, you haven't seen the rest of the scene, but I find your comment rather strange, as if you feel like you must always identify the characters to follow the dialogue. That simply is not always the case.

[Julie Worth]

Granted, you haven't seen the rest of the scene, but I find your comment rather strange, as if you feel like you must always identify the characters to follow the dialogue. That simply is not always the case.

Unless you have a crowd scene and people are shouting out things, then yes, it's good to differentiate the speakers. And if someone on these forums says they didn't get something you've written, you should consider it, not just dismiss it out of hand.

[Bufty]

I must confess I didn't find Maestro's excerpt difficult to follow due to the absence of tags.

Admittedly it was out of context - as all these examples are - but the short preamble adequately set the scene for me and I grasped the main character was overhearing two passing girls - which I felt was enough for me to make sense of the dialogue.

[maestrowork]

No one is dismissing you, Julie. Sorry you couldn't follow it. My bad.

[Stew21]

Ray, I didn't have trouble with it, but maybe if you could come up with something that distinguished the girls' voices from one another, it would be a bit easier.
One of them has a heavier accent, or give an informal name to one of them, "the giggler" - if one of them giggles more than the other.
Perhaps just a simple distinguishing marker on one of the girls would provide you with one tag and help some of the readers see the two characters as separate and a littler more easy to follow.
As I said, I didn't have trouble, but if you wanted to make them more defined, it might be a good way to describe unseen girls in a conversation on the other side of a door.

[maestrowork]

Thanks Trish, you do have a good point as far as identifying characters is concerned, especially in a longer scene. Like I said earlier, when you have two characters speaking, it's good that they don't sound the same (unless you do have two very similar characters speaking -- say, person A and his clone. :) )

Here, though, I do really want to have two nameless/faceless giggly teenage girls gossiping with each other. ;) And I wanted to create that sensation of "you really don't quite know who is saying what, just that things are being said." ;)

If you like, I can show you another one without tags from the Pacific Between. :) In that scene, the two characters are very distinct -- speech pattern, the things they say, etc.

OK, just hold on.

[maestrowork]

Here's another one without a lot of tags (this one from my published novel, The Pacific Between). Hopefully the characters are distinct enough:



“Mr. Lockland?” Hoi asks. He twirls a twig, then flings it into a bush.

“I’m sorry. Yes?”

“You like Cheung Chau?”

“Uh huh.”

“I grew up here.”

“Yeah, you told me already.”

“My Ah-Ma said you are good person.”

“Uh.”

“Mr. Lockland, are you listening?”

“Yes. Sorry. What?”

“My Ah-Ma said you are good person.”

“I thought Wing Po didn’t like me.”

“No, she said you are good. But you are—what is the word?”

“Cranky? Crazy?”

“Chinese word: ma fan.”

“Cranky. I guess I was kind of cranky.”

“You are good person. A lot in your brain.”

The familiar road leads us up the hill. The same exotic birds croak around us. The sun is out, casting a gray mesh on the ground all the way to the hillcrest. Unusually warm for November—the heat draws beads of sweat on my forehead.

“You’re sure you know where it is?” I ask Hoi.

“I know everywhere here."

I pick up a pebble, its chestnut shape reminding me of the long walk just a few days ago.

“What you looked for at the cemetery?” he asks.

“Nothing in particular. Nothing, really.”

“Why you want to come here?”

“The Cowens are my good friends.”

“But you don’t know where they live?”

“Hard to explain. You’re way too young to understand.”

“Why you old people say this always.”

“I’m not old people.” I chuckle. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Fifteen. I was that age when I had my first kiss. Her name was May. Or was it April? Behind a rock at Stanley Beach. The kiss was urgent and wet—I had no idea a good Catholic girl from St. Stephen’s could kiss like that, her tongue wrestling mine. It was also the first time I kissed a girl’s breasts. Hers were small but soft, fragrant like strawberry ice cream.

“Something funny?” Hoi asks. I must have been grinning.

“Ice cream,” I say. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No. Too much school.”

“Where’s school anyway?”

“St. Stephen’s.”

I grin.

“I don’t like it there,” he continues. “Have to take one-hour boat to Stanley. But it is good school. My Ah-Ma says I must go to university some day because I am to be marine biologist.”

“Is that what you want?”

He tilts his head at me. “Very much."

Somehow, I realize, this kid is mature beyond his years.

[Mel]

First draft, sort of. I cut out quite a bit of tags before posting it, wondering if it works better this way or if I'll need to add some back in.

And for the record, I think 'said' is a very nice tag. Not afraid of using characters' names either. :)

3 way conversation overheard by the MC.

Jirana's footsteps faltered in the empty corridor as voices drifted out from one of the rooms.

"I'm not sure we should wait."

"We have to," Tamaze said. "You know the rules, Lythra."

"Obviously rules do not always apply, Tamaze. Even you should remember that."

"You were told just as I was..."

"Interpretation of words can, and do, sometimes have different connotations," the woman called Lythra interrupted.

"Yes," Tamaze retorted, "and you do like to put your own on them all too often."

"It is not your decision alone, Tamaze. You know that."

"Of course. You always make that very clear to me."

"Why do you always insist on arguing with me? This is what we've been waiting for and now you want to draw back and ignore it. We can't leave it alone. It must be pursued and the sooner the better."

"I believe more time is needed. We must make sure this is the right one," Tamaze insisted.

"Time is something we're too short on. No, I think we follow through."

"And if I don't agree? What then?"

"Maybe we should ask Silver what he thinks," the woman said.

"Silver does not have a say in this. You and I are the ones who must come to some sort of agreement."

"Yes, well, that doesn't seem to be happening, does it? Silver, tell us what you feel about all this."

"I'm sorry, Tamaze, but I have to agree with Lythra. Time is of the essence."

"Of course you would agree with her. After all, you belong to her, don't you."

"I belong to no one, as you well know."

"It's settled then. Silver, you know what to do."

"It will be taken care of, Lythra."

"I will do my part, although, you know where I stand in this."

"Yes, Tamaze, we do know, and your help will be much appreciated. You'll see, it is the right thing to do."

"I can only hope you are not mistaken. If you are, then it is on your own head."

