In writing, every “rule” exists to achieve something specific. And yes—rules can be broken. But before one is broken, the writer needs to understand what the rule is meant to accomplish. Then decide whether that goal can be achieved using a different technique, or the rule just doesn’t apply here.
Not confusing your reader is rule number one. You don’t want a reader to have to stop to figure out who’s saying what. Or worse, to give up reading in frustration. That is usually handled with dialog tags—“I’m leaving,” she said—or beats—She stood and gathered her things. “I’m leaving.”
“Said” is supposedly invisible to the reader. It’s true that the eye tends to skim over it while the brain registers the meaning. It’s unobtrusive and can be used repeatedly to clarify who is talking without adding a lot of padding.
But it’s not entirely invisible. A long page of “Joan said…” followed by “Harry said…” over and over risks becoming a distraction to the reader. Those of us who struggle with writing for venues that list strict word counts hate to waste our valuable words on things like “said.”
And sometimes, despite the warnings not to make the tags hover noticeably in the background, more colorful or descriptive tags are appropriate. “Watch out for the alligator!” she screamed. Yes, the “screamed” is intrusive. It will probably register with the reader. It’s an urgent situation, and here it’s meant to be intrusive.
Dialog beats get around the constant use of “said.” They also provide context, display character tendencies, and can nudge the story along.
When there’s a great deal of information to be conveyed via dialog, the characters will often be seated at a dining table. Lots of opportunities for meaningful beats. The character slouched in a diner booth nervously shredding paper straw wrappers and lining the pieces up on the Formica tabletop presents a much different image than the character standing primly in an elegant private dining room, oyster fork poised in her fingers.
Characters can sip their champaign. They can gulp their beer. They can lick the salt off the rims of their margarita glasses. They can stir their tea. They can eye the contents of their red Solo cups suspiciously.
One-sided dialog can be startlingly effective. The presentation is oral, but Bob Newhart’s “No One Will Ever Play Baseball,” given over the phone, is pure genius.
Even the “don’t confuse the reader” rule can have exceptions. If the intended purpose is to create a chaotic scene, a hectic deluge of unattributed dialog can help. Although I have seen that done effectively, I have never been able to create that feeling. When I have tried, I just ended up confusing myself. So I can only imagine how a reader would react.
Real life dialog is full of “you-knows”, “uhs,’ and other hems and haws. Learning to speak without falling back on such meaningless interjections is one of the major goals of public speaking lessons, but most people fill their speech with them. The admonition writers get is to avoid them.
But they do have their place. Once again, consider the effective comedy skits. Carol
How long should a dialog passage be? The rule of thumb is that in exchanged dialog, one person seldom speaks for more than three sentences before the other participant responds.
Once again, there are exceptions. Lectures, rants, and giving instructions often go on for much longer than that. The point of the rule is to keep the story moving along. If a situation calls for a longer passage, that’s what should be there.
Some situations call for such longer passages. A Sovereign Citizen in court is like to start spouting a set statement about being a live person and the court not having jurisdiction. The judge may very well permit the defendant to have such a say (although in this situation, the author may revert to a “tell” vs. “show” by letting the character start the monolog but reverting to “He continued to rant semi-coherently for the next six minutes.) The judge who sits there quietly and thanks the defendant when she finally shuts up, the proceeds while ignoring all that was said, runs a different courtroom than the one who tries to answer the defendant’s concerns. Undoubtedly in vain.
Regionalisms and local terms can spice up the story, especially if the meaning is clear. Residents of some places may throw the door wide and invite visitors to “Come away in.” It is a regionalism, but most people will not have to stop to wonder what it means. Slang can be colorful, but it can date a story as surely as having a character hitch a yoke of oxen to a cart to go into town. The reader is quite aware that he is not headed for the center of modern-day Cincinnati.
Same goes for foreign phrases. Most people know what a pied de terre is but would be mystified by a reference to carne cruda all piemontese. If it’s easily understood, fine. Otherwise, proceed with caution.
Since some readers will abandon a story at the first sign of profanity or blasphemy, authors need to be aware of the reaction they may get when using such expletives. Or curses. Or even prayers. A college professor will speak differently than a long-haul truck driver, who in turn will speak differently than a homie from the ‘hood.
People tend to be more casual in their everyday speech than they are in more formal settings of their writing, and their dialog should reflect that. In fragments of sentence even. Most people use contractions unless they are making an effort to be very precise. Or are non-native speakers who have learned a very formal version of English.
Dialog should sound natural, not stilted. In most cases, just go ahead and say it, and it should be fine.
