Interior Dialogue—The Bad

interior

Interior Dialogue—The Bad

As covered in the previous post, the use of interior dialogue is a useful device in a writer’s toolbox. But it can be a double-edged weapon to wield. Let’s discuss its downsides.

Tell dressed up in sheep’s clothing

Let’s assume you are coming to a critical point in your plot which you express as:

Aidan thought, “I’ve got to do something. I’m too impatient to let this just happen. Just because Peggy told me yesterday that we were through doesn’t mean I have to buy it.”

You want to establish Aidan’s impatience and his breakup with Peggy as key points in your story. But actually, you haven’t. Or at least not well. Using interior dialogue this way is a kind of a cheat TELL. This is the most common misuse of interior dialogue.

When an event/characteristic is important to your plot, you’ve got to slow down and give it the space it deserves. You need to show the impatience. Aidan jumps up, paces the room, and/or writes an ill-advised text to Peggy.  You need to let the reader be a fly on the wall when Peggy and Adrian have their final blow-up. What she said, then what he said, she said, he said, etc.

There are some pragmatic reasons for expanding on important plot points. First, if you don’t, the reader is unlikely to remember this almost off –the-cuff treatment and may be confused about the protagonist’s motivation farther into the narrative. Secondly, even if she remembers, she won’t be convinced emotionally of its veracity because she hasn’t seen it for herself, so to speak.

However, it is possible that this is not an important plot point (although sort of hard to see how it wouldn’t be). If it isn’t, you might be able to get away with it. But it’s still TELL in quotes.

In action/high tension sequences

What if you are writing a high tension scene? You want your reader on the edge of her chair. Would this work?

Brad’s head jerked up. Something was happening in the cabin. A whiff of smoke was coming out of the chimney. Oak probably, although it might be pine. Brad started to creep forward.

Well, it’s not a chargeable offense but Brad is presumably keyed up and as tense as you hope your reader is. In this situation, I think that this bit of internal dialogue is not only unnecessary but distracting. In an emergency situation, do you notice how pretty the accident victim’s dress is? Or remark on the fluffy blue clouds as you are tumbling down the mountain to your death? These are not good places for internal dialogue.

If the type of wood is significant to the plot (although I am blanking as to how), you can have Brad think about it after the high tension situation is concluded.

Excess use

Yes, Hamlet can spend the whole play agonizing about his choices and let’s face it, we buy it. He thinks his way through and delays action in pretty much the whole play but it works. But because of the particular genius of Shakespeare. There is another set of rules for the rest of us.

And the rule is: Shit or get off the pot.

Audiences, particularly modern ones, just don’t have a lot of tolerance for vacillating protagonists. A certain amount of interior dialogue is okay as the character is deciding what to do but sooner rather than later, he must act. If he continues his indecision too long he’ll likely be seen as weak, dithering, and even morally bankrupt.

So, by all means use interior dialogue (only one POV, please) but be aware of when and how to use it.

Interior Dialogue

interior

Interior Dialogue

In the last post, I discussed the reasons for sticking with one Point of View (POV) to allow the reader to get to know your main character. One of the prime ways is through interior dialogue. Just so we’re talking the same language, an example is: “I can’t do this,” Cecelia thought. “I’ll be humiliated.

How it’s useful

Most writers make great use of the main character’s thoughts to move the novel forward. Here are some ways you can use it to create the effects you want.

Make the character more likeable/despicable

The protagonist’s actions can be quite appalling or even just questionable but you keep the sympathy of the reader through his thoughts. “I have to do it. I can’t let him down.”  Or “No, no! It wasn’t supposed to happen this way!”

Similarly, you can show the character being nicey-nicey all the while having contemptuous thoughts. “Yes, I’ll donate to your charity, you windbag.” Or “Why doesn’t somebody tell her she looks a drowned cat?”

Of course, you can’t have this conflict between thoughts and actions go on forever. Sooner or later, you need to show a critical action by your POV character which is true to his thoughts. Another way to resolve this is to show the protagonist acting in a way which confirms that he is lying to himself. Either option allows the reader to come to her own conclusion on her feelings about the character.

Explain motivation

In old stage melodramas, this is the part where the villain twirls his moustache and announces to the audience what he is planning to do and why. You have a much easier way. The villain can think it. Arthuro’s eyes drew down to slits. “Not yet,” he thought. “Not now. It needs to hurt more.”

Having said that, and once again, you need to show the villain acting on his motivation to make the story credible.

Bind the reader to the main character

If your reader knows your hero’s inner most thoughts, it can increase her affection for or interest in the protagonist. As in real life, understanding a person’s vulnerabilities and secrets, exposing the soul beneath the façade, creates and sustains an emotional bond.

