Throwback Thursday: "How To Bring Characters To Life" Part 2: Dialogue

All right, now that you know how to establish a character’s past by working their backstory, how do you ground your character in the present?

With dialogue, of course. The setting, the mood, the direction of the plot, even how a character’s voice SOUNDS in your readers’ heads is all dependent on dialogue. We knew that the Yankee from Connecticut felt out of place in King Arthur’s Camelot because the way he spoke was different than the way they spoke. All the costumes and personality quirks in the world can’t set a character apart and bring them to life like dialogue can.

So how does one create a unique voice for a character who isn’t much more than text on a page? What makes some text sound different than other text? How can one avoid writing characters who all sound the same, much less differentiating the characters from the narrator’s own voice?

I struggled with this for a long time. I cringed whenever I came across it in other books, but I couldn’t necessarily pinpoint exactly what it was, and thus avoid it in my own writing. Sometimes, I still come across bland lines. But as far as I have learned, there are at least 5 principles to remember when writing dialogue that will bring your characters to life in the heads of your readers, to the extent that they might even “head-cast” their own movie adaptation.

To help understand what I mean, I am going to use a generic sample scene, and point out how each principle is applied.

Sample scene: (Taken from my “Clan of Outcasts” blog series)

The Black Dahlia raised dubious eyebrows at the man before her. "You look like someone I'd hire for a job, not the other way around."
He grinned, straight white teeth showing between grungy, scruffy lips. "You, of all people, should know better than to judge a book by its cover."
Dahlia rolled her eyes and pulled away; the man fairly reeked of a trap, and she felt better keeping her autonomy while chalking up the brooch as a loss.
"I've never been much of a reader," she mused, turning her back on him.
"This one will get you lifetime," he called at her back.
The force of the implication stopped her in her tracks.
He noticed. "That's right; you do this one mission and, if you come out the other side, you retire and you'll never have to work again. You'll be paid to just go on living. Heck, they might even call you a hero."
Hero—perhaps she could come out of hiding, start using her real name again; it did sound too good to be safe.
She turned back slowly. "What do you mean, if I come back?" She demanded. "I don't do suicide missions."
His bright blue gaze seemed to cut right through hers. "Not unless the cause is worth fighting for," he said.
His words seemed to lance a nerve center; her whole body went numb at the memory of—
"No!" She barked. "I take the job, I name all the terms. It's my body, I decide what risk it takes."
He grinned at her. "You can sure name them, but words do not guarantee implementation, especially not your words." He stood, still holding the brooch tightly in his gloved hand. "So, do we have a deal?"
The Dahlia pressed her lips and relaxed her stance. "I'm still thinking," she responded.
He shook his head. "Not good enough; either you accept the offer—"
"Or you can tell your employer to find another Hunter if she dares," the Dahlia hissed.

Principle 1: “Said” isn’t “dead”, but it IS nonspecific.

Use “said” when inflection and vocal tone is not important. Use specific inflection words (whisper, roar, mutter, groan, etc.) when there is a specific tone to the person’s words. This is handy for those who don’t want to use a lot of adverbs. If we use “said”, it requires an adverb to specify HOW it is said; if we use what I’m calling “inflection words” (basically any word that describes verbal communication except “said”) then the tone is established without the need of an adverb.
How does this work with our sample? Here it is again, with all the dialogue tags turned to “said.”

The Black Dahlia raised dubious eyebrows at the man before her. "You look like someone I'd hire for a job, not the other way around,” she said.
He grinned, straight white teeth showing between grungy, scruffy lips, and said, "You, of all people, should know better than to judge a book by its cover."
Dahlia rolled her eyes and pulled away; the man fairly reeked of a trap, and she felt better keeping her autonomy while chalking up the brooch as a loss.
"I've never been much of a reader," she said, turning her back on him.
"This one will get you lifetime," he said to her back.
The force of the implication stopped her in her tracks.
He said, "That's right; you do this one mission and, if you come out the other side, you retire and you'll never have to work again. You'll be paid to just go on living. Heck, they might even call you a hero."
Hero—perhaps she could come out of hiding, start using her real name again; it did sound too good to be safe.
She turned back slowly. "What do you mean, if I come back?" She asked. "I don't do suicide missions."
His bright blue gaze seemed to cut right through hers. "Not unless the cause is worth fighting for," he said.
His words seemed to lance a nerve center; her whole body went numb at the memory of—
"No!" She said. "I take the job, I name all the terms. It's my body, I decide what risk it takes."
He grinned at her and said, "You can sure name them, but words do not guarantee implementation, especially not your words." He stood, still holding the brooch tightly in his gloved hand. "So, do we have a deal?" he asked.
The Dahlia pressed her lips and relaxed her stance. "I'm still thinking," she said.
He shook his head and said, "Not good enough; either you accept the offer—"
"Or you can tell your employer to find another Hunter if she dares," the Dahlia said.
>>>>>>>>>>>>

Notice that the action and the dialogue breaks (where/when the dialogue tag is placed) is still varied, which gives a more natural flow to the conversation, but with nothing but “said” or “asked”, the sound of the whole delivery changes in your head—either that, or you’re having to work much too hard to envision just how the scene might play out!

Now go back to the original sample. Notice the one time I actually did use “said”: in conjunction with the line, “Not unless the cause is worth fighting for.” There is no particular emphasis, so an “inflection word” is not necessary. In addition, note all of the places I didn’t use a dialogue tag at all, in the original sample. Did they seem weird in the altered version, when I added “said” in every time? That’s another principle (Principle 3, to be exact), but I just wanted to point out that if you do feel like you’re saying “said” too much, leaving it out altogether is also an option.

Speaking of how to identify dialogue breaks, that brings us to our next principle:

Principle 2: When In Doubt, Act It Out.

No seriously, that’s the best thing you can do, if you’re having trouble with dialogue. The characters are already distinct in your head, now you just need to figure out how to put it on paper so that your readers can share that experience. The most effective way to do that is to walk through the scene yourself, word by word. Me, making notes on the conversation in the sample, to figure out who says what, and all, might look like this:

Dahlia: (raise eyebrows) "You look like someone I'd hire for a job, not the other way around."
Hunter: (grins) "You, of all people, should know better than to judge a book by its cover."
Dahlia: (roll eyes) "I've never been much of a reader” (turns away)
Hunter: "This one will get you lifetime,"
Dahlia stops
Hunter: "That's right; you do this one mission and, if you come out the other side, you retire and you'll never have to work again. You'll be paid to just go on living. Heck, they might even call you a hero."
Dahlia: (turns back slowly) "What do you mean, if I come back? I don't do suicide missions."
Hunter: "Not unless the cause is worth fighting for.”
Dahlia: (pained at the memory) "No! I take the job, I name all the terms. It's my body, I decide what risk it takes."
Hunter: (grins) "You can sure name them, but words do not guarantee implementation, especially not your words." (stands up) "So, do we have a deal?"
Dahlia: (purses lips) "I'm still thinking,"
Hunter: (shakes head) "Not good enough; either you accept the offer—"
Dahlia: (angry) "Or you can tell your employer to find another Hunter if she dares.”

All dialogue, not as much of the narrative omnipotence, but at least it helps me act it out. I am both characters, and I keep in mind the two personalities as I walk through the conversation. I know that “Hunter” is trying to trap her, while “Dahlia” is intent on escaping and evading every trap. He’ll say things that get her riled up, that attract her attention, and she’ll brush him off every chance she gets. When I act it out, I pay attention to my own body language: facial expressions, posture, inflection, pauses—and all of these things go into making the characters as realistic as possible.

Principle 3: Insert action to break up dialogue.

The single thing that will be most detrimental, even if you heed all others, is seeing a massive chunk of dialogue with no movement. On average, over half of a person’s communication is nonverbal, and nowhere except a cheap, low-graphic animation do you ever see characters or people standing still and talking one after another. Nor do they merely trade off speaking and performing an action. So why would you write a conversation that way?
Here’s what the scene might look like if I took out all the mid-sentence tags, and only had them either before or after the dialogue. I also cut out most of the original active descriptions, just to make the point.