The woman laughed. "A chance I'll take. Now, I must get back. The others will want to know what we've decided."

Jirana's thoughts whirled as she tried to figure out how she could get away before they came out of the room.

[PeeDee]

I dunno. I'm not keen on eliminating all my tags and just having long stretches of dialog. It's just so rare in real life, it doesn't work for me. People are always doing things and if you're careful about how you use it, your characters can be doing things (different things) while talking. So my characters do things and think things and move around and change their minds and have expressions and so on.

[Elodie-Caroline]

Mine too P.D, as I can never think of any conversation I've had, where I'm not doing or thinking something else as I'm talking. Maybe I'm just a fidgety kind of person though :D

People are always doing things and if you're careful about how you use it, your characters can be doing things (different things) while talking. So my characters do things and think things and move around and change their minds and have expressions and so on.

[PeeDee]

Mine too P.D, as I can never think of any conversation I've had, where I'm not doing or thinking something else as I'm talking. Maybe I'm just a fidgety kind of person though :D

I probably am too. I never sit and gaze deep into someone's eyes and just talk. How weird would that be? I fiddle with my tea, or I'm working, or I'm cleaning, or I'm walking, or.....

...and I'm always thinking, sometimes about the conversation, sometimes about a wealth of other stuff, but always thinking.

[maestrowork]

I probably am too. I never sit and gaze deep into someone's eyes and just talk. How weird would that be? I fiddle with my tea, or I'm working, or I'm cleaning, or I'm walking, or.....

...and I'm always thinking, sometimes about the conversation, sometimes about a wealth of other stuff, but always thinking.

I think it comes down to pace and flow. Straight-thru dialogue is fast-paced and gets the point across. Action, etc. will slow down the flow, and you have to be careful where you stop the conversation to describe action -- stopping at the wrong place you will break the momentum or flow. And if you dip into the character's head every time he speaks, it can become tedious. So, I think it's always about a balance and what you try to accomplish with your dialogue.

[PeeDee]

I think it comes down to pace and flow. Straight-thru dialogue is fast-paced and gets the point across. Action, etc. will slow down the flow, and you have to be careful where you stop the conversation to describe action -- stopping at the wrong place you will break the momentum or flow. And if you dip into the character's head every time he speaks, it can become tedious. So, I think it's always about a balance and what you try to accomplish with your dialogue.

I have a few places where dialogue is done by itself, sure. Now and then, little sections. I also tend to find that when fast-paced action kicks into gear in real life...there is very little meaningful dialogue.

And sure it's about stopping in the right place, but that's something you just learn how to do when you're writing. Or I do, anyway. There are pauses in conversation and they convey better with action, with thought, than with then he paused for a moment before saying...

I dunno. I prefer material in my dialogue, not just dialogue running down the page. I have very few books on my shelves that do that in lengthy sections...and most of the ones I have, that I enjoy, are by that Lord of Dialogue, Elmore Leonard. So. To each their own.

[Elodie-Caroline]

Looks like we're two of a kind mate. I can't even hold a telephone conversation without fiddling on my computer or something, shifting files about or playing Hangaroo lol.

I'm always thinking too, I cannot ever think of a time when my brain's not turning something over in it. I'm even thinking as I fall to sleep each night, my brain is still going on in thought mode about what I think is important and yet I can hear the voices of my dreams calling to me too, it's very weird.


I probably am too. I never sit and gaze deep into someone's eyes and just talk. How weird would that be? I fiddle with my tea, or I'm working, or I'm cleaning, or I'm walking, or.....

...and I'm always thinking, sometimes about the conversation, sometimes about a wealth of other stuff, but always thinking.

[maestrowork]

Looks like we're two of a kind mate. I can't even hold a telephone conversation without fiddling on my computer or something, shifting files about or playing Hangaroo lol.

Reminds me of that funny bit on SNL: the "Law and Order: three-liner audition class" skit. It was hilarious. The first student came on the stage and delivered her lines straight-up and got booted off. Then the other student came on (I believe it was Jake Gyllenhaal as guest host), and the instructor told him: #1 rule on Law and Order, the character is always doing something while delivering each line... then she demonstrated: feed the baby, put clothes in washer, mop the floor... 3 lines, three actions.

It's really funny, serious. :)

[PeeDee]

People still watch SNL? Really?

[Elodie-Caroline]

Ah Maestro, but I wonder if they can roll a cigarette, one-handed, whilst they're talking on the phone? :D

[PeeDee]

Ah Maestro, but I wonder if they can roll a cigarette, one-handed, whilst they're talking on the phone? :D

The Law & Order guys? At their age? Maybe twenty-five years ago, during Season 8, but now they ask the nurse to do it for them.

[maestrowork]

You've got talent.

[lfraser]

I'm firmly in the dialogue-plus-action camp. Pages of nothing but dialogue look strange to me. A page of writing is supposed to have paragraphs, darnit, paragraphs and scene setting and people doing things while they talk. Otherwise it seems like talking heads against a white canvas backdrop.

Also, if you use the dialogue plus action method, you don't need to use many dialogue tags, so you don't have to worry about overusing the word "said." The action provides emphasis, emotion, intent and all those other things that can run you into trouble with dialogue tags.

And it's a good way to avoid using adverbs.

[Sage]

I prefer add action in with my dialogue, but there are definitely times when line after line of dialogue with only an occasional tag or action makes sense for pacing or the situation, & if there are only two people talking, it's perfectly clear who is saying what once you establish it in the beginning of the conversation.

[melaniehoo]

Reminds me of that funny bit on SNL: the "Law and Order: three-liner audition class" skit. It was hilarious. The first student came on the stage and delivered her lines straight-up and got booted off. Then the other student came on (I believe it was Jake Gyllenhaal as guest host), and the instructor told him: #1 rule on Law and Order, the character is always doing something while delivering each line... then she demonstrated: feed the baby, put clothes in washer, mop the floor... 3 lines, three actions.

It's really funny, serious. :)

I saw that one - it was really funny!

[melaniehoo]

I had one scene where a Japanese was speaking, and someone had to translate it to Malay (but the book's written in English, obviously). Once I established this fact, I totally just ignored the translator, as if only one person was giving a monologue.