I want to give you an example of this but I’ve concluded that I can’t do it in a paragraph. Getting to the soul of the character needs the context of his life and events which affect it to be credible. In fact, a novel.

So access to the protagonist’s thoughts can be an important and useful tool

Do I have to use interior dialogue?

You don’t have to, of course but things can go one of two ways if you don’t.

A tour de force

Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses is brilliant. He writes about cowboys—not ones for lots of mental angst, you would think—but he never enters the mind of the main character. And yet, he communicates what the protagonist thinks and feels through his actions. Amazing achievement.  Similarly with Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, we know Brodie through her girls and their parents but never from Brodie herself.

A total bust

But avoiding interior dialogue can also result in a novel which feels superficial. Without it, the reader may feel she doesn’t get to know the hero. The novel can also feel as if it is floating at the surface of the truth it is trying to get at.

So, you don’t have to use it but prepare to have a dazzling way to achieve what interior dialogue does.

But there are some real downsides to this technique. Next post.

Explanation in Quotes

explanation

Explanation in Quotes

I have already talked about the problems caused by extensive blocks of explanation or exposition. Although a reader needs to know stuff for the plot or memoir to proceed, blocks of explanation can also slow down the action and often is more tell than show.

Some writers believe that they are getting around this problem by having one or more of the characters convey what they want to get across. Here is an example.

The doctor said, “I need to refer you to an ophthalmologist. Not an optometrist. An ophthalmologist is a physician specializing in injuries and diseases affecting the eye. He can do surgery, too. Not that you will necessarily need that but I want to check your field of vision. They have a test where you click on a clicker when you see a bright light. It determines that you have good peripheral vision. It only takes a few minutes.

“Now, I don’t want you to worry. It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry.”

Actually, explanation in quotes often goes on for much longer but I’m trying to save your time and eyes.

What’s wrong with explanation in quotes (EIQ)?

EIQ differs from our old friend As-You-Know, Bob. If you remember, As-You-Know dialog communicates information to the reader by reminding a character (Bob, in this case) of it even though Bob already knows. But EIQ is communicating information which is news to the speaker’s audience. So, in that way, it could be seen as a step up or a lesser sin. And the problem is not so much an individual incident of EIQ but a multitude of them in a novel or memoir.

Multiple EIQs slow forward action. It is as if we are all poised to start the race and have to stop to listen to a lecture on sportsmanship. Even if we need to know the information, it delays action that the reader/runner was anticipating.

How to do explanation so it doesn’t slow things down

Cut it down to the pertinent facts.

First, you need to decide if this piece of information is critical to your story (e.g. protagonist is going blind) or incidental (e.g. she has hit her eye so she later misses a clue which she would have seen out of the corner of her eye).

If it isn’t critical, you can probably get away with something like:

The doctor said, “I want to refer you to a specialist in eyes. To check your field of vision. Now, I don’t want you to worry. It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry.”

Break up the explanation

If the information is critical, then give it the prominence it deserves and make it part of the story.

The doctor said, “I’d like to refer you to an ophthalmologist.”

I sat up straighter. “What’s that?”

“Eye specialist. I’d like him to check your peripheral vision.”

“My vision? What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry.”

“But then why the referral?”

You get across the main information while also communicating your protagonist’s concern/tension. A bonus.

Finding a way to dramatize critical information makes it more likely your reader will take it in and contribute to the forward action rather than slowing it down.

He Uttered! He exclaimed!

uttered

He Uttered! He exclaimed!

“You almost always know when you’re reading a novice writer,” she uttered, “Because the dialogue goes something like this:

“I hope this works,” Sheila whispered.

“Of course it will!” Norm shouted.

“Well, no need to get shirty,” she uttered.

“Then stop second-guessing me,” he barked.

“I am not!” she exclaimed.

“You are always interfering!” he roared.

“I am not.” she protested.

What is wrong with this? Well, in the sins of the world, it’s not really high up, but consider this revision.

“I hope this works,” Sheila whispered.

“Of course it will!” Norm shouted.

“Well, no need to get shirty.”

“Then stop second-guessing me!”

“I am not!”

“You are always interfering!”

“I am not.”

Reads better, don’t you think? Even though all I did was remove most of the speaker attributions. Why is it more effective? Let’s talk.

Uttered, etc. is preening

A while back, in a post called Creating the Continuous Dream, I discussed how writers must create a world into which the reader can be totally immersed. And how even small things can kick the reader out of the dream and thus out of your story.

