One of the very first tips I posted on my website was about writing dialogue. I discussed writing distinct, realistic speech; and I gave two things to avoid: info dumps and accents spelled out. I stand by what I said back then, but I’ve added to my knowledge on the subject. That post focused on a character’s speech, and I’ve since done a post on giving characters distinct voices. Today, though, I want to focus on conversations—the exchange of words. Below are three tips to make your conversations believable and engaging.
In Late, Out Early
You’ve probably already heard this advice. It’s applied to where to start and stop a book, a scene, and dialogue. In Late, Out Early is the concept that you want to skip the boring parts and start and stop as close to the action as possible. What’s the point of the conversation? Start a line before that and stop once it’s done.
What does this mean in practical terms? It means don’t start a conversation between characters with salutations and small talk. Jump to where the conversation really starts to do some heavy lifting. Let’s look at an example.
“Welcome home,” Sicily said. “How was your day?”
“Exhausting,” Rorik said, stepping through the front door and wiping sweat off his forehead. “I spent all day on top of a metal roof in hundred-degree heat.”
“Yeah, I wish this heat wave would pass already. I think they said we have two more weeks of it, though. Good thing we’re going to Colorado next week.”
Rorik groaned. “I told you. I’m not going with you. I can’t sit through a week with your parents right now.”
“Please, Rorik. If you don’t come, they’ll pester me about our marriage falling apart.”
“Then don’t go.”
“You know I can’t miss family time.”
Rorik turned toward the front door. “Then I’ll better get you new tires before you leave. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Ok,” Sicily said with a sigh. “I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.”
“Maybe time it a little later. I’ll need a shower first.”
“Ok, I’ll make it for an hour and a half from now.”
“Sounds good,” Rorik said, stepping out the door. “See you in a bit.”
“Be safe.”
What is interesting about this conversation? The greeting? The weather? Discussing dinner time? No. The conflict: she is going to visit her parents, and he won’t go with her. That’s were readers perk up. Even though any real couple would discuss the rest, we don’t need it in the book to bore readers. Instead, write the exchange so it highlights the interesting part. Here’s an example of what we could do with this conversation.
Rorik stepped through the front door, wiping sweat off his forehead.
“Hot day, uh?” Sicily said. “Good thing we’re going to Colorado next week.”
Rorik groaned. “I told you. I’m not going. I can’t sit through a week with your parents right now.”
“Please, Rorik. If you don’t come, they’ll pester me about our marriage falling apart.”
“Then don’t go.” Rorik turned and stormed back out the front door.
Now we have a full conversation from start to end but centered around the interesting part. Is this a great piece of dialogue? Not yet, but it’s shorter and more engaging than the original.
Dialogue Ping-Pong
Good conversations are what some call Dialogue Ping-Pong: short, snappy sentences that switch back and forth between participants. It’s easy in a book to give a character a huge paragraph of dialogue, but it feels unrealistic. Unless someone asks you to recount something, it’s very hard in everyday life to talk for minutes on end without interruption. And if you do, the other person probably zoned out at some point. To avoid this with readers, we switch who is talking so the pacing feels quicker. Every big section of dialogue is one of two things: monologue or checklist.
Monologues
A monologue is a long, stream of consciousness speech that monopolizes a conversation. As a general rule, monologues don’t interest readers unless they are earned. That big reveal at the end where the detective describes how the crime was committed and solved, that’s earned. Readers spend the whole book trying to figure it out so they want the monologue at the end to explain it. Most of the time, though, monologues don’t work in everyday conversation. Let’s look at an altered version of our example above to illustrate it.
Rorik stepped through the front door, wiping sweat off his forehead.
“Hot day, uh?” Sicily said. “Good thing we’re going to Colorado next week.”