ETA: I think in these cases, as long as you set it up and make it clear, you have to trust that your readers have the intelligence to grasp and understand the scene. There's a line between clarity and tediousness. It's kind of like in movies... the first few lines may be spoken in German, but then they switch to English and the audience should know that they're actually still speaking in German...

This is an example of how I'm handling this:


Areli didn't waste any time whipping out the needles. After feeling my legs and torso and deciding, yes, I definitely had a fever, she flipped me over and tugged at my panties. Guess I didn't need to worry about shorts after all. Facedown on the bed I reached for Ibis' hand.

"Is this gonna hurt?"

He asked Areli then looked down at me. "Yes."

No mincing words here. What happened to "This might sting a bit"?

He translated another question. "Are you ready?"

"Mm-hmm." I squeezed his hand and focused on his fist, waiting for the stick.

"Mel, you need to relax. She can't give you the shot like that."

I'd inadvertantly clenched my buttcheeks along with the rest of my body. Probably not the best way to receive an injection.

[further along]

"Are you ready for the next one?" Ibis kneeled next to me so we were eye to eye.

"Another one? Like that?"

He looked to Areli. "No, this one won't hurt."

"At all? Are you sure?" I couldn't handle another shot like that.

[spacejock2]

You may have intended this piece to be vague, but the reader doesn't know your intentions, and tries to identify the speakers. This destroys the flow of reading, and risks annoying the reader.

I didn't read all the way through the example, but can I just add my vote? As a reader I HAVE to know who is saying what in dialogue, even if that means backing up until I can work it all out. I think perhaps I assign slightly different voices to characters when I'm reading fiction, and I see and/or hear those voices when I'm reading their spoken words. When I read a line and can't attribute it to any of the assigned voices it does bug me.

[PeeDee]

I didn't read all the way through the example, but can I just add my vote? As a reader I HAVE to know who is saying what in dialogue, even if that means backing up until I can work it all out. I think perhaps I assign slightly different voices to characters when I'm reading fiction, and I see and/or hear those voices when I'm reading their spoken words. When I read a line and can't attribute it to any of the assigned voices it does bug me.

The same here. I back up too and follow each line until I know who's saying what. If I have to do it a couple of times, I'm cool. Too many times is just annoying as hell.

[spacejock2]

Looks like we're two of a kind mate. I can't even hold a telephone conversation without fiddling on my computer or something, shifting files about or playing Hangaroo lol.

I got busted for that once. Was chatting to a girl on the phone while doing something on the computer (don't know what - but typing.)

She heard the typing sound and got upset I wasn't paying 100% attention, until I said I was writing her a poem.

The problem with phone (or live) conversations is that they take time but accomplish little. (Send me an email already!) In fiction, boil dialogue down to the specifics and you won't risk boring the reader.

[maestrowork]

I didn't read all the way through the example, but can I just add my vote? As a reader I HAVE to know who is saying what in dialogue, even if that means backing up until I can work it all out. I think perhaps I assign slightly different voices to characters when I'm reading fiction, and I see and/or hear those voices when I'm reading their spoken words. When I read a line and can't attribute it to any of the assigned voices it does bug me.

But let me ask this: if the dialogue is simply an "A said, B said" and the A-B sequence is set up in the beginning, do you still need the occasional tags to keep you in line? And how long can you go without tags -- a few lines, half a page, one page?

But yeah, if your characters sound at least slightly different, all the better.

[PeeDee]

But let me ask this: if the dialogue is simply an "A said, B said" and the A-B sequence is set up in the beginning, do you still need the occasional tags to keep you in line? And how long can you go without tags -- a few lines, half a page, one page?

It depends on how it changes. Is it just exactly A-B-A-B-A-B?

And I don't know how many. I know sooner or later I'd have to double back and physically go "A-B-A-B-A-B" to figure out if the line spoken angrily at the bottom is A being angry, or B.

[maestrowork]

It depends on how it changes. Is it just exactly A-B-A-B-A-B?

And I don't know how many. I know sooner or later I'd have to double back and physically go "A-B-A-B-A-B" to figure out if the line spoken angrily at the bottom is A being angry, or B.

Unless, of course, the content and context are clear: A talks about hating and B talks about loving Uncle George.

Personally, I think about half a page is good, and anything longer than that I'd prefer some kind of refresher (such an action to break things up, or a "said" tag to remind us who is speaking, even if the characters are distinct).

That said, whatever works. I have read a short story (probably 2000 words) with nothing but dialogue (and no tags) and it read wonderfully.

[PeeDee]

I've done a short story with nothing but dialogue, zero tags, and it worked well.

I agree: Half a page is probably pretty comfortable for me. Done well and clearly, it can go how it needs to.

[Elodie-Caroline]

I like face to face conversations the best and can concentrate on them more, but I don't really like talking on the phone, I get stuck for something to say. My telephone conversations are very boring and filled with lots of long pauses and yawns. Thankfully, most of my phone conversations are with my sister and she knows what I'm like; she knows that if I'm not doing something whilst talking, that I'd be waving my little hands in the air as I was chatting.
To be honest, writing the dialogue in my novels is my most favourite part of writing and probably takes up around 70% of my stories. Hopefully they're not as boring as my telephone dialogue though LOL :D


I got busted for that once. Was chatting to a girl on the phone while doing something on the computer (don't know what - but typing.)

She heard the typing sound and got upset I wasn't paying 100% attention, until I said I was writing her a poem.

The problem with phone (or live) conversations is that they take time but accomplish little. (Send me an email already!) In fiction, boil dialogue down to the specifics and you won't risk boring the reader.

[Elodie-Caroline]

There's always Under Milk wood, a play for voices, by Dylan Thomas :)


That said, whatever works. I have read a short story (probably 2000 words) with nothing but dialogue (and no tags) and it read wonderfully.

[maestrowork]

I love reading plays or scripts. Sure, there are character tags but still, there's something really exciting about reading nothing but conversations: everything you need to know is encapsulated in dialogue. (For example, a working screenplay of When Harry Met Sally had nothing but dialogue, and I didn't feel like I missed anything!)