The use of fancy-dancy dialogue tags is an example of breaking the dream for the reader. You want her to be engrossed in your story and not pulled up short (i.e. ejected from the dream) to pay attention to the variety of your speech attributions.

But isn’t variety good?

Normally, yes. With most of your writing, you want to vary your terms. Look at this example: It’s important to understand the importance of not being a name dropper of important people. Clunky. It’s more readable to say, it’s important not to name-drop. So typically, you want to avoid repetition.

The one exception is speech attribution where using ‘said’ frequently or exclusively is the way to go. When characters are talking, you want to highlight the fascinating and insightful conversation without at the same time, implicitly communicating Look at me! Look at how erudite I am!

The emotion or manner of speaking needs to come from what the characters say, not how the writer tells the reader they are saying it. Look at the revised dialogue above. The feeling comes from the characters’ interaction; the reader doesn’t need the writer to tell her that.

Can I never use other tags?

Well, as in all writing, things are rarely cast in concrete.

For example, it’s okay to vary the tags if the reader needs additional information. In the above example, the reader probably should realize that Norm responded to Sheila’s whisper with shouting. You will undoubtedly explain why as the story progresses.

But often with a two-person dialogue, you don’t need tags at all once you’ve established who is speaking (as in the example above).

If you want to communicate how a character is speaking, substitute an action for an appellation. Let’s do the example once again.

“I hope this works,” Sheila whispered.

“Of course it will!” Norm shouted.

“Well, no need to get shirty.”

“Then stop second-guessing me!”

“I am not!” Sheila poked him in the side.

“You are always interfering!” He brushed her hand aside.

“I am not.”

Actually, I don’t love this iteration. I prefer to let the characters’ personalities speak for themselves but if you need to convey a reaction, use their actions to do so.

(Yes, I know I used ‘dialogue’ a lot in this piece—I think I can add another exception—technical terms).

Conversation versus Fictional Dialog

Conversation

Conversation versus Fictional Dialog

Here’s how a real conversation goes:

“Hi, Jen,” I said.

“Hi, Frances,” she replied. “Can you believe the weather?”

“Unbelievable. They’re predicting more snow tomorrow.”

“And then the temperature is going up so there might be freezing rain.”

I shook her head. “I can’t wait for spring.”

“Me, too. Hey, did you see the news last night?”

“I know, would you believe the gall of the guy?”

 

Okay, I’ll stop it there. We’ve all had these conversations and there is nothing wrong with them as lubricant to social interaction. But as dialog, they are deadly and break the unwritten laws of fiction of which your reader is unaware but you ignore at your peril.

The problem with real life

Let’s assume the conversation above is intended as fictional dialog. What’s wrong with it?

  • First, it is just noise unless your story is about an impending tornado or the comeuppance of the guy with the gall (but if it is one or the other, one part of the conversation is unneeded). Readers get bored with extraneous stuff and quit reading.
  • Second, the dialog doesn’t have a purpose. By that I mean, it doesn’t move the story forward, either by showing something about the characters we need to know or by disclosing part of the plot.

How to make your dialog read like conversation

The answer is not to vow, “Right, I’m going to decide the purpose of this dialog before I start writing.” If you do, you’ll probably end up with quite a stilted scene. Let the dialog flow as it might in conversation (minus the extraneous bits), but get to the point quickly.

Another equally effective way is to write the initial draft of the dialog as feels right. When you have finished the story and are in edit mode, consider each piece of dialog to see whether it contributes to the story or character development. If it does, great. Doubt? Try to identify how it helps the story. If you can’t, this might be a candidate for the chopping block. 

Conversation revisited

Let’s redo the conversation above to make it useful dialog in a story. The first redo is if the story is about an impending tornado and the second about the galling guy.

Impending tornado

“My god, did you see the weather forecast?” Jen asked.

“I know, tornadoes! That’s crazy this far north,” I said. “And on top of all the snow and freezing temperatures.”

“This has got to be climate change,” she said.

Story might end up being about climate change; might not. But this version immediately introduces the main topic. No greetings, no small talk.

Galling guy

Jen tossed her bag on her desk. “Did you see McFarlane on the news last night?”

“Unbelievable,” I said. “The gall of the guy.”

“He’ll stoop to anything.”

“Of course, will anybody be able to prove that he’s lied?”

Same thing—use the dialog to move the story forward even if it is simply setting the scene for more complicated events later.

 

Conversation is actually quite different from dialog in that it doesn’t need to go somewhere whereas dialog does. Another example of where saying “But that’s how it really happened,” gets the response, “And what’s your point?”