Craft Notes
Talk Talk
Last night, I did a reading at Pilot Books. At Pilot’s request, I did an informal craft talk after the reaing. I chose to talk a little about how to approach writing dialogue. What follows are my introductory remarks.
Let’s talk about characters when they talk. Stories—mostly—have these things called characters, and more often than not, those characters come in sets, in twos, in threes, in groups and parties and piles. And so then there we are—we writerly types—with our groups and parties and piles and sets of characters, and we have these characters in these rooms we’ve made, these rooms we’ve furnished with all sorts of nice little objects for our characters to look at and consider and think about the history of and maybe to throw at one another—and what then? Why the throwing? What then for the characters there together?
Well, God. Sometimes these characters will have to go ahead and talk to one another. How? How should we—we writerly types—approach the characters talking to each other dilemma? How the heck do we write dialogue?
Okay, so today I’ll give you—you writerly types—a way to approach dialogue. And I’ll use a book that you may or may not have read, but very likely know, as a way to think about this approach to dialogue. And this book is a book where the two main characters never speak to one another. Where they can’t speak to each other because they don’t speak the same language. Where they can’t speak to each other because they aren’t even the same species. But this will work, anyway.
So, Hemingway wrote a book called The Old Man and the Sea. And in The Old Man and the Sea, an old man goes out to sea. And he fishes. And he hooks himself a big, big fish. And the, for quite a lot of the rest of the book, the man and the fish pull at one another. For pages and pages they pull at one another. He—the old man—pulls at the fish. And it—the fish in the sea—pulls at the old man. They pull and pull and they fight and fight.
This is dialogue. This is how to approach dialogue.
The old man spends much of the struggle between himself and the fish talking. He talks to the fish. He compliments the fish and he gets angry at the fish. He says things to the fish. But the fish doesn’t hear any of them. And the fish doesn’t respond to the things the old man says. This is not dialogue. This is the old man talking to himself. This is the old man revealing things about himself to the reader, and Hemingway hides this—this work of character building—by making it look like dialogue. But it’s not.
Between the old man and the fish is a line. The line is in the old man’s hands. A hook with the line is in the fish’s mouth. It’s the pulling that is the dialogue.
When people communicate, they do so to reveal to the listener their wants and needs. I want to get away, says the fish. I want to reel you in and devour you, says the old man. I am pulling to get away, says the fish. You are pulling me further out to sea, and I will give you some line to tire you out, says the old man. Characters communicate with each other like this.
And, significantly, the fish is deep within the water. And the old man can’t really see him. He can feel its pull. He can feel when the fish is tiring and he pulls softer. He can feel when the fish’s need to communicate its desire to escape is invigorated and he pulls harder. They talk through the line. But the old man only understands so much, because the deep and roiling water of the sea is there between himself and the fish.
When you write dialogue, you have to remember that between two characters there is the plane of the water and the depths of the ocean. Two people speaking the same language still communicate imperfectly. There is the surface of communication, and there is the subtext. There is the old man talking to himself, and the old man interpreting the desires of the fish. But when we talk to each other—we who understand each other—we are just as often talking to ourselves as the old man is. The real communication is often just the subtext. The real communication is the line in our hands. The line we pull at, and fight with. The line that leaves blisters on our hands and tears in our cheeks and lips—the consequences of our imperfect communication.
That’s what I have to say. Any questions?
***
There is a band in Seattle called Great Falls. They used to be called Hemingway. They rule:
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddq0C6p1nh0
Any questions about that?
I always thought the analogy and or the metaphor were any teacher’s best weapons. Much to think about here. Have you (or anyone else reading this) ever attempted to write a short story consisting of ONLY dialogue between two characters? It’s an exercise I’ve proposed at several workshops in the past, and which almost always yields pretty interesting results. If not a good bit of writing to stand on its own, then certainly a great scene to work well within a larger context.
And I agree about the subtext issue here — I think a lot of times writers work too hard to make dialogue fit together a bit too well, which to me is something very artificial feeling. If you really pay attention to conversations (it’s never a bad idea to secretly record a few and then play them back to analyze them), more often than not, one person isn’t as good a listener as the other. Or both people are talking about what’s in their heads, which may or may not sync up. Maybe this has to do with a writer being more familiar with the voice of a single character, and writing the story from that character’s POV. I have always found it a good idea to take a draft of a story entirely from the character’s POV whom I’ve identified with less — and then rewrite the entire story with them at the helm.