[Elodie-Caroline]

I love reading film scripts too! I sat and read the whole film script to The awakenings in around two hours a couple of months ago. I also have the film scripts to Leon and Entrapment on my computer for when I get around to reading them.
There are a lot of good websites around that you can get film scripts from.

I love reading plays or scripts. Sure, there are character tags but still, there's something really exciting about reading nothing but conversations: everything you need to know is encapsulated in dialogue. (For example, a working screenplay of When Harry Met Sally had nothing but dialogue, and I didn't feel like I missed anything!)

[ccarver30]

It was very difficult to pick one!! The spacing is a little off, but I hope you get the idea. :)

The shuffling of the newspaper was all that could be heard throughout the household. It was so peaceful and calm with everyone going about their business with contentment.

Until she came home.

A shriek resonated off every fixture, piece of furniture and column. “I vow I will take my revenge on that man one day!”

Brad ran his hands over his face. He knew she had lied when she said she was going shopping. Clearly the weather would not be friendly to a day on the boardwalks of London. Brad wished Lord Bixby weren’t so wrapped up in politics so he could keep a leash on his wife… perhaps even a muzzle.

“Do you know what he did? Do you know what he did!”

“No, but I am positive you are about to scream what he did to you… to me.” Brad looked to the ceiling to calculate if his grammar was acceptable.

“He handled me like… like cattle!” Sabine removed a muddy boot and then another, throwing each one to the ground with vigor.

“Cattle?” The image this created was quite amusing. “Tell me, did he use a prod?”

Sabine clutched her bonnet with fury and threw it at him. “I am the wife of a viscount! He cannot…”

“He is an earl. One that has known you his entire life, mind you.”

“I don’t care!”

Brad was quickly tiring of his sister’s antics. “Leave this issue alone, or you are not welcome to stay.”

Her chin dropped in awe. “You don’t mean to exclude me from my family’s home!”

“I am Lord Harsdale. I am your brother. I make the rules. Leave Alyssa Barrington alone. Her mother gave her the necklace. Susana Barrington is dead. Have some compassion, Sabine!”

Sabine frowned with genuine regret. “Susana Barrington?” She dropped to the nearest chair heavily. “From cityTBD?”

Brad leaned forward in his chair. “Yes, I believe her family is from there. How on earth did you know that?”

[Ken Schneider]

"Right there, that's him," Lace said, pointing into the mass of bodies collecting around the fountian square. She ducked in behind me and held onto my shoulders.
"I'm sure he can't see you Lace, there's like a million people here." Like a puppy dog looking for affection Lace's head pressed between my arm and side.
"Oh my God, he's coming over." She disappeared again.
I started to get frustrated by all this rediculous sneaking she was doing, and turned around.
"Lace, for the last time, I'm damned sure that he can't see you through all these people. Besides, if you want to hook up with him so bad why don't you just go tell him." She dropped her hands hard on her hips. "So what? I see the Jay you're a dumb ass look on your face, Lace." She smiled, but her eyes were looking past me. I raised my eyebrows and grinned.
"Hi Rob."
"Hey Lace." So I was wrong. So she was embarrassed, Lace was handling the stiuation quite well.
"Rob."
"Jay."

[maestrowork]

I love reading film scripts too! I sat and read the whole film script to The awakenings in around two hours a couple of months ago. I also have the film scripts to Leon and Entrapment on my computer for when I get around to reading them.
There are a lot of good websites around that you can get film scripts from.

The screenplay of The Talented Mr. Ripley was excellent -- I felt like I was actually seeing the movie when I read it. It was that good.

I think anyone who wants to learn to write great dialogue should study screenplays (good screenplays).

[preyer]

'But let me ask this: if the dialogue is simply an "A said, B said" and the A-B sequence is set up in the beginning, do you still need the occasional tags to keep you in line? And how long can you go without tags -- a few lines, half a page, one page?' ~ i don't tend to have rather extended conversations and there be no tags or action whatsoever. i'm of the mind that i'm telling the story i want you know. to be honest, the only reason i don't mire a scene with incredibly minute description is because i know that's not good, *not* because i want the reader using their imagination and filling in detail. if i had it my way, you'd know every time a character burped to themselves after drinking a coke too fast. but, i know that would royally suck to read.

that said, when i do have just conversation and nothing more (a rarity), even just between two characters, even if you already know without a shadow of a doubt who's speaking, i simply can't go on for too long without adding some kind of reminder. i have the attention span of a gnat, okay, and i like to be reminded every now and then who's yapping away, obvious or not. someone's got to scratch their ass or pause or do something. then again, i wouldn't write nameless, faceless characters with dialogue, i'd have to attribute them to a place. someone mentioned how there was just a white screen there (or words to that effect), which is funny because i see a black void, lol. i did this exact thing before and didn't care for the effect, so i put them into a scene (knowing me i probably made them gravediggers). to each their own, though.

experimenting once, i had nothing but dialogue and a three way conversation. i didn't find it entertaining to write. in fact, when i looked back at it, it was quite annoying to read. i found myself using gimmicks and using names waaay too much. and while i think i pulled it off as well as can reasonably be expected, it was still just an experiment and not good reading, imo (compounding the problem was the fact the characters were performing actions, not just sitting around drinking coffee while discussing some state of affairs).

[Bufty]

I think comprehension without tags depends wholly on the dialogue content and the setting.

Take a courtroom cross-examination of a witness- I expect anyone could easily follow a substantial rapid exchange between a witness and the Prosecutor for some time without any tags at all until the Defence Counsel interrupted. Or vice-versa.

Sure you could put the odd tag in, but only when it's meaningful and adds to the interpretation of the exchange.

[maestrowork]

I think comprehension without tags depends wholly on the dialogue content and the setting.

Absolutely. Context helps a lot, and dialogue tags are mostly transparent anyway. An interviewer-interviewee exchange could be easily followed without tags, but probably not between two twins having a casual conversation. Omitting the tags will significantly speed up the pace, thus creating that rapid-fire sensation.

[Elodie-Caroline]

I think that writing dialogue is my strongest point in my writing; it's also the part I like doing the best.

I actually like to read scripts because I have a very vivid imagination, that's why I've always been a book reader I suppose.
I had only ever seen The awakenings once, many years ago, but I pictured it like I had seen it many times as I read the script for it.

