November 2nd, 2011%
Whenever I’ve written dialogue by a non-American, I’ve primarily focused on the rhythm of their speech to approach a comfortable accuracy.
Certain words sound like punctuation, even in the middle of a sentence. Repetitive words hint at lazy spots in thinking, which become parenthesis for the actual intent or meaning. Volume can be erratic and modulate based on comfort rather than emphasis on meaning.
However, certain rules may apply when the dialogue hits the page. For example, a friend from Sweden sent me an e-mail, in English, with the following explanation because he used the word “forever” which Swedes type as one word in English.
There is a huge difference between Swedish and English. There’s even a page called ‘typeittogether’ in Swedish just to guide people.
Here’s a little joke about how newswedes speak and write words. In English the sentence should be ‘A brown haired nurse’. In Swedish a nurse is called ‘sicknurse’. So the proper Swedish would be ‘A brownhaired sicknurse’. When people englify or just don’t know they usually fuck it up and it turns in to ‘a brown haired sick nurse’ but what you’re really writing, the actual meaning then turns into ‘A brown hairy nurse that is sick’ or actually to put it plainly ’A sick black nurse that has hair on her body’. Not quite the same.
May 12th, 2011%
Dialogue creates white space and movement. I often use it to outline scenes.
At first, it is exciting. I can hear the conversation’s rhythm and volume. I know how the characters feel when they talk to each other and how they move. Intentions are obvious.
I’m not listening to people actually talking. This is all in my head. No green screen visual effects. Nothing visual, at all. I have no sense of their identity, appearance or location. I’m negligent with these details in real life so why would I expect more from my imagination?
All the concrete details which make a story accessible to a reader are missing. I have to do a lot of over-writing to figure out the characters. This is how the story eventually emerges.
Character appearance gets described based on how I feel the other character sees them. The describing character is in a particular mood. I can sense this from what they say. This process results in a more accurate character description for the story that what the character actually looks like.
I never care about eye color or chiseled jaws. I’m better at sensing than seeing. Details are meant for manipulation, at least in storytelling, but I would like to get better at seeing which is why I’ve taken drawing classes.
In drawing, white space and black space are visual equals. Dialogue demands the same equality, but shades of meaning and personality are a little harder to draw.
September 28th, 2010%
I’ve heard of writers plopping down in out-of-the way cafés or hole-in-the-wall dive bars to pick up a little local color. “Sit down and take notes of what real people talk about and how they say it,” the advice went. Should a writer insert this local dialogue and regional slang into a piece, wouldn’t these characters— adrift in the narrative without depth or context— be more like caricatures?
Dialogue gives writers the unique opportunity to reveal character without running afoul of the mantra, “Show, don’t tell.” Dialogue is, by its very nature, action. Whenever I am writing a scene, I am often in the scene myself, an observer watching the story unfold. Somewhere in my mind’s eye I marry my intent with what I see and this most often shines in dialogue.
My characters don’t say the same things using the same words. One character might have a sardonic spin on his phrasing, the other a cryptic slow release of information. In interacting with each other through dialogue, my characters come most alive for me.
Whenever someone asks me how I learned to write dialogue, I say, “All My Children.” I first knew of Erica Kane when she was only on her third marriage. Though I haven’t watched religiously, there’ve been years when I didn’t watch at all, the long-time characters— Erica Kane, Tad Martin, Adam Chandler— can all express the same sentiment in three unique, true-to-character ways. The way they talk is part of their character, just as real people’s speech is part of their personality.
Real dialogue isn’t overheard, but explored and created by a writer with the nuanced purpose of characterization. If a writer knows his or her characters well enough, then writing the way they talk— their dialogue— will become second nature.
Blog: http://sabrawineteer.blogspot.com
August 26th, 2010%
Learning a new language affects the way you use your first language. It’s like rearranging furniture. The small details about how you speak become more apparent, and you pay more attention to how you’re using “the space” to communicate.
Take the 10 East from Al Mafraq for about $3 and 30min. That’s where I had to speak Arabic and teach English as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Jordan. I immediately noticed and tried to reduce my reliance on colloquialism to communicate, plus we were teaching British English so my vocabulary had to change to reinforce concepts with the students.
Arabic language splits into two main types: Fus’ha (standard Arabic of the Koran and newspapers) and āmmiyya (colloquial Arabic used to buy a bebsi or pair of adibas shoes). Old people speak differently than young people, and certain teeth need to be there to make certain sounds. Plus, there are some sounds we don’t make and some sounds they don’t make.
All this is probably obvious to anyone who has lived in another country, but these same people might also admit how exhausted you get trying to be understood and understand. Sometimes, you just want to kick back and watch an episode of The Bold and the Bedouin because you can follow the drama.
What drove me crazy for about six months was not realizing that by living in Al Mafraq and working 30min away in a bedouin village, I was learning two competing dialects which mixed and cancelled each other out so neither place felt my Arabic was improving, regardless of how hard I was trying to learn.
The only thing I kept straight was the slang which was unique for each location.
August 24th, 2010%
I heard what you said, but what do I think you mean? Not just what do I think you mean, but what do you want me to think?
What are your intentions? What are you telling me about you? Sure, this looks like a nice place to sit. The food here is good. Is there something I should know?
Context. Subtext. Context. Subtext. These are the ropes.
Double Dutch is best if you ignore the ropes and focus on the rhythm. Context is boring when repeated because it’s clear and straightforward. Subtext improves with repetition because you’re locating a shared meaning. You can’t map this meaning with words.
Once you find your groove in Double Dutch, you can notice whether you’re smiling and look around a bit. Usually, this is when one of the ropes hits me, and I’m out.
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Writer Loop Official Photographer Jenny Hoover currently lives in Bellingham, WA.
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