I always thought the analogy and or the metaphor were any teacher’s best weapons. Much to think about here. Have you (or anyone else reading this) ever attempted to write a short story consisting of ONLY dialogue between two characters? It’s an exercise I’ve proposed at several workshops in the past, and which almost always yields pretty interesting results. If not a good bit of writing to stand on its own, then certainly a great scene to work well within a larger context.
And I agree about the subtext issue here — I think a lot of times writers work too hard to make dialogue fit together a bit too well, which to me is something very artificial feeling. If you really pay attention to conversations (it’s never a bad idea to secretly record a few and then play them back to analyze them), more often than not, one person isn’t as good a listener as the other. Or both people are talking about what’s in their heads, which may or may not sync up. Maybe this has to do with a writer being more familiar with the voice of a single character, and writing the story from that character’s POV. I have always found it a good idea to take a draft of a story entirely from the character’s POV whom I’ve identified with less — and then rewrite the entire story with them at the helm.
I’ve written one story consisting only of dialog, What I found most interesting was how to explain the characters actions through the words of the other. Now that you bring it up I am going to do this again as I love the process and the resulting story – sadly that story was tossed into the trash after the diagnosis and no longer exists excepting for what is in memory.
Good post here, I feel the explanation.
I’ve written one story consisting only of dialog, What I found most interesting was how to explain the characters actions through the words of the other. Now that you bring it up I am going to do this again as I love the process and the resulting story – sadly that story was tossed into the trash after the diagnosis and no longer exists excepting for what is in memory.
Good post here, I feel the explanation.
I have a short piece called “College” that is entirely dialogue. I’m not sure how successful it is anymore, though. I may revisit it.
It’s difficult to remember to allow two characters to not understand one another. And favoring one character over another is often a culprit in this kind of a situation. I like that advice—a full draft where attention is paid to the character you identify with less. Thanks for mentioning that.
I have a short piece called “College” that is entirely dialogue. I’m not sure how successful it is anymore, though. I may revisit it.
It’s difficult to remember to allow two characters to not understand one another. And favoring one character over another is often a culprit in this kind of a situation. I like that advice—a full draft where attention is paid to the character you identify with less. Thanks for mentioning that.
Someone who heard these remarks mentioned “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men.” I’d like to look at those pieces again and think about the way the
Q:
interruptions work with the monologues.
Someone who heard these remarks mentioned “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men.” I’d like to look at those pieces again and think about the way the
Q:
interruptions work with the monologues.
I enjoyed this. Thank you for posting it.
I enjoyed this. Thank you for posting it.
When people communicate, they do so to reveal to the listener their wants and needs. I want to get away, says the fish. I want to reel you in and devour you, says the old man. I am pulling to get away, says the fish. You are pulling me further out to sea, and I will give you some line to tire you out, says the old man. Characters communicate with each other like this.
That paragraph nailed it for me.
When people communicate, they do so to reveal to the listener their wants and needs. I want to get away, says the fish. I want to reel you in and devour you, says the old man. I am pulling to get away, says the fish. You are pulling me further out to sea, and I will give you some line to tire you out, says the old man. Characters communicate with each other like this.
That paragraph nailed it for me.
What’s the difference between an informal talk and a talk?
What’s the difference between an informal talk and a talk?
I swore a lot.
I swore a lot.
Got it.
Got it.
I initially read this, “I swear a lot” and laughed at you.
I initially read this, “I swear a lot” and laughed at you.
Someone I think does in a particularly interesting way is playwright David Mamet. If you can get past the monotony of his themes and the famous Piazzola-esque “rhythm” of his language, the thing that jumps out next is how rarely his characters are talking with each other. Instead they are jockeying for control of the conversation, bullying one another, trying to claim or hang onto the role of teacher/mentor through soliloquies of BS authority.
The only characters in his plays who actually seem to listen to the characters around them are the con artists, and they do so not to enhance clear communication but to better miscommunicate, to grease the skids so that other characters will glide effortlessly to false conclusions and then confirm that they have done so.
Someone I think does in a particularly interesting way is playwright David Mamet. If you can get past the monotony of his themes and the famous Piazzola-esque “rhythm” of his language, the thing that jumps out next is how rarely his characters are talking with each other. Instead they are jockeying for control of the conversation, bullying one another, trying to claim or hang onto the role of teacher/mentor through soliloquies of BS authority.