After having this conversation this morning, I went and found the film scripts to Casino, Goodfellas and The Godfather trilogy. I've always loved mafia films! :)

I think anyone who wants to learn to write great dialogue should study screenplays (good screenplays).

[Sunkissed27f]

that said, when i do have just conversation and nothing more (a rarity), even just between two characters, even if you already know without a shadow of a doubt who's speaking, i simply can't go on for too long without adding some kind of reminder. i have the attention span of a gnat, okay, and i like to be reminded every now and then who's yapping away, obvious or not.


I agree with you!
I feel as though in my minds eye they are just standing there, stiff with just their mouths talking. I need to know what they are doing.
And reading screenplays are different...eventually they will be made in to movies, plays, etc. So you can read back and forth with no tags describing motions, but eventually they will be in motion. Does that makes sense?
At least in this dialog here, you can almost be certain who is talking. I can't go longer than 3-4 sentences of dialog without throwing a tag in there.
Don't be too critical....this is unedited....ripped right from my WIP. ;)
Lightning zigzagged from dark clouds hovering over the water; a curtain of rain was sweeping inland. Thunder echoed in the distance, following a bright flash of lightening. Emma sprinted towards the condo, buffeted by the wind as it picked up strength. Reaching the safety of the breezeway, she leaned against the cool brick wall, watching the waves churning, building in height and vigor. The storm had reached land.
“Looks bad don’t it?”
Emma turned at the small voice. A young boy stood behind her, a Braves ball cap in one hand and a Pepsi can in the other.
“My granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight. I don’t like storms too much, do you?”
“I don’t mind them at all,” she replied, “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”
The boy grinned and took a sip of his drink, “Yeah, granny would probably like that sayin’. She’s got a ton of ‘em.”
“I think your grandmother sounds very wise.”
“Nah, she just has to have somethin’ to say or she ain’t happy. That’s what my mom used to say anyway.”
“I’m Emma. It’s nice to meet you.”
“My names Jonathon Nathan Praetor, but everyone calls me Nate.”

[maestrowork]

Lightning zigzagged from dark clouds hovering over the water; a curtain of rain was sweeping inland. Thunder echoed in the distance, following a bright flash of lightening. Emma sprinted towards the condo, buffeted by the wind as it picked up strength. Reaching the safety of the breezeway, she leaned against the cool brick wall, watching the waves churning, building in height and vigor. The storm had reached land.
“Looks bad don’t it?”

The problem I have here is I didn't know who said "Looks bad don't it?" It was in Emma's POV so I assumed it was Emma, and it took me two or three readings to know that's the little boy's line (complicating the matter, the boy speaks again after that). Normally I would prefer something like:

"Looks bad, don't it?" a small voice said behind her.
Emma turned....
"My granny..." the boy said. "...."

[Sunkissed27f]

I see where you are coming from.
*goes to look at her dialog some more....edit here a little edit there*

[J. R. Tomlin]

I would assume that wasn't Emma speaking because it was in a new paragraph. Normally if Emma was speaking I would put in in the same paragraph as her actions, which means there is no need for a tag. A paragraph break does signal that it is someone else speaking. So I don't find that confusing at all.

However, people are pretty easily confused as to who is speaking so any hint at confusion from readers and I stick something in to clarify it which doesn't hurt.

[maestrowork]

Paragraph breaks don't necessarily indicate a different person speaking. Note there were two more paragraphs but the next speaker was the boy again. And also, in the paragraph, there's no indication of anyone else other than Emma, so the introduction of a second character without a dialogue tag is jarring nonetheless.

In truth, I would not add a dialogue to the end of this paragraph:

"Lightning zigzagged from dark clouds hovering over the water; a curtain of rain was sweeping inland. Thunder echoed in the distance, following a bright flash of lightening. Emma sprinted towards the condo, buffeted by the wind as it picked up strength. Reaching the safety of the breezeway, she leaned against the cool brick wall, watching the waves churning, building in height and vigor. The storm had reached land."


Even if Emma speaks. I think sunkissed's paragraph breaks are fine, just need to actually tag the dialogue to clarify the speakers.

[Sunkissed27f]

“Looks bad don’t it,” a small voice said behind her.
Emma turned, a young boy holding a Braves ball cap in one hand, a Pepsi can in the other, was scuffing his left shoe against the pavement.
“My granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight. I don’t like storms too much, do you?”
“I don’t mind them at all,” she said, “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”

Any better?

I kinda liked the first one..but I am open to new ideas and well leave both versions until final edit. :D

[maestrowork]

Or, if you want to keep the pace:

A small voice startled her. "Looks bad don't it."
She turned. A young boy....
"My granny said it's gonna be a tropical storm by tonight," he said. "I don't like storms too much, do you?"

[Sunkissed27f]

Hmm....tricky.
*jots down 3rd revision choice*

[Bufty]

I'd normally agree with Tomlin and put a character's dialogue onto the end of that character's paragraph but it does depend on the content of the paragraph. In this case I prefer Maestro's original suggested interpretation.

The revised Sunkissed version still doesn't make it clear who says that 'My granny...' line.

[Sunkissed27f]

“Looks bad don’t it,” a small voice said behind her.
Emma turned, a young boy stood behind her, a Braves ball cap in one hand and a Pepsi can in the other.
“My granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight. I don’t like storms too much, do you,” he asked.
“I don’t mind them at all,” she replied, “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”


If I was to write:
“My granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight." he said,"I don’t like storms too much, do you?”
The 'said' part gets me. Bleh.
-OR-
If I was to break it up:
“My granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight," he scuffed the toe of his shoe on the pavement. "I don’t like storms too much, do you,” he asked.

Then she can reply:
“I don’t mind them at all,” she replied, “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”

Ahhhh, I am going to stop now or I will butcher what little I have left!
Thanks All!!

