I had the most sublime moment the other day, watching a scene take place right outside my kitchen window, serving as a brilliant example of how truly ironic nature can be.
The cushions of our lawn-chairs have been partially covered by a cut-up piece of blanket, because the cats shed and their furr cover the niceness of our cushions otherwise, and upon one of the blankets was a little sparrow, jumping about, collecting furr in her beak to use as lining for her nest. I found this absolutely marvellous. Her chicks will hatch into a nest lined with the furr of one of the more serious predators they're bound to encounter, once they're airborne. If that isn't irony at its most beautiful, then I don't know what is.
:)
x's
Annie.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
The Basics - Part Three: DIALOGUE
The Difficulties
I have read numerous scripts on urbis.com, and they all have - in my humble opinion - the same problem, which is that they hold the characters' breath instead of allowing them to breathe life into the story: dialogue heavy with description and character revalations, and/or dialogue which is flat and uninteresting and does nothing for the plot whatsoever. Both of these need to be slaughtered so that your baby might live. Live, I tell you, live!
Dialogue is difficult. Repeat after me - dialogue is difficult. But it doesn't have to be impossible. Where do you draw inspiration for the dialogue of your characters? Well, obviously from real life, but ask yourself where your characters came from? If they came from real life already, and they're shaped in your head with a visual of what they look like, how they move, what their history is and where they wish to go - then shouldn't all this help in deciding what kind of voice to give them? And if you've striven, as we all do, to give each and every character in your story their very own set of quirks and tics - humanistics,as I like to call them - then shouldn't each voice become individual on their own?
I have written screenplays for going on five years now, and I've been writing stories my whole life (well, the twenty-five years that I have lived of it) and I feel that it isn't until now that all these things are finally beginning to come together for me. I'm beginning to recognize the little things that make up the bigger things, so I totally understand the difficult part of the dialogue-character-plot=story equation, but if you get yourself thinking of the little things, the bigger things are sure to fall into place.
The Little Things
Let me begin by giving you an example of heavy exposition/overuse of dialogue.
"Hi."
"Hello."
"Where've you been?"
"At the market."
"At the market?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Why did you go to the market at eight-thirty in the morning?"
"We were out of bread."
"Did you get some?"
"Yes."
"That's good. What kind of bread did you get?"
"That nutty one you like."
"Thanks. Is that what's in the basket?"
"Yeah."
"Should I carve it, then?"
"Why not."
"Would you like a slice?"
"Sure."
"With butter?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Okay. I'll bring it over in a second."
This is flat, uninteresting dialogue about trifles. It has no push and pull, no conflict whatsoever. Now, if you're writing a drama, sometimes it's necessary to have an everyday type of conversation, but let's see if we can't make this one a bit more interesting:
"Where've you been?"
"The market."
"The market? You left without telling me, you know I hate waking up alone."
"Sorry, babe. Wanted to get some bread for breakfast. Got that nutty kind you like."
"You're the nutter. Give it here, then. I'll carve it. Go have a seat."
"Heavy on the butter now."
"You'll clog your arteries with that stuff."
"Yes, dear."
And how would it look if we add some description to it?
Daniel climbed the steps taking him to the back door, halting in the doorway at the sight of Imogen, whose hair was tangled from sleep and who was wearing nothing but his oversized shirt. He was about to smile at her when he registered the look on her face - it wasn't happy.
"Where've you been?" she asked, rather snappishly.
"The market," he replied lightly, holding up the basket in his hand as some sort of proof.
The pout on her mouth reduced itself to about a quarter of its previous protrution, but since it didn't go away completely, he quickly deduced that he wasn't out of the woods yet.
"The market?" she repeated, and he thought he could detect a huff somewhere behind the two words, as though she found the idea perpostreous and was determined to wrench the truth out of him. "You left without telling me," she then added, the pout threatening to return to its former proclamation of her malcontent, but something not far from insecurity seemed to hold it back. "You know I hate waking up alone," she finished, and he did pick up on the small accusation in that sentence, making him approach her with as innocent an expression as he had ever worn.