Rorik groaned. “I told you. I’m not going. I can’t sit through a week with your parents. All they do is tell me how construction is a lowly trade and I need to come work for them. My self-esteem can’t take it right now. The Carson job fell through today, the Borgs are demanding we redo their porch roof, and Andrew quit. If I get any more negativity dropped on me, I might just jump off a roof.”
“Please, Rorik. If you don’t come, they’ll pester me about our marriage falling apart. I’ll have to listen to more lectures on how marriage is hard and we need family support to make it work. They’ll say you’re prioritizing work over me, and then Dad will pull me aside and offer some divorce attorney fees. I just want them to see us together and happy because we are happy. But if I go without you, they’ll assume the worst.”
“Then don’t go.” Rorik turned and stormed back out the front door.
How does this conversation feel different to you? Did it feel more like a pity party? Because both characters have a monologue about their reasons, it just feels like they’re complaining. It’s not a real conversation. It’s two people venting their woes. Yes, there’s conflict, but it feels annoying and will bore readers in this format. Before we try to fix this, let’s look at the other type of long dialogue.
Checklists
If there is only one take away you have from this post, I hope it’s this: every turn of dialogue can only have one focus. As I’ve done more and more editing, I find too often writers like to make a checklist of things for their characters to say, and then they squish it all into one lump. What comes out feels stilted and forced. Let’s look at this in reality by altering our example once more.
“Welcome home,” Sicily said. “How was your day? It’s been pretty hot out there. Good thing we’re going to Colorado next week. You are coming, right? If you don’t, they’ll pester me about our marriage falling apart.”
“Exhausting,” Rorik said, stepping through the front door and wiping sweat off his forehead. “I spent all day on top of a metal roof. And no. I told you I’m not going with you to Colorado. I can’t sit through a week with your parents right now. But that reminds me, I need to get you new tires before you leave.”
How did that conversation feel to you? A bit clunky? It’s like the characters are writing letters to each other instead of talking because they don’t expect an immediate response. Sicily starts with a greeting, asks a question, comments on the weather and trip, and asks another question. Then Rorik starts down the checklist of things she’s said and makes his responses. He answers the first question, then answers the second, gives some excuses, then introduces his own topic. It’s unrealistic for how people talk. If Sicily was talking to me, I’d answer the last question and be done. In speech, we pause so the other person can address the current topic, and then we move on to the next.
Ping-Pong
Now that we’ve seen examples on blocky dialogue, let’s look at a good example of ping-pong dialogue.
Rorik stepped through the front door, wiping sweat off his forehead.
“Hot day, uh?” Sicily said. “Good thing we’re going to Colorado next week.”
Rorik groaned. “I told you. I’m not going.”
“Please, Rorik. I just want my parents to see how happy we are together.”
“I can’t sit through a week with them right now.”
“Why not?”
Rorik ran a hand through his damp hair. “We lost the Carson job, and Andrew quit.”
Sicily raised an eyebrow. “Can’t Davis handle business for the week?”
“Yes.” Rorik sighed. “But if I go, your parents will figure out business is slow and push for me to quit construction again.”
“But if you don’t come, they’ll pester me about our marriage falling apart.”
“Then don’t go.”
While this is still no award-wining dialogue, it’s much easier to read and feels more realistic. Every line is no more than two sentences, and they stay on topic. Sicily offers a greeting and brings up the trip. Rorik says he’s not going. She pleads with him, and he offers a vague excuse. Notice he doesn’t immediately reveal his feelings. Most people will not share the root of a problem after one question; it takes time to pull it from them. So, Sicily digs further and asks why. He sidesteps by saying something about work, like that explains it. She misunderstands his excuse, thinking he can’t get away from work. When she offers a solution, he finally gives her the real reason he isn’t going on the trip. This snappy dialogue centers on conflict, but now it’s time to make it feel deeper than surface level.
Conversation Depth
Creating depth in a conversation is all about subtext. Dialogue should never be just what it seems. Writers must create gaps and hint at tension and conflict below the surface. By doing this, we make readers participants in the conversation because they are trying to figure out what’s really going on.