The Black Dahlia raised dubious eyebrows at the man before her. "You look like someone I'd hire for a job, not the other way around."
The man grinned. "You, of all people, should know better than to judge a book by its cover."
Dahlia rolled her eyes and pulled away. "I've never been much of a reader."
"This one will get you lifetime," he stated.
The force of the implication stopped her in her tracks.
He continued, "That's right; you do this one mission and, if you come out the other side, you retire and you'll never have to work again. You'll be paid to just go on living. Heck, they might even call you a hero."
She turned back slowly. "What do you mean, if I come back? I don't do suicide missions."
"Not unless the cause is worth fighting for," he said.
She barked, "No! I take the job, I name all the terms. It's my body, I decide what risk it takes."
He grinned at her. "You can sure name them, but words do not guarantee implementation, especially not your words. So, do we have a deal?"
"I'm still thinking," she responded.
He shook his head. "Not good enough; either you accept the offer—"
"Or you can tell your employer to find another Hunter if she dares," the Dahlia hissed.
>>>>>>>>>>>>

It’s not quite as obvious, but if you read it carefully, you might notice that it feels like something is missing, some element of a conversation, as if you’re listening to it from the next room, not watching it happen in front of you. This is what happens when you reserve all action for between the full lines, especially when your characters have a lot to say.

In fact, long stretches of explanation might be the hardest to break up, because you, the writer,, have a lot that the reader needs to know, and it might seem easiest to let the character explain it all in one go. But DO NOT FALL FOR THAT. Refer back to Principle 2: if you, a wise old mentor, had an important lesson to teach your apprentice, would you seriously expect him to sit through five minutes of you just telling him things—all without moving, without interrupting or clarifying? BORING. Figure out where the facial expressions change, where the speaker changes posture, where the listener might interject, and go ahead and put it in your narration. Your characters—and thus your dialogue—will literally pop right into your readers’ head when you do!

So what do you do if you’ve attempted to follow these three principles and it still sounds flat and monotone? Well, now that we’ve set up the framework for the dialogue, the last two principles focus on the content.

Principle 4: Pay attention to context.

It makes your writing sound incredibly amateur and pulls the reader right out of the world you’ve so carefully built when you use contemporary slang in a medieval-ish fantasy world. Few things can completely waste all of your skill in character development and world building like one misused expression can. If you want your character to sound like a cliche “modern teen” that’s one thing, but any inconsistency will jar the reader right out of the book, and it will be a while before the magic is back. So choose wisely.

For this example, I’ll use another excerpt from the same series:

Nahlia smiled smugly and barked again, "Medic!"
"Coming!" The short woman in the blue cloak elbowed her way through the gathered onlookers, a basket clutched against her side. She knelt beside the patient and immediately began pouring on disinfectants and daubing the wound with sterile cloths.
"What was it this time?" she muttered, examining the gashes closely with practiced eyes, even as her hands fluttered rapidly on and around the limb. "These aren't bear claws--"
"Why does it always have to be bears?" Nahlia grunted at her. "Dumb can-heads have no idea--"
"Then what was it?" The medic's blue eyes fixed keenly on those of her patient.
"Just a few brambles I crossed, that's all."
"Lie."
Nahlia scowled. She didn't like meeting the medic's gaze. "Well, that's all the truth you're getting out of me, so there!"
"What was it?" The irritating girl never raised her voice, but she wouldn't leave well enough alone, either.
The cadet hesitated only a moment. "Wolf," she responded bluntly. "Big one. Just waiting over on the east side. Still can't get used to the lack of depth perception in my red sight."
The woman finished tucking the last bandage securely and looked up at the cadet. "Red sight?" she echoed. "What are you--"
"Agent Denahlia!" The rich, rolling voice carried on a temperate breeze. "I was hoping you would return, but I didn't expect you so soon."
Denahlia shrugged, flexing her fist and twisting her arm to test the bandage, and stood. "I found what I was looking for." As an afterthought, she bowed low to the bearded man standing before her. "Your Majesty."
>>>>>>>>

You may have noticed, but the main character in this excerpt is the same as in the other sample: Nahlia/Denahlia/Dahlia are all names for the same person. Does she sound a little different, though?