"Sorry, babe," he apologized, wanting to keep the breezy tone so that he could settle the mood threatening to take over the peace of their first morning together. "Wanted to get some bread for breakfast. Got that nutty kind you like," he tried, seeing the clouds in her gaze scatter as he placed the basket on the counter.
"You're the nutter," she murmured, though he could tell she was appeased. "Give it here, then," she added as he proceeded with bringing the bread out of its current residence, not waiting for him to hand it over as she simply took it out of his grasp, waving at him as she said: "I'll carve it. Go have a seat."
He smirked, not taking his eyes off her as he rounded the kitchen table and sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs she insisted were keep-sakes she couldn't do away with, leaning back as he watched her bring out a bread knife and begin to slice the bread, evenly, thickly.
Once she was done she seemed apt to serve them as they were and he put his hands behind his head as he instructed:
"Heavy on the butter, now."
She sighed. He loved it when she cared.
"You'll clog your arteries with that stuff," she grumbled and his smirk was re-born.
"Yes, dear," he replied, receiving a not-so-amused glare from her as she headed to the coolling box to bring out the treasured flavor-booster.
It cost ten broonies for just one ounce of the stuff, but it was worth it; and, at least, he could afford it.
Bit more character? Bit more interesting to follow the converstion when something else is happening besides them chatting, standing face to face on the floor, or seated at a table? Yes?
If this was a scene in a script, could we do it without any dialogue at all?
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
It's small, lived-in and with a comfortable disarray of kitchen-y things on the counters.
IMOGEN (20) wanders back and forth between counter and kitchen table. She is in obvious dismay.
A car door slams.
She stops, facing the kitchen door.
DANIEL (22) is seen through the door's net. He enters the room and halts once he notices Imogen.
Her dismay is now palpable. He sees it.
She is about to say something. He stops her by moving up to her, pulling a parcel out of the basket. He hands it to her with a meaningful - almost reproachful - look, before leaving the room.
She hesitates, but unwraps it.
It's a piece of bread.
She's somewhat regretful for the accusing stare she delivered. She doesn't go after him. Instead she heads to the counter, putting the bread down. She gets out a very large carving knife and begins to slice the bread.
END SCENE.
It's interesting to do a scene with no dialogue, I think. To push yourself into thinking more of body language, of how the actor or actress can deliver the mood, tell the reader with actions rather than words what is going on in his or her mind. It's such powerful stuff and it can be wonderful to watch.
And seriously, who ever talks like the people in Dialogue 1? Nobody is that stiff. Well, unless it's part of their character, but then that's the voice of that one character, not every character of the whole piece.
Listen to your own instincts, and allow yourself some room to experiment. If/when reading the voices out loud, try mimicking how you want them to sound. Does it sound believable? Draw inspiration from movies and actors/actresses you admire. When writing a script, make the dialogue belong to the character and keep in mind that the actor/actresse's job is to bring the dialogue to life - and they will.
What you should do is ask yourself:
Would I say - "How are you doing today?" or "How's it going?"
Would it go - "Wow, that is amazing news, Clive, I am so excited for you!" or "Wow, that's amazing news, Clive! I'm so excited for you!"
If you write a line of dialogue, or a thought, always remind yourself of who the character is, his wants, quirks, personal traits, and ask yourself if the words you've written fit with the character. This ties back strongly with both STORY and CHARACTER. Consider:
Sam had never been the most popular boy on the block, and he had never tried to be. He wore his baseball cap, not like the cool kids who would turn it around and sometimes inside out, but properly, so that it shaded his eyes. He never stood on the seat of his bike, trying to impress Marion or Lou-Anne or Samantha, hoping they might be glancing out a window at the moment he passed it, but sat neatly, holding on with both hands, gazing forward. He walked to school without taking the route past the Smoking Shack, where the older boys would sell the younger boys cigarettes which the older boys had knicked from their parents. Sam had no interest in cigarettes because he figured if the smell of them from afar made him nauseous, then he didn't want to know what sticking one in his mouth would make him feel.
On the first of September, 1965, Sam was about to turn fourteen. In three days he was going to have a birthday party to celebrate the event and for some reason, the only thing going through his mind was the thought of bright pink and yellow balloons. He felt a compulsion, as though he had to have bright pink and yellow baloons at the party or he knew it would be a spectacular failure.