There are a few practical ways to add subtext to conversations. First, don’t let your characters say what they mean. Let them talk around the topic. Second, let their words conflict with what they are really feeling. If we aren’t in the person’s POV, use body language like a wide grin paired with a twitch in the jaw. If we are in the person’s POV, then you can use interiority to counter whatever they are saying out loud.
Third, don’t let your characters state their feelings. When you’re mad at someone, you probably don’t tell them: “I’m mad at you.” Instead, people often speak passive aggressively or let their actions show their emotions. Fourth, let true emotions show through slipped words or half spoken sentences. Give a hint of what really lies below the surface. Fifth, create gaps in the conversation because sometimes those empty spaces can say more than words. Let the conversation pause, don’t let her answer the question, make him change the topic, or just respond with body language. The void speaks volumes. Let’s take these five ways to create depth and write a better conversation example.
Good Dialogue Example
Here is a revision of our example building off the first two tips and adding in our five ways to create subtext. While this conversation may need some more light edits, it’s now good enough to be in a book and hold readers’ interest.
Rorik stepped through the front door, wiping sweat off his forehead.
Sicily smiled, though her stomach was doing summersaults. “Bet you’ll be happy to be away from this heat and in Colorado next week.”
Rorik groaned.
Sicily ignored it, adding a little more cheer to her voice. “Should we take your car? Mine needs new tires.”
Rorik’s jaw clenched. “We lost the Carson job, and Andrew quit.”
Sicily forced her smile wider. “I’m sure Davis can handle the job sites for a week.”
“I’ll get you new tires before you leave.”
“Rorik, you have to come this time.”
“Why?” Rorik shouted, eyes flaring wide. “So your parents can belittle my job when I’m already struggling?”
Sicily matched this tone. “You’d rather me show up alone so Dad can offer divorce money again?”
Rorik stormed back out the front door.
This example thrives on not saying what they mean. Every utterance in the first half is speaking in code.
- Bet you’ll be happy. = You are coming, right?
- He groaned. = No, I’m not going.
- Should we take your car? = I’m pleading with you to come.
- I have work troubles. = I have reasons to stay.
- Davis can handle it. = Your reasons are false.
Then Sicily finally says something out right, “Rorik, you have to come this time.” After that, real emotions explode, and we get to see a hint of the truth below the surface: he feels inferior to her family, and they seem to think it’s a bad marriage.
On top of not saying what they mean, there is also conflicting words and feelings. She smiles and puts on a chipper tone, but we see in her interiority that it’s forced. Yet she doesn’t tell him outright how she feels and why. She talks around it. He also never shares his feelings. We see through his body language that he’s annoyed and upset, but (unlike the monologue example) he doesn’t tell her he’s so crushed right now that he can’t take her family chipping away at more of his self-esteem. Instead, when she pushes him, we see him fall over the edge of emotion for a moment to let some truth slip out: he doesn’t like how her parents treat him. His outburst pushes her to slip too, throwing out a surprising remark about divorce money and hinting how their marriage may be on the rocks.
Lastly, there are several uses of gaps in this conversation. Right off the bat, Sicily’s first comment is met with a gap: Rorik groans. He doesn’t say anything, but we get he isn’t happy. Then when she asks him a question, he responds with a topic change, mentioning his work. Lastly, he shuts her down by saying he’ll get her new tires. He doesn’t say: “I’m not going.” He just makes a statement so his intentions are obvious.
Final Thoughts
When writing advice is given about dialogue, most of the time it’s about what is said and not how two people engage in swapping those words. I hope this post shed some light on how to make realistic and engaging conversations. Cut to the good stuff, keep each participant’s turn to speak short, and make sure the conversation is doing something below the surface. If these three tips are applied, readers should have no problem getting caught up in what’s being said and sticking around to see what happens next.
Thanks for reading!
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