ETA: If I was to write:“Looks bad don’t it,” a small voice asked from behind her.
Emma, glanced over her shoulder, a young boy stood behind her....
This eliminates the 'behind' being written twice.
“Looks bad don’t it,” a small voice asked from behind her.
Emma turned; a young boy stood scuffing the toe of his left shoe against the pavement, a Braves ball cap in one hand and a Pepsi can in the other.
“My granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight. I don’t like storms too much, do you,” he asked.
“I don’t mind them at all,” she replied, “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”

NOW I AM STOPPING....lol My OCD is getting the best of me!!
Perfect, perfect, perfect......

[maestrowork]

LOL. Sorry to give you a headache. I think clarity is the key here. Your original version, especially with the boy speaking both lines, wasn't clear enough. I do like to use action, so how about:


“Looks bad don’t it,” a small voice said behind her.
Emma turned and saw a young boy with a Braves ball cap in one hand and a Pepsi can in the other.
“My granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight," he continued, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the pavement. "I don’t like storms too much, do you."
“I don’t mind them at all,” she replied. “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”

[preyer]

i think m is right on the first suggestion. after 'my granny...' i don't think there's any reason to indicate who the speaker is; it's obvious to me.

while i would make the first change m mentioned, i didn't have any problems following who was speaking. i probably would have things arranged slightly differently, but as it is this didn't cause me any confusion.

then i would have changed pepsi to coke, made the boy a female college student whose bikini was lost in a big wave, and the introduction a hot lesbian sex scene most likely on the piano. again, that's just me. ...i'm reminded of my piano teacher back when i was a kid. i never learned a damn thing, but i sure did enjoy staring at her cleavage. story is the track coach made fun of me for skipping practice (which i never wanted to join track anyway, i was talked into it by a friend while we were both stoned at the sign-up), saying, 'he's one of *those*.' i take that to mean he was making fun of my sexuality. yeah, right. hm, run around in circles all day with a bunch of half clothed dudes as opposed to learning music with a hot teacher... yeah, and *i'm* the one who's sexuality is in question, huh, coach? call me crazy, but a grown man who volunteers to hang out in a dark boys' locker room has no room to question anyone's anything, imo, lol.

well, i hated track, i hated the coach... but i liked her floppy boobs and sitting next to a pretty woman. if that coach, assuming he's not in jail for sexual inappropriateness by now, knew i liked to write, he'd probably say, 'i *knew* it.'

or, more than likely, he'd ejaculate, 'i *knew* it!'

[preyer]

what i'd do is remove 'my' from 'my granny.' if it's not obvious who's speaking, then that reader is a bloomin' idiot. use the word the boy calls his grandmother.

[maestrowork]

what i'd do is remove 'my' from 'my granny.' if it's not obvious who's speaking, then that reader is a bloomin' idiot. use the word the boy calls his grandmother.

Great suggestion. Use the boy's word choices, inflection, etc. to indicate the speaker. Very nice.

/ grumble grumble: why didn't I think of that? /

[Sunkissed27f]

LOL....not a problem.
Thanks for your help!

LOL. Sorry to give you a headache. I think clarity is the key here. Your original version, especially with the boy speaking both lines, wasn't clear enough. I do like to use action, so how about:


“Looks bad don’t it,” a small voice said behind her.
Emma turned and saw a young boy with a Braves ball cap in one hand and a Pepsi can in the other.
“My granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight," he continued, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the pavement. "I don’t like storms too much, do you."
“I don’t mind them at all,” she replied. “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”

[Sunkissed27f]

P....TMI!

And no steamy lesbian sex with the hot pianist!

Hell..I wouldn't know how to write one of those any way.

And this kid is like 8....he has passed the age of thinking, "boobs are food", but not yet to the age to think, "num num num num" and that ain't the thought of food on his mind!!

[Bufty]

There's always more than one way ....

“Looks bad don’t it,” a small voice said behind her.

Emma turned and saw a young boy with a Braves ball cap in one hand and a Pepsi can in the other.

He scuffed the toe of his shoe on the pavement. “Granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight. I don’t like storms too much, do you?"

“I don’t mind them at all,” she replied. “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”

[maestrowork]

LOL. / head explodes /

There are always 2,347 ways to skin a cat.

[preyer]

here's the scene had i wrote it:


Lightning zigzagged from dark clouds hovering over the water; a curtain of rain was sweeping inland. Thunder echoed in the distance, following a bright flash of lightning. Emma sprinted towards the condo, buffeted by the wind as it picked up strength. Reaching the safety of the breezeway, she leaned against the cool brick wall, watching the waves churning, building in height and vigor. The storm had reached land.

“Looks bad, don’t it?” a young boy's voice said behind her. Emma turned to find a kid all of eight with a Braves ball cap in one hand and a Pepsi can in the other. “Granny said it’s gonna be a tropical storm by tonight. I don’t like storms too much, do you?”

“I don’t mind them at all,” she replied. “My father used to say storms were God’s way of wiping the slate clean.”

...more or less....

[preyer]

btw, i'm not thrilled with me putting a different character's action inside someone else's dialogue. you can, but in retrospect i'd probably reword that sentence to make the boy more prominent. it depends, i guess, but it does bring to light another issue ~ is putting another character's action inside a different character's dialogue taboo?

funny, but i just took a guess at the boy's age, not having seen the reply before i added my version.

[maestrowork]

it depends, i guess, but it does bring to light another issue ~ is putting another character's action inside a different character's dialogue taboo?

I would say no, if the action is brief.

Again, it's all about pace and clarity. There are many ways to write the same dialogue, and as long as it works...

[ZannaPerry]

How do you go about using dialogue tags in dream sequences? Even if it's a brief dream? I've seen in some books where they don't, some you have to in order to know who's talking.

[Bufty]

Not sure I see what the problem is here. Exactly the same way and for the same reason as in any other sequence, I would think.

How do you go about using dialogue tags in dream sequences? Even if it's a brief dream? I've seen in some books where they don't, some you have to in order to know who's talking.

[Bufty]

I prefer not to get into that as a habit, but in this case it worked for me, P.

~ is putting another character's action inside a different character's dialogue taboo?

[Sunkissed27f]

The dream sequences I have read were italicized, and the speech was incorporated into the paragraphs, There weren't any dialog (why does my spell check hate dialogue?) breaks in the paragraphs.