A second point: did you notice the part that had little to no dialogue tags? The conversation between “Nahlia” and “the medic”, I mean. The lines were short, and it happened quickly enough that to include dialogue tags would have outweighed the dialogue itself—yet were you confused as to who was speaking, or were you able to keep track? Did the voices still sound different, even when I didn’t describe them?

Also note: this particular character happens to have a genetic “superpower” of sorts, that gives her eyes thermal vision: the “red sight.” She doesn’t think it’s abnormal, though, because stems never known life without it. Elsewhere in the series, I have her experiencing “system upgrades” and various other types of visual enhancements, like magnification and x-ray vision—much like what we would expect from, say, an android in a sci-fi story... but since this particular setting is fantasy, I attribute the “superpowers” to a form of magic, and function from that premise.

That is the singular mark of a good writer: one who knows how to refer to a specific thing, without actually naming the thing. If you can take a concept and put it into references that your characters would understand in their own context, then you’ve succeeded in implementing this principle.

Principle 5: Let Characters Speak For Themselves.

Nobody uses perfect grammar when they speak. It makes one sound either bland and robotic or insufferably snooty. Use this to your advantage. If you have a stuffy character, or a robot, use perfect grammar, maybe even eliminate adverbs and contractions in their speech. If the character is a generic townsperson, or a “commoner”? They might shorten their words, or even speak with the words in a different order. They’ll split infinitives and dangle their modifiers; most people when they talk even manage to make a habit of ending their sentences with prepositions! Of course, you, as the narrator, should always seek to use proper grammar when doing third-person narration, but the same constraints do not apply when you’re creating a character’s “voice.”

For this last example, I’m going to use a conversation between two characters, but I’m only using the lines. See if you can picture the characters as they speak. If you can, I’m doing it right.

Sample:
"Ye tha'un sellin' that-thar truck, m'lad?"
Arthur glanced up and appraised the speaker.
"Yes," he answered the man's inquiry.
"Ye don't sound too pleased with there merchandise."
Arthur shook his head. "Oh no, I'm pleased, all right. It's just..." He sighed. "I would rather not, but I don't have a choice. I—we need the money."
"Aye," the man nodded. "I den't ha' much o' the moanies mesel', but I kin halps the folk who need it. Ye say ye den't ha' the choosin', but I kin make ye'n offer what gives another way."
"How do you mean?"
"How would ye like a job, instead o' sellin' tha truck?"
Arthur bounded to his feet. "You would give me a job? What kind of job?"
"Ever seen a dragon, lad?"
Arthur snorted. "No; dragons don't exist."
The man waggled his eyebrows. "But they might; I be searchin' fer one mesel'. Been searchin' everywhere I can, tryin' ta find one. Legend says they once roamed the world; now all that's left is pieces of their hoard." The man reached under some flap of cloth and pulled out a jingling leather bag. "And that's how I mean to find it."

(Excerpt from “Arthur And The Egg”, DREAMTIME DRAGONS ANTHOLOGY)

What did you picture? A scruffy old vagrant speaking with a young man? Did the old man have a creaky voice? What did the boy look like? Was it a little strange to think of dragons and trucks in the sand scene? Do you trust the old man or not?

It may help to picture the character first, and then imagine what sort of voice they might have. If you’ve been following this series from the beginning, you know that the foremost aspect of character development lies in their backstory, and the way it establishes their past. The dialogue of a character brings their present to life in the mind of your reader, and the right sort of dialogue will shape who that character becomes to your reader, and their perception of your story and the world building around said characters. With dialogue you can clarify who is the hero, and who is the villain.

So... Backstory shapes the past, dialogue shapes the present... what shapes the future for your characters? What aspect of building a character will round them out more fully, to really give your readers a sense of reading about actual, living people?

Find out next week!

COMING UP NEXT:

"How To Bring Characters To Life, Part 3: Motivation"