Talk, Talk, Talk

Dialogue is supposed to be hard-working. I always think of dialogue as having at least three functions: it should move the story along (minimally), it should (ideally) tell you something about the speaker, and it should (ideally) tell you something about the person being spoken to.

It has other functions as well, one of them being to break up too much exposition. But I find that I can often spot dialogue that has no other purpose than this, and it annoys me. You’ll recognize it too — you’re reading along, and it’s expos expos expos and suddenly someone asks someone else if they want a cup of coffee, and the someone else says yes or no, whichever, and then it’s expos expos expos again.

Did this move the story along? Probably not — unless the coffee is laced with arsenic. Did it tell you something about the speaker? Probably not — ok, technically, it tells you that the speaker is in possession of coffee and is willing to share. Big deal. A million Starbucks baristas have the same quality. Did it tell you anything of significance about the “speakee”? Again, probably not. It merely broke up the exposition. Instead of dealing with the too-much-exposition problem, the writer inserts a quick-fix distraction that both detracts from the story (by wasting your time and not moving it along) and leaves the flawed writing there. It’s a lazy writer’s solution.

Now, you want some good dialogue? You want to read a master of dialogue, a guy who makes it all work? Go immediately to your nearest bookstore and lay your hands on and your money down for the “Dave Robicheaux” novels of James Lee Burke. The books are wonderful and the dialogue — well, it’s a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Pay special attention to Cletus — just about every sentence out of his mouth is technicolor characterization.

~ by seriouswriter on May 28, 2007.