If it's done right, you can get away with it.
I do believe a few of Kings books done it this way, no?
Emma walked along a deserted highway feeling alone. What is this place? She continued down the road, coming upon a man dressed in white. Who are you sir, and where am I? The man scratched his head and smiled, You are on the road to Eden falls, young lady.

[melaniehoo]

Sunkissed - I like the various suggestions here and my only point is I think you should keep the toe-scuffing line with the boy, not in the MCs line. That was the only thing that threw me off.

As for one character's action in another's dialogue - I try to avoid it. Especially if the action is used in lieu of a tag, I think it confuses things.

[Ava Jarvis]

Here's something I wrote over the weekend. The scene is nearly all dialogue. Three people talking, with few dialog tags apart from the first person speaker, because the characters sound very different. If there is ever a time when the speaker's voice wouldn't make a line sound different enough, I try to introduce context at the very beginning of what they say to point the finger appropriately.

Otherwise, ye olde dialgoue tag. But I prefer language when I can get away with it.

The energy of Adam and Alex tend to rush the passage, even when their dialogue is long (but it's never very long), so the first person (Proust) POV has longer dialogue tag beats to counteract it.

Beware the horror of teh furst draf:

----

"I'm Adam, he's Alex," said the American.

"Don't look so surprised," said Alex. "They're not, ah, assigned names. An assigned name would be more unique. Like 'Tiger Eyes' or 'Master Ju' or--Proust."

"I thought Adam was pretty original to come up with. Like Biblical Adam. 'Cause we're the first line. We should all be named 'Adam'."

"You'll have to ignore Adam sometimes. He's a bit off his head."

"You just ignore Alex, he's a crazed British bastard."

"English."

"Whatever."

I am in the company of possibly the only two genuine looneys in the Academy. I started slicing my turkey. Still, it's better than being with the psychos, which seem to be everybody else.

"So, I heard you two talking about me," I said. "Everyone else seems to just pretend I don't exist."

"It was Adam who started it, really," said Alex.

"We just heard over the grapevine that you're partnering up with V for the foreseeable future."

"Which V is this?" I asked.

"Hey, I thought you were the outsider," said Adam. "It's the only V you know so far. V9432."

"Ah, him. Do you usually call him 'V'?"

"Oh goodness no," said Alex. "He might kill us. He believes in the whole numbers thing. He does call us Alex and Adam, however."

"Yes, he respects your beliefs, even if he would officially kill you for having them. I kind of like him, in the way I like sharks."

"But he's our shark."

"Do you two work with him a lot?" I asked.

"Why, yes we do! We're his usual team. So we were wondering what he was doing with you."

I munched a carrot bit, tender and juicy. "I don't believe I have clearance to tell you."

Adam snorted. "Ooooooooooo, we're so scared."

"Mind your manners," said Alex. "Anyways, I think I know what's going on. Put two and two together, Adam."

"What, the insanity of partnering up a face man with a long-range assassin engine and no close combat cover support?"

"Exactly," said Alex.

"Oh," said Adam.

"Excuse me, could you fill me in on what you two are talking about?"

"It's some sort of tradition," said Alex. "But we usually see that kind of team being formed up to investigate what Adam calls--"

"All the Really Weird Shit. Like mutant predatory red squirrels in England and hydro bug aliens spawning in the Gulf stream."

"Whereas our team is usually busy with the boring and everyday, like wiping an illegal nuclear mini munitions factory off the face of the moon."

"Well," I said, "perhaps there's something that an empathic can do in these situations that other lines can't."

"Like be a weird-o-meter?" asked Adam.

"I imagine something like that," I said.

"I got to admit, V doesn't have a weird-o-meter."

"Yes," said Alex, setting his chin on his hands, "he only does color night vision, infrared heat sensing, vibration analysis through up to three miles of rock, Eagle Eye sighting, Rapid Viper tracking, intricate arial chemical analysis--"

"--and electroreception through the freaking air," finished Adam. "He'd be scary if he could fight decently without weapons."

"Unarmed combat is not his cup of tea," said Alex. "So you see where we're concerned. V's are mercurial in nature and we'd like to keep our current one."

Their concern rang genuine. But I noticed they didn't have the same concern of safety for me.

I shrugged. "Sounds reasonable enough, but your concern isn't any of my business. Nor is our partnership any of yours."

"Oo, burn!" said Adam.

"Please reconsider," said Alex.

"Our assignment came from Tiger Eyes herself," I said. "So while I appreciate your concern, I don't see what you can do about it. This is our assignment, and I have a large amount of research to do."

"In that case," said Alex, "I suggest you immediately pay a visit to V's quarters. Level 31, red corridor, room 432, no relation."

"V9432 told me he would be out tonight," I said.

"Trust us," said Adam, "he's in his quarters. And he won't let you in unless you're a certain female M-liner, or you have an Oreo pie with you."

"Think Cerberus," said Alex. "A little cake does wonders."

---

[Ken Schneider]

LOL. Sorry to give you a headache. I think clarity is the key here. Your original version, especially with the boy speaking both lines, wasn't clear enough. I do like to use action, so how about:


“Looks bad don’t it,” a small voice said behind her.
Emma turned and saw a young boy with a Braves ball cap in one hand and a Pepsi can in the other. My bolding Ray.

Just for grins and giggles, sounds like he has an empty can. Instead of "a can of Pepsi," denoting something in the can.http://www.absolutewrite.com/forums/images/icons/icon10.gif

Anyone feel that? Funny how a turnaround of words can evoke a different meaning, eh?

[Ken Schneider]

How do you go about using dialogue tags in dream sequences? Even if it's a brief dream? I've seen in some books where they don't, some you have to in order to know who's talking.


I do dreams in first person.http://www.absolutewrite.com/forums/images/icons/icon12.gif

[LeeFlower]

Thanks for posting these, guys. I've really enjoyed going through and reading them :). This from the novel I'll start shopping as soon as I can beat the @#$%ing synopsis into submission. I'm posting it because it's a scene with a whole lot of different speakers. It's kind of long, though-- I'll see if I can snip it down.
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[snipping out a whole conversation between Kemi and Mekal].