Now, the thought of balloons might be enough to make you - the reader - want to know exactly why this compulsion occurred and why it occurred at this particular point in time. There are a hundred, if not a thousand, if not a million, ways to twist and spin the thought of balloons into meaning something else, or turning out to launching him into a desperate hunt for balloons, or the colors being significant, or the shape, or that float-y thing they do. But what if we spiced that last paragraph up a bit?
On the first of September, 1965, Sam was about to turn fourteen. In three days he was going to have a birthday party to celebrate the event and for some reason the only thing going through his mind was the thought of Sinful Cin, the arts teacher.
He thought the nickname a cruel joke, as she couldn't help the way her graceful movements seemed to speak of sex to those watching. (At least when those watching were thirteen year old boys.) It had been a group of them, one grade above him, who had thought of the name, and it had stuck like jam on toast. She seemed oblivious to it and to the sniggers that sometimes errupted when someone whispered it under their breath in class, or perhaps she was merely pretending.
Now Sam felt a deep need, more like a compulsion, to invite her to his birthday party. He felt as though she had to come, or it would simply be a spectacular failure.
Is the intrigue heightened? I would, personally, say it is, simply because physical attraction teamed with adolescent longing, especially the slumbering kind that is now threatening to bite its way out and roar its existence to the world, is always a compelling read.
The thought, then - does it seem to fit the character? I establish Sam as a very controlled and precoucious child who always does the right thing and sees no interest in partaking in the wild games of his peers. So, what if now, his desire for his arts teacher drives him to go against his own character and do things he never thought he could possibly do? There are many ways to play around with this, but as I stated in Chapter Two - CHARACTER, you want the character taken on a journey of self discovery. This means pitting him against what he thought he knew about himself, yes? Of course, you could do this with the balloon scenario as well, depending on where you choose to take it. (See Chapter One - STORY.)
End Note
The very basics of dialogue should be, then, to always consider the character that is speaking, remembering that it isn't your voice that is meant to be heard, but the voice of that particular person whom you're depicting in your story. Does he speak gruffly, does he swear, or is it a soft-spoken Southern bell with a sing-song-y tone in her voice? It all matters in adding to the character and to the multi-color of the story you're writing.
It is, as with most things, a matter of taste, too: how you choose to build your story and the characters within it.
In "Crime and Punishment", Dostoevsky writes page after page after page of descriptive dialogue, and it works. Why? Because the character is a drunkard who is rambling on and on as drunkards usually do, and because we are being told an interesting story by this character. So, the dialogue fits the character and the intrigue is kept piqued as we listen to what the character has to tell us.
The leading character of "Crime and Punishment" is Raskolnikov, a young student who, for the first 100 pages or so is contemplating doing something so horrid he doesn't even dare mention what it is. This contemplation is almost erratic in its urgency, and in Raskolnikov's rejection of the mere idea of doing something so awful, but these thoughts and how they are written are compelling because we don't know exactly what it is he's planning to do (though we have a distinct notion of what it must be, due to the title of the work itself), and also because his thoughts help establish his character and they fit seamlessly with the mood Dostoevsky is setting.
This ties in with the foreshadowing and pacing I mentioned in Chapter One - STORY. By establishing Raskolnikov's character and the stakes for this character - he is likable, poor, not prone to violence, and wishing to do this horrible deed for the sake of, not himself, but those he loves - Dostoevsky creates a main character that grabs hold of the reader. We feel for Raskolnikov, we see his character clearly, his quirks, his conundrums, we worry what might happen if he goes through with it, if he's caught - again, the title rather gives it away - but we're still there, because we don't know HOW. Foreshadowing, people. The promise of good stuff up ahead. (And, in some cases, perhaps not so good.)
So don't go ruining the read with dialogue that doesn't tell the reader anything, but only feels like filler, like meaningless banter or chatter until we get to the kernel of the conflict. When your characters speak, they should speak because that dialogue is pivotal for the plot evolvement or for showing the depth of the character or - preferably - both.
