At this week’s meeting of
the writer’s group, we listened to the latest efforts of Annette, one of the
gang’s bright stars. Her story continues
to draw all of us in with her descriptive narration. But when it comes to
dialog, she’s been having difficulty getting the flow right.
I explained that the
conversation between the characters can also help move the story along. It can
provide details you haven’t shared in the narrative. It can convey emotions.
Dialog can be used to convey attitude and to offer another peek behind the
curtain as to your players’ characteristics.
And it can be used in the background, add to a subplot.
I’m a dialog junkie.
Books that are long on narrative and short on dialog don’t engage me as a
reader as much as those that incorporate those conversations. The pacing can be
faster or slower, depending on the mood of the scene. Sometimes I’ve even skipped lengthy paragraphs
of narration to get to the ‘juicy’ parts where the characters are
interacting. As I mentioned this to the
group, I noticed several heads bobbing in agreement.
Dialog. Where would we be
without it?
Here’s an example of
dialog from the Jamie Richmond mystery “Fleeing Beauty”.
“Hello, Mr. Mundy. I was hoping you’d be here.” He took my hand and did
the knuckle kiss thing. Beside him was Jocelyn, the exotic beauty with the
raven hair. She was wearing a very tight red dress that accentuated her
curvaceous figure. Jocelyn offered me a demure smile and nod. I took his arm
and guided him around the gallery. Jocelyn followed. Mundy made appreciative
remarks after the first couple of pieces. My impatience took over.
“I don’t know whether to be pissed or
pleased by your actions, Harry.”
“Perhaps some common ground between the two
would be appropriate.”
My Irish temper flared. “You are one crafty son of a
bitch.”
“I will deign to take that as a compliment.”
This was not the place to make a scene, so I kept my voice low as I
moved him along. “You tagged my phone with some kind of high-tech global
positioning device.” I saw him about to speak and waved it away. “Of course,
you yourself didn’t do it. Your darling daughter here did.”
Jocelyn leaned forward. “I told you not to underestimate her,” she said
in a sing-song voice. In my peripheral vision, I saw her smile and wink at me.
Harrison was unflustered. "That is quite an engaging tale. Please
continue. You really are quite resourceful, Jamie.”
“Cut the crap, Harry. I’d like the truth. I think you owe me that
much.”
“As you wish. Jocelyn is
in fact my daughter.”
2 comments:
I was there too, not in your novel of course but in that group. She really is doing well and we talked more about dialogue at lunch. An amazing group of people. Still can't believe you are going.
I was there too. The group is a source of inspiration, and we receive thoughtful feedback from each other. We're going to miss Mark's presence, but all is not lost. We have learned things from Mark and from each other that have helped us become stronger writers. And our progress is evident at every meeting. I believe Mark will continue to be our mentor; even though the distance between us has increased. All of our lives have been enriched by our interactions with each other. And so,Semper Fi, Folks... On some dark and stormy night, we'll meet Patsy and Jack, maybe outside the dollar store and head on down to the Vinyl Cafe where Mark can put on his bartender apron and rustle up some lemonade... or something!
Post a Comment