Aian's squad filed in just then and everyone formed up into ranks. Kemi bowed to Mekal and stepped up in front of them. [snip] "Alright," she began, opening up the first watch notebook. "I suppose you all want orders. Aian, you're on the king's detail. Tala, morning senate sessions. Harlan, you're responsible for barracks security and for Kai. [snip] Ander, Oaken's holding some sort of luncheon– have fun watching everyone eat. Gem, yards and breaks relief."

"Lucky sot," Ander said, using an actor's whisper so that everyone could hear him.

Gem grinned and leaned towards Ander to answer, in the same loud whisper: "I didn't wake her up this morning. She'll start hating me again tomorrow."

Kemi cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," Gem said, stepping back into his place.

"Yes, generally," She answered. "Your mother says you've been neglecting to visit her, by the way. You should be ashamed of yourself. Shouldn't he?"

Everyone snickered.

Gem rolled his eyes. "She's nagging me by messenger now? Next she'll be sending mimes."

Kemi grinned and gave him a grand bow. "Always my lady's humble servant. Alright, ladies and gentlemen, that's all I have for you. Are there any questions, comments, announcements or amusing anecdotes?"

[snip]

Jak raised his hand. "I heard a good one about sheep the other day."

"So did the rest of us," said Kemi. "Dismissed, all."

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...ok, so still really long, and I snipped out several speakers. bleh.

[KTC]

“Great. Great,” Teal said. “We just got off the plane from France about an hour ago. This is Sebby, my nephew.”

“Sebby. How you doin', kid?” Winston asked. “Wait now? Songs for Sebby. I got it. So you’re the famous Sebby Poet’s always talking about? Great album, kid,” he said, as though I had written it myself.

“Hi,” I said, taking his hairy hand in mine and getting my arm half shook off.

“Nice to meet you,” Winston said. “Your uncle’s quite the guy, Sebby. Wouldn’t I know your parents, then? You must be one of Libby’s boys?”

“One of two, Wins,” Teal said. “You know their father, too. Tommy. I’ve taken you to Tom’s place once or twice, I think. Down in the Beaches.”

“Yes, that’s right,” he said, tracking his memory even as he was agreed with Teal. “That’s right. How’s Tom doing? I worked with him a couple of times in the studio. Great session man.”

“He actually passed in June, Wins,” Teal said.

“Oh. That’s too bad,” Winston said. “I’m really sorry, kid,” he said, turning to me. “He was a good guy. I did a few sessions with him. Really brought the studio to life, Tommy did. He could do stuff with sound that nobody else could. Knew what was wrong with a song and how to make it right. He’ll be missed.”

[KTC]

“Forget it, Billy. Let him cool down.” She tugged on my arm.

“No Marse. Let me do this.” She waited at the doorway as I entered the kitchen. I saw the blender, splattered with the remains of a mystery drink, and crushed ice melting on the counter beside it.

“But there’s booze in the blender.” I sang. “And soon it will render…”

Trig’s shoulders dropped and he shook his head. Without turning around, he said, “I hate you, Billy Manning.”

“…That frozen concoction that helps me hang on.”

He faced me, smiling like an altar boy on the verge of corruption. “Wastin’ away again in Margaritaville…searching for my lost shaker of salt.” We sang together. “Some people claim that there’s a wo-man to blame…” I winked at him as he punched my arm. “But I know…it’s my own damn fault…”

“You two are seriously fucked,” Marcy said, shaking her head. “You’re too much alike. Who the fuck sings Jimmy fucking Buffet, anyway?”

“Don’t make me sing Neil Diamond, bitch!” I said.

“She got the way to move me…” Trig sang on cue.

“Gawd!” Marcy said.

“Cherry baby!” we yelled, bursting into laughter. She shook her head once more.

But there were tears in Trig’s eyes.

“Are we okay?” I asked. He shook his head as the laughter slipped from his face. “Why’d you do that, Trig?”

“Because she’s a dumb poser bitch and she deserved…”

“I meant why’d you always let on you hated her and that you were just using her for sex if you really loved her? Why’d you do that to me? Why’d you let me…”

“For fuck sake, Billy…everything is not about you!”

He went to the fridge, opened the door and stuck his head inside. Slamming it closed, he said, “how in the name of fuck could this be a party when there’s no booze in the fridge?”

“Here,” Marcy said, reaching into a two-four on the floor and passing him a warm beer. She stepped back into the hallway and leaned against the wall.

“Where was I?” he said, opening his beer and taking a drink. “How do you expect me to share anything with you? We’re not friends anymore. We used to do everything together…”

“We still can.”

“No we can’t. You have Mike now. And let’s face it, Billy-Boy, putting the two of us together was never a very good idea. We’re like Sid and Nancy…not a good combination. Volatile to say the least.”

“Ha. I guess you have a point there…”

“What the fuck did I just do?” he said, as though he had just realized his mistake. He covered his face with his hands and shook his head.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll forgive you. She always does.”

“I’m such an asshole.” He guzzled half the bottle of beer. “She’s a good person Billy. You don’t know her like I do. So what if she’s a poser. She knows me more than anybody else. That’s what we all want, right…to be known?” His eyes glistened with the threat of more tears.

“Okay. Let’s go find her, Bud. We’ll go outside right now and find her, bring her back to the house. You can apologize and we can restart this party. I’ll even try to be nice to her for a change. Whadaya say?”

“Yeah.” He said halfheartedly. “I guess.”

Marcy rolled her eyes and I waved her off. “You might as well go back with Mike. I’m gonna help Trig find Tamara.”

[preyer]

Just for grins and giggles, sounds like he has an empty can. Instead of "a can of Pepsi," denoting something in the can.

Anyone feel that? Funny how a turnaround of words can evoke a different meaning, eh?
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i thought that, too, but i decided to leave it alone as i figured it had something to do with the character. granny may let him drink pepsi at eight years of age, but it's more likely if it was something he was drinking it would be a juice of some kind. i thought (and, yes, i actually thought this at the time as i considered in my version to have him hold a plastic bottle and dropped that) he might have picked the can up, perhaps being in a recycling phase. you know how kids can be, they go through developmental phases like that. i remember one phase where i was really nice. the world crushed that out of me, though. damn redwoods! i'll get you, and your little spotted owls, too!

anyhoo, good pick.