Clichés can work, but make them work for you. The villain who - inexplicably - decides to relay the entire scheme to the trapped hero just before the end of the film. The chase and race for love at the end of every single romcom. The side-kick joker with all the snappy one-liners. Little things that might be expected by a wide audience, but which you can have fun with and make original. Not an easy task, but an oh, so fun one.
Summary
¤ Dialogue is difficult, but if you know your characters, you shouldn't have too much trouble hearing their voices in your head. (Careful, though, you might also be going insane. Whole other chapter.)
¤ Don't rely - at least not heavily - on dialogue to do the telling for you. Don't make characters ramble on about something which has happened in the past and which will soon play a big part of your plot, i.e. :
"Isn't that the old creepy mansion where a bunch of kids were trapped and killed off one by one?"
It all depends on the context, but I would say that in pretty much 98% of the cases, this line of dialogue would be better as a show - and by that, I mean a line of action in a script, or a paragraph or prologue of nice description in a story.
There was once a town in the middle of nowhere and on a softly bulging hill just outside the town stood a large house, practically a mansion, with high French windows, wide balconies and lovely, tiled roofs. It was the awe of everyone in the town when it was first built, but as the years passed, the shadow falling from its high towers and flying banners seemed to stretch further and further until it fell upon the town itself.
And so forth.
¤ Listen to your own instincts and allow yourself some room to experiment. If/when reading the voices out loud, try mimicking how you want them to sound. Draw inspiration from movies and actors/actresses you admire. When writing a script, make the dialogue belong to a character and keep in mind that the actor/actress's job is to bring the dialogue to life - and they will.
¤ The very basics of dialogue are - don't overuse, better to show than tell, and allow your characters to have their own voice.
And remember, it all comes down to personal taste, how you wish to structure your story, and how you want it told.
Reading Material
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky (character driven and well-structured)
Harry Potter Series by JK Rowling (every character has their own voice)
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (nothing is left to chance and is sewn together beautifully)
When Harry met Sally script by Nora Ephron (incredible dialogue)
Breakfast at Tiffany's script by George Axelrod (amazing characters and dialogue)
Anything by William Shakespeare (well, obviously)
Viewing Material (fantastic characters and wonderful dialogue):
Misery
American Psycho
All About Eve
Original Sin
Ask the Dust
The Lives of Others
The Sea Inside
Boys and Girls
The Exorcism of Emily Rose
Angel Eyes
I have read numerous scripts on urbis.com, and they all have - in my humble opinion - the same problem, which is that they hold the characters' breath instead of allowing them to breathe life into the story: dialogue heavy with description and character revalations, and/or dialogue which is flat and uninteresting and does nothing for the plot whatsoever. Both of these need to be slaughtered so that your baby might live. Live, I tell you, live!
Dialogue is difficult. Repeat after me - dialogue is difficult. But it doesn't have to be impossible. Where do you draw inspiration for the dialogue of your characters? Well, obviously from real life, but ask yourself where your characters came from? If they came from real life already, and they're shaped in your head with a visual of what they look like, how they move, what their history is and where they wish to go - then shouldn't all this help in deciding what kind of voice to give them? And if you've striven, as we all do, to give each and every character in your story their very own set of quirks and tics - humanistics,as I like to call them - then shouldn't each voice become individual on their own?
I have written screenplays for going on five years now, and I've been writing stories my whole life (well, the twenty-five years that I have lived of it) and I feel that it isn't until now that all these things are finally beginning to come together for me. I'm beginning to recognize the little things that make up the bigger things, so I totally understand the difficult part of the dialogue-character-plot=story equation, but if you get yourself thinking of the little things, the bigger things are sure to fall into place.
The Little Things
Let me begin by giving you an example of heavy exposition/overuse of dialogue.
"Hi."
"Hello."
"Where've you been?"
"At the market."
"At the market?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Why did you go to the market at eight-thirty in the morning?"
"We were out of bread."
"Did you get some?"
"Yes."
"That's good. What kind of bread did you get?"
"That nutty one you like."
"Thanks. Is that what's in the basket?"
"Yeah."
"Should I carve it, then?"
"Why not."