The only characters in his plays who actually seem to listen to the characters around them are the con artists, and they do so not to enhance clear communication but to better miscommunicate, to grease the skids so that other characters will glide effortlessly to false conclusions and then confirm that they have done so.
Marguerite Duras. She used to be my guide for dialogue, straight dialogue, no deviations to show setting or action or expression or even he said she said, just dialogue. Deal with it. It’s all there. I used to really like her long stories and short novels. But when I tried this w/ my own work (b/c it felt right) every single reader of the draft w/out all the extra stuff could not handle it. And not b/c the dialogue didn’t work, necessarily. They just wanted to see what was going on, too. So what can you do when, let’s say, a majority (this is an extrapolation, but likely a fair one) of modern readers need far more than dialogue to hang w/ a story?
I love your breakdown of the fish and the old man, Matthew. But ya know, I wonder as well how much sensitivity readers bring to their reading these days, not just younger readers but older ones as well b/c everyone’s so info-overloaded from reading (i.e., skimming) text online and watching (youtube) and listening (to ipods) constantly… I wonder how superficial readers are today, even the relatively mature or serious ones. Used to be, I think, that readers enjoyed asking questions about a text to better understand meaning or to get deeper into a story or to savor the language. (Maybe I’m only speaking from personal preference/experience, I dunno.) Now I think many readers, though, want — or even need — such spoonfeeding that the subtler ways of storytelling may lost.
My attempt at a solution is to attempt to write on multiple levels, so you can read my stuff superficially and still get into it and “get it,” but if you dig and question and explore and spend some time making subtextual connects, you might find a lot more substance than what at first may appear otherwise. Not sure if I’m successful at this. Like I said, it’s an attempt. But this is my goal w/ dialogue and everything else. What d’ya think?
Marguerite Duras. She used to be my guide for dialogue, straight dialogue, no deviations to show setting or action or expression or even he said she said, just dialogue. Deal with it. It’s all there. I used to really like her long stories and short novels. But when I tried this w/ my own work (b/c it felt right) every single reader of the draft w/out all the extra stuff could not handle it. And not b/c the dialogue didn’t work, necessarily. They just wanted to see what was going on, too. So what can you do when, let’s say, a majority (this is an extrapolation, but likely a fair one) of modern readers need far more than dialogue to hang w/ a story?
I love your breakdown of the fish and the old man, Matthew. But ya know, I wonder as well how much sensitivity readers bring to their reading these days, not just younger readers but older ones as well b/c everyone’s so info-overloaded from reading (i.e., skimming) text online and watching (youtube) and listening (to ipods) constantly… I wonder how superficial readers are today, even the relatively mature or serious ones. Used to be, I think, that readers enjoyed asking questions about a text to better understand meaning or to get deeper into a story or to savor the language. (Maybe I’m only speaking from personal preference/experience, I dunno.) Now I think many readers, though, want — or even need — such spoonfeeding that the subtler ways of storytelling may lost.
My attempt at a solution is to attempt to write on multiple levels, so you can read my stuff superficially and still get into it and “get it,” but if you dig and question and explore and spend some time making subtextual connects, you might find a lot more substance than what at first may appear otherwise. Not sure if I’m successful at this. Like I said, it’s an attempt. But this is my goal w/ dialogue and everything else. What d’ya think?
[…] of writer’s advice that Seattle’s own Matthew Simmons gave last evening (as recorded on HTMLGIANT and found, along with a Biz Markie video clip, via Slog). Want to think about how to construct […]
For an entire oeuvre consisting of nothing but conversations, try Ivy Compton Burnett.
For the most interesting writer in Seattle, keep reading Matthew Simmons.
For an entire oeuvre consisting of nothing but conversations, try Ivy Compton Burnett.
For the most interesting writer in Seattle, keep reading Matthew Simmons.
brilliant post
Dialogue also works best when one of the speakers has power over the other
brilliant post
Dialogue also works best when one of the speakers has power over the other
This is an interesting post. Essentially what you’re saying, I think, is that Hemingway is using a form of action as “misdirected” dialogue. The characters are not so much having an exchange of conversation as carrying on two difference discussions simultaneously. Interesting.
This is an interesting post. Essentially what you’re saying, I think, is that Hