Having dialogue troubles, are you? Your people are real, but they sound like cardboard? Can’t nail the flow? Can’t figure out why it doesn’t sound like real conversation? When in doubt, go listen to an actual conversation. This one requires you to vacate your writing space and soak up a little real life, which is always good. (As an aside, if you ever feel compelled to write a poem/story/novel/screenplay/comic etc in which the main character is a fiction writer, you seriously need to vacate your writing space and soak up a little real life. Or maybe a lot. Go farm kelp in Bamfield, Canada. Anything but writing about writers.)
Lots of writers think of “the life” in terms of solitude, holed up in your little hovel, just the desk lamp burning, hacking out deathless prose while munching Cheetos and drinking strawberry pop. Not true. Your work is about people, for people, so you’d better know some people if you don’t want to fall into the trap of always writing about yourself. In this instance, you get to split the difference. You want to go out, but you don’t want to mingle. You want to be surreptitious. Invisible. To call a spade a spade: nosy. Your mission: eavesdrop on people’s conversations in public places. This is much easier to do in a city where personal space is at a premium; hell, if you live in New York, you probably won’t even need to leave your apartment. But you should. Get out of your normal space. Get out of yourself. Try to imagine what it’s like to walk in another person’s shoes. Feet and all.
In listening to how other people talk, you want to take note of the following:
Idiom. That’s a college word for the way a person speaks. Guys from the Bronx don’t talk like guys from Cross Plains, right? It’s “Bada-boom, bada-bing” versus “howdy, pardner.” See if you can figure out where your speakers hail from.
Pattern. Speech has rhythm. Bad rhythm cripples fictional dialogue. You may not get one hundred percent usable dialogue this way, because fictional dialogue has a different rhythm than real speech. But greater awareness of it gives you a starting point for a realistic mode.
Emphasis. Which words stand out? Why? End of a sentence? Beginning? Are verbs emphasized? Some of this ties in with idiom, but a lot of word emphasis is unique and individual.
Vocabulary. Is your speaker a Duke undergrad, home for vacation with Mummy and Daddy? Or is he a construction worker? Maybe he’s an erudite, highly articulate construction worker with a graduate degree in Physical Engineering who still likes to work a site and get his hands dirty. Okay. We know what to listen for.
What next? Your observation strategy. You want to listen, not look, and you don’t want to be caught staring (particularly not in New York, bada-boom, bada-bing). So the ideal situation is one in which you can’t see your speakers and they can’t see you. Some good locations for your field trip, with pros and cons:
1. The Bus.
Pros: Pretty easy to place yourself within earshot of several conversations without being obvious about it. Can probably get away with jotting a few lines in your notebook. If you ride alone, you might meet a handsome/beautiful seatmate who spills a brilliant, poignant life story into your ear between 7th Avenue and 53rd Street. Jot it all down, rush home, hammer it out, and boom, instant bestseller.
Cons: Riding alone increases the risk of acquiring a boring, unutterably normal seatmate who spills a boring, unutterably normal life story into your ear. Take a writing friend along. Especially in New York. The engine noise is a double edged sword; it may be harder to hear the two Coyote Ugly barmaids behind you, but chances are better that their conversation will be interesting, because they think they can’t be heard over the engine noise. Time to refine those listening skills.
2. An all-night diner or restaurant. One of those greasy spoon places that looks like an old railway car is ideal. You can sit at the counter, soak up conversations, write notes on a napkin (all real writers have a dozen shoe boxes stuffed with notes written on napkins), and get into the whole lonely night-trip romantic vibe of it.
Pros: Take a booth instead of the counter. The people behind you will be literally inches away, their backs to you. They will still shout as if no one else is in the diner. The illusion of privacy in public places is fascinating. You could write something about it. For now, just write down what they say.
Big pro: An endless supply of black coffee.
Cons: The waitress may discover you’re a writer and decide the only voice you should hear is hers. Avoid notes on napkins while she refills your coffee.
Big con: An endless supply of bad black coffee.
3. A park bench on a sunny summer day.
Pros: Beautiful locale, sunshine (if you’re a writer, you are vitamin D-deficient by nature), cute girls/guys in revealing summer clothing. Upbeat atmosphere. Energetic conversation.
Cons: Comfortable position + warm sunlight = sleep. Frisbee-induced head injury. Cute girls/guys in revealing summer clothing.
These are just suggestions. There are hundreds of possibilities, each unique to your situation and location. I recently had a blast doing this at the Mall of Americas in Minneapolis. People of every nationality and background travel through there. It was a real smørgåsbord. When you get home, go back to that sticky passage of dialogue and put your new research to work. If it doesn’t inspire, the bus will still be there next week. Ride it again. All in the name of research.
Dave Duggins
Voidgunner Press
http://www.voidgunner.homestead.com/
http://www.spacesuitsandsixguns.com
Copyright and reprinted with the permission of Dave Duggins – 2006