"Would you like a slice?"
"Sure."
"With butter?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Okay. I'll bring it over in a second."
This is flat, uninteresting dialogue about trifles. It has no push and pull, no conflict whatsoever. Now, if you're writing a drama, sometimes it's necessary to have an everyday type of conversation, but let's see if we can't make this one a bit more interesting:
"Where've you been?"
"The market."
"The market? You left without telling me, you know I hate waking up alone."
"Sorry, babe. Wanted to get some bread for breakfast. Got that nutty kind you like."
"You're the nutter. Give it here, then. I'll carve it. Go have a seat."
"Heavy on the butter now."
"You'll clog your arteries with that stuff."
"Yes, dear."
And how would it look if we add some description to it?
Daniel climbed the steps taking him to the back door, halting in the doorway at the sight of Imogen, whose hair was tangled from sleep and who was wearing nothing but his oversized shirt. He was about to smile at her when he registered the look on her face - it wasn't happy.
"Where've you been?" she asked, rather snappishly.
"The market," he replied lightly, holding up the basket in his hand as some sort of proof.
The pout on her mouth reduced itself to about a quarter of its previous protrution, but since it didn't go away completely, he quickly deduced that he wasn't out of the woods yet.
"The market?" she repeated, and he thought he could detect a huff somewhere behind the two words, as though she found the idea perpostreous and was determined to wrench the truth out of him. "You left without telling me," she then added, the pout threatening to return to its former proclamation of her malcontent, but something not far from insecurity seemed to hold it back. "You know I hate waking up alone," she finished, and he did pick up on the small accusation in that sentence, making him approach her with as innocent an expression as he had ever worn.
"Sorry, babe," he apologized, wanting to keep the breezy tone so that he could settle the mood threatening to take over the peace of their first morning together. "Wanted to get some bread for breakfast. Got that nutty kind you like," he tried, seeing the clouds in her gaze scatter as he placed the basket on the counter.
"You're the nutter," she murmured, though he could tell she was appeased. "Give it here, then," she added as he proceeded with bringing the bread out of its current residence, not waiting for him to hand it over as she simply took it out of his grasp, waving at him as she said: "I'll carve it. Go have a seat."
He smirked, not taking his eyes off her as he rounded the kitchen table and sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs she insisted were keep-sakes she couldn't do away with, leaning back as he watched her bring out a bread knife and begin to slice the bread, evenly, thickly.
Once she was done she seemed apt to serve them as they were and he put his hands behind his head as he instructed:
"Heavy on the butter, now."
She sighed. He loved it when she cared.
"You'll clog your arteries with that stuff," she grumbled and his smirk was re-born.
"Yes, dear," he replied, receiving a not-so-amused glare from her as she headed to the coolling box to bring out the treasured flavor-booster.
It cost ten broonies for just one ounce of the stuff, but it was worth it; and, at least, he could afford it.
Bit more character? Bit more interesting to follow the converstion when something else is happening besides them chatting, standing face to face on the floor, or seated at a table? Yes?
If this was a scene in a script, could we do it without any dialogue at all?
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
It's small, lived-in and with a comfortable disarray of kitchen-y things on the counters.
IMOGEN (20) wanders back and forth between counter and kitchen table. She is in obvious dismay.
A car door slams.
She stops, facing the kitchen door.
DANIEL (22) is seen through the door's net. He enters the room and halts once he notices Imogen.
Her dismay is now palpable. He sees it.
She is about to say something. He stops her by moving up to her, pulling a parcel out of the basket. He hands it to her with a meaningful - almost reproachful - look, before leaving the room.
She hesitates, but unwraps it.
It's a piece of bread.
She's somewhat regretful for the accusing stare she delivered. She doesn't go after him. Instead she heads to the counter, putting the bread down. She gets out a very large carving knife and begins to slice the bread.
END SCENE.
It's interesting to do a scene with no dialogue, I think. To push yourself into thinking more of body language, of how the actor or actress can deliver the mood, tell the reader with actions rather than words what is going on in his or her mind. It's such powerful stuff and it can be wonderful to watch.
