Hygiene routines face a shake-up at one of Wales’ leading hospitals after an undercover BBC investigation.
Before we talk shop about the best way to tag dialogue, permit me to illustrate the wrong way. Let’s bring some nursery rhyme characters to life for this, since they aren’t around to get offended:
The lamb, always sure to be where Mary was, watched Mary shellac her hair in place.
“Mary, you’re a scream,” the lamb chortled. “The aerosol helmet look went out in the 80s.”
“Oh, Petal,” Mary gushed, “you say the funniest things. I figured you were a dumb sheep until you started talking one day. Who knew?”
“That’s just it, you don’t know much about me,” Petal announced dejectedly. “Do you realize that I have not been a lamb for eons, Mary? A lamb is a sheep under a year old. Not a whole ‘nother species.”
Mary coughed and tried to wave away the misty cloud of spray that hovered near her face. “Uh-huh. Interesting, Petal,” she wheezed.
“This is a good time to bring something up,” Petal broached warily, brushing a piece of lint off his haunch. “I think it’s time we…you know…went our own ways.”
“What?” she exclaimed with disbelief.
“You heard me,” Petal continued seriously. “You know that kid in your Trig class, the one with the ripped knees in his jeans and the skull patches on his denim jacket? I plan to follow him home today.”
“Dylan?” Mary shrieked, cackling. “He’s a hunter, Pet. He shoots things for fun.”
“Maybe so,” the lamb acquiesced solemnly. “But at least he’d name me something with a little more oomph than ‘Petal,’ for crying out loud.”
“What’s wrong with Petal?” Mary echoed shrilly. “It’s better than ‘Snowflake,’” she growled. “How many options do you think the ‘fleece was white as snow’ gives me?”
“Not cool for a dude, Mare. Not virile,” the lamb proclaimed with dignity, puffing up his chest. He saw her broken face, softened, and went on. “Look, we had some fun, kiddo,” he said gently, “memories of the heart.” He pressed his hoof to his chest and closed his eyes.
“But I’ll miss you so much,” Mary sobbed sorrowfully. “Your kooky ears with the pink insides, your funny little bleating when you get hungry, your smell like dryer sheets and straw and — “
Okay, okay. You get the idea.
So, what’s wrong with it? Other than there isn’t much of market for talking farm animals (unless you’re writing for kids, and even then it’s a tough sell); other than it upsets our notions about the docile, one-woman lamb and the autonomous Mary; other than the fact that it’s impossible to speak and cackle or speak and sob at exactly the same time. Yes, the dialogue tags — they’re so thick and dramatic and distracting that they compete with the dialogue itself, nearly eclipsing the things the characters say.
Remember — dialogue tags have one function and one function only: to help the reader identify who’s speaking at any given time, and only when that clue is necessary.
The dialogue tags in the above example violate the rules of good writing on a few different levels:
Outlandish verbs.
It’s true that ultra-specific, electric verbs are usually far better than weak, wall-flower ones. But not in dialogue. Notice how your attention was pulled toward those dense, overly dramatic verbs instead of on the speech that preceded them. Also, the tags are heavy with adverbs. We all should limit our use of adverbs, since — in excess — they clutter and confuse prose.
Overkill.
There are too many dialogue tags in general. When the particulars of a character’s speech make it clear who is speaking, just cut the tag altogether. We know that Mary and Petal are the only players in the scene, so if a sentence begins “Mary,” we assume Petal has the floor. We don’t need to have the characters’ interactions slowed down by being reminded the lamb (sorry…sheep) is speaking. We already know that. (And this also falls under the sound advice to trust your readers.)
For heaven’s sake, can’t they just SAY something?
Another way the dialogue tags fail in the above example is by avoiding the powerful simplicity of SAID. Because readers are so used to seeing “said,” the word blends into the background; although the brain acknowledges it, it’s only a brief blip on the screen of awareness. The eye skims over it and moves on to the next detail. It’s as close to seamless as we can get in the world of character-speak. And that means using “said” or “says” instead of clunky adverbs leaves more room in our awareness to focus on the nuances of the dialogue itself.
This doesn’t mean that you can never have your characters shriek or announce or proclaim. (But please don’t have them growl. Humans really don’t growl.) It just means that they should simply “say” things more regularly than they declare them (or exclaim them or snap them). Create dialogue that itself sets a mood and reveals character intention; what’s inside the quotation marks should do that more often, not what’s adjacent.
The author’s hand is too heavy.
When we read, we want to lose ourselves in the story and forget about the author. With so much bric-a-brac cluttering the dialogue above, we’re constantly reminded that the author set it all up. The best dialogue puts the power in the characters’ mouths and lets the author slink backstage.
When we see the characters clearly and vividly, we tend to forget about the author, a delicious amnesia that perpetuates the illusion that what we’re reading is actually happening as we visualize it. So the most effective dialogue is interspersed with specific visual descriptions of the scene at hand, things that the characters are doing while they speak, things that help us see while we hear. Even the best dialogue will become monotonous and plodding if it marches on alone page after page. Be sure to break yours up with bits of relevant, interesting narrative.
Ask yourself:
Is your dialogue itself as specific and fresh as it can be?
If you want your characters to speak emphatically, are you lending them emphatic words, or are you trying to emphasize the dialogue tag instead?
Have you deliberately shaped your characters’ speech so that it reveals something about their motives and the story in general? Or is the dialogue the take-it-or-leave it variety, the sort that really doesn’t say anything at all if you lift it out of the story?
Are your characters speaking in a vivid way, or are they puppets hooked to strings of adjectives and adverbs?
Do all your characters sound alike, or have you given them subtle differences the reader can hear (but aren’t distracted or confused by)?
Now revisit Mary and Petal and delete any unnecessary dialogue tags (but leave in details that show what the two are doing in time and space). Tone down the tags that need to remain by erasing adverbs and substituting over-the-top verbs for the quiet helpfulness of “said.”
When it’s important to see what a character is doing, dramatize behaviors, mannerisms and gestures — not the words that were already spoken, since those should resonate on their own. Challenge yourself to write dialogue that speaks for itself (along with a little help from good old “said”).
Lucia Zimmitti is a writing coach and independent editor who publishes “Write Through It,” a free e-newsletter that offers tips on writing more clearly and effectively as well as ways to manage the inevitable frustrations that go along with getting your ideas on paper. To sign up for this free, monthly newsletter, visit .
Lucia is a member of the Society of Children’s Writers and Illustrators and the Editorial Freelancers Association. Her fiction and poetry have been published in various national literary journals, and she has taught writing at the high school and college levels.
Chess Miscellaneous
http://www.computethat.co.uk
http://www.tooboring.com
Share This