By Courtney Pierce
Dialogue.
After a quick setup, then dive me into the talkin’
and doin’. That’s what sucks me into a book.
They say that good books are 80% dialogue. Readers are
catapulted into the character’s head to reveal their personality, moral fiber, and
soul. I agree. Characters build a framework for a book’s premise through words
and how they say them. I bond. I’m glued. Yeah, you need a good story hook, but
what makes a story great is when the characters expose their flaws, fears, quirks,
and smarts. If there’s no connection with the peeps, then the book goes back to
the heap.
Sometimes a story sp
rkles with a simple “yes”, “no”, “maybe”, or an “I don’t know”. Whether said with an edge, a side glance, or accompanied by tears, these phrases create twists and turns to take a story in multiple directions. They’re the set-up for huge expectations, and the more surprised I am by the outcome the better.
rkles with a simple “yes”, “no”, “maybe”, or an “I don’t know”. Whether said with an edge, a side glance, or accompanied by tears, these phrases create twists and turns to take a story in multiple directions. They’re the set-up for huge expectations, and the more surprised I am by the outcome the better.
Here’s an example of how a scene can turn a story with dialogue.
The set-up is the sheriff responding to a rural Montana home because of a
threat from an animal. That’s all we know.
“You live alone, Ma’me?” The sheriff says after tense greetings
at the front door. He wasn’t expecting such a petite, attractive woman to be
standing there holding a powerful rifle nearly as big as her.
“That’s why I have this,” the woman says and pats the
barrel.
“A lot of fire power you’ve got there. Is it loaded?” He was
relieved to see the safety was firmly in place.
“Yep.”
The sheriff tips his head at the 6.5 mm creedmoor Tikka rifle.
“Can you bring yourself to pull the trigger on that?”
“Yes. But . . . “ The
woman’s glances at hardwoods.
The sheriff didn't step inside, but he studies her internal dialogue from the stoop. “Are you sure?”
In the adjacent woods, the agonizing scream of an injured
mountain lion defocuses their attention.
“Not completely.” The woman wrinkles her nose. “This baby's all
show.”
“Cat’s hurt pretty bad out there. What’s your name?”
“Hannah. What about yours?”
He adjusts his hat. “It’s Francis. But I prefer Frank.”
“I think Francis is perfectly fine,” Hannah says and
straightens, “and I’m glad you’ll have my back.” She checks the ammunition and
locks the magazine back into place.
“I think that rifle you’ve got there is perfectly fine, too.
I’ll teach you how to use it under different circumstances.”
“Your handgun’s not going to do the job, Frank.” Hannah holds
out the rifle.
Warmth radiated from the grip where Hannah had been holding
it. He met her gaze and lingered there for a few seconds. “C’mon. Let’s put that hurtin’ cat out of its
misery. I’ll show you how it’s done with yours.”
The scene ends.
It’s the first “Yes . . . but” in the dialogue that makes the
scene interesting. How did Hannah get that powerful gun she doesn’t know how to
use? Is the sheriff attracted to her, or is he only curious? After they deal
with the mountain lion, will the sheriff leave with no further contact? I think
that’s a big “no”. Will Hannah have to pull that trigger with deep emotional conflict later in the story. Most certainly “yes”.
There are millions of possible options in a story that can
stem from only one line of dialogue. But it’s impossible to connect with every
single reader with the direction it takes. “Love it or hate it” is a signal that someone is bringing their own loaded bags to the party.
Speaking of baggage . . .
What turns me off about a book is when the author’s thoughts
clearly eclipse the character’s. For me, this happens when a book turns too
politically opinionated or the dialogue sounds out of character. You know how
that goes; the story veers off course into subjects that take a reader out of
the rhythm. Dan Brown does that with diatribes about climate change, weapons
for population control, or ruffling religious doctrine. Readers dig in their
heels about those things. And they might suddenly hate the protagonist for
their stand on controversial subjects. But that’s okay. Other readers might cheer.

Another annoyance in a book is over-description. Show me the
room and set up the scene, but don’t wax on for multiple paragraphs about dust motes and
the fabric design on the couch. Get me into the character's head as fast as
possible. I want images of expressions, gestures, and what is in
their gut. How do the dying embers of the glowing log connect to a character
who’s staring into the fireplace? Is he/she contemplating a next move or an important
decision? I don’t care about the pattern of ash on the hearth unless it spells
out an epiphany of a clue.
Now…I’m anxious to get back to that emotional conflict with a gun. It’s time to write
the book I want to read.

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Coming Soon! Book 3 of the Dushane Sisters Trilogy |
courtney-pierce.com and windtreepress.com. Both print and E-books are
available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com

2 comments:
As always, a well-written post. It is definitely a balance between meaningful description and too much description. Dialog and too much dialog. Knowing were to cut the scene or do a jump-cut--popular in scriptwriting. I think you hit the nail on the head when you said the description needs to lead to the characters thoughts and feelings. I would say the same about dialog. Too much of the "Hi, how are you?" "Okay, I'm fine, what about you" dialog never does it. However a little body language with those same words tells a different story.
"Hi, how are you?" Susan asked as she checked her watch and tapped her foot.
Brenda grimaced and stared at Susan, as if willing her to pay attention for once. "I'm fine. And you?" She bit out each word.
I love your books, Courtney. This new Montana series really intrigues me.
Great post, Courtney! I agree with you totally on the talking and doing! That's what sucks me into the book.
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