And seriously, who ever talks like the people in Dialogue 1? Nobody is that stiff. Well, unless it's part of their character, but then that's the voice of that one character, not every character of the whole piece.
Listen to your own instincts, and allow yourself some room to experiment. If/when reading the voices out loud, try mimicking how you want them to sound. Does it sound believable? Draw inspiration from movies and actors/actresses you admire. When writing a script, make the dialogue belong to the character and keep in mind that the actor/actresse's job is to bring the dialogue to life - and they will.
What you should do is ask yourself:
Would I say - "How are you doing today?" or "How's it going?"
Would it go - "Wow, that is amazing news, Clive, I am so excited for you!" or "Wow, that's amazing news, Clive! I'm so excited for you!"
If you write a line of dialogue, or a thought, always remind yourself of who the character is, his wants, quirks, personal traits, and ask yourself if the words you've written fit with the character. This ties back strongly with both STORY and CHARACTER. Consider:
Sam had never been the most popular boy on the block, and he had never tried to be. He wore his baseball cap, not like the cool kids who would turn it around and sometimes inside out, but properly, so that it shaded his eyes. He never stood on the seat of his bike, trying to impress Marion or Lou-Anne or Samantha, hoping they might be glancing out a window at the moment he passed it, but sat neatly, holding on with both hands, gazing forward. He walked to school without taking the route past the Smoking Shack, where the older boys would sell the younger boys cigarettes which the older boys had knicked from their parents. Sam had no interest in cigarettes because he figured if the smell of them from afar made him nauseous, then he didn't want to know what sticking one in his mouth would make him feel.
On the first of September, 1965, Sam was about to turn fourteen. In three days he was going to have a birthday party to celebrate the event and for some reason, the only thing going through his mind was the thought of bright pink and yellow balloons. He felt a compulsion, as though he had to have bright pink and yellow baloons at the party or he knew it would be a spectacular failure.
Now, the thought of balloons might be enough to make you - the reader - want to know exactly why this compulsion occurred and why it occurred at this particular point in time. There are a hundred, if not a thousand, if not a million, ways to twist and spin the thought of balloons into meaning something else, or turning out to launching him into a desperate hunt for balloons, or the colors being significant, or the shape, or that float-y thing they do. But what if we spiced that last paragraph up a bit?
On the first of September, 1965, Sam was about to turn fourteen. In three days he was going to have a birthday party to celebrate the event and for some reason the only thing going through his mind was the thought of Sinful Cin, the arts teacher.
He thought the nickname a cruel joke, as she couldn't help the way her graceful movements seemed to speak of sex to those watching. (At least when those watching were thirteen year old boys.) It had been a group of them, one grade above him, who had thought of the name, and it had stuck like jam on toast. She seemed oblivious to it and to the sniggers that sometimes errupted when someone whispered it under their breath in class, or perhaps she was merely pretending.
Now Sam felt a deep need, more like a compulsion, to invite her to his birthday party. He felt as though she had to come, or it would simply be a spectacular failure.
Is the intrigue heightened? I would, personally, say it is, simply because physical attraction teamed with adolescent longing, especially the slumbering kind that is now threatening to bite its way out and roar its existence to the world, is always a compelling read.
The thought, then - does it seem to fit the character? I establish Sam as a very controlled and precoucious child who always does the right thing and sees no interest in partaking in the wild games of his peers. So, what if now, his desire for his arts teacher drives him to go against his own character and do things he never thought he could possibly do? There are many ways to play around with this, but as I stated in Chapter Two - CHARACTER, you want the character taken on a journey of self discovery. This means pitting him against what he thought he knew about himself, yes? Of course, you could do this with the balloon scenario as well, depending on where you choose to take it. (See Chapter One - STORY.)
End Note
The very basics of dialogue should be, then, to always consider the character that is speaking, remembering that it isn't your voice that is meant to be heard, but the voice of that particular person whom you're depicting in your story. Does he speak gruffly, does he swear, or is it a soft-spoken Southern bell with a sing-song-y tone in her voice? It all matters in adding to the character and to the multi-color of the story you're writing.
It is, as with most things, a matter of taste, too: how you choose to build your story and the characters within it.
In "Crime and Punishment", Dostoevsky writes page after page after page of descriptive dialogue, and it works. Why? Because the character is a drunkard who is rambling on and on as drunkards usually do, and because we are being told an interesting story by this character. So, the dialogue fits the character and the intrigue is kept piqued as we listen to what the character has to tell us.
The leading character of "Crime and Punishment" is Raskolnikov, a young student who, for the first 100 pages or so is contemplating doing something so horrid he doesn't even dare mention what it is. This contemplation is almost erratic in its urgency, and in Raskolnikov's rejection of the mere idea of doing something so awful, but these thoughts and how they are written are compelling because we don't know exactly what it is he's planning to do (though we have a distinct notion of what it must be, due to the title of the work itself), and also because his thoughts help establish his character and they fit seamlessly with the mood Dostoevsky is setting.
This ties in with the foreshadowing and pacing I mentioned in Chapter One - STORY. By establishing Raskolnikov's character and the stakes for this character - he is likable, poor, not prone to violence, and wishing to do this horrible deed for the sake of, not himself, but those he loves - Dostoevsky creates a main character that grabs hold of the reader. We feel for Raskolnikov, we see his character clearly, his quirks, his conundrums, we worry what might happen if he goes through with it, if he's caught - again, the title rather gives it away - but we're still there, because we don't know HOW. Foreshadowing, people. The promise of good stuff up ahead. (And, in some cases, perhaps not so good.)
So don't go ruining the read with dialogue that doesn't tell the reader anything, but only feels like filler, like meaningless banter or chatter until we get to the kernel of the conflict. When your characters speak, they should speak because that dialogue is pivotal for the plot evolvement or for showing the depth of the character or - preferably - both.
Clichés can work, but make them work for you. The villain who - inexplicably - decides to relay the entire scheme to the trapped hero just before the end of the film. The chase and race for love at the end of every single romcom. The side-kick joker with all the snappy one-liners. Little things that might be expected by a wide audience, but which you can have fun with and make original. Not an easy task, but an oh, so fun one.
Summary
¤ Dialogue is difficult, but if you know your characters, you shouldn't have too much trouble hearing their voices in your head. (Careful, though, you might also be going insane. Whole other chapter.)
¤ Don't rely - at least not heavily - on dialogue to do the telling for you. Don't make characters ramble on about something which has happened in the past and which will soon play a big part of your plot, i.e. :
"Isn't that the old creepy mansion where a bunch of kids were trapped and killed off one by one?"
It all depends on the context, but I would say that in pretty much 98% of the cases, this line of dialogue would be better as a show - and by that, I mean a line of action in a script, or a paragraph or prologue of nice description in a story.
There was once a town in the middle of nowhere and on a softly bulging hill just outside the town stood a large house, practically a mansion, with high French windows, wide balconies and lovely, tiled roofs. It was the awe of everyone in the town when it was first built, but as the years passed, the shadow falling from its high towers and flying banners seemed to stretch further and further until it fell upon the town itself.
And so forth.
¤ Listen to your own instincts and allow yourself some room to experiment. If/when reading the voices out loud, try mimicking how you want them to sound. Draw inspiration from movies and actors/actresses you admire. When writing a script, make the dialogue belong to a character and keep in mind that the actor/actress's job is to bring the dialogue to life - and they will.
¤ The very basics of dialogue are - don't overuse, better to show than tell, and allow your characters to have their own voice.
And remember, it all comes down to personal taste, how you wish to structure your story, and how you want it told.
Reading Material
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky (character driven and well-structured)
Harry Potter Series by JK Rowling (every character has their own voice)
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (nothing is left to chance and is sewn together beautifully)
When Harry met Sally script by Nora Ephron (incredible dialogue)
Breakfast at Tiffany's script by George Axelrod (amazing characters and dialogue)
Anything by William Shakespeare (well, obviously)
Viewing Material (fantastic characters and wonderful dialogue):
Misery
American Psycho
All About Eve
Original Sin
Ask the Dust
The Lives of Others
The Sea Inside
Boys and Girls
The Exorcism of Emily Rose
Angel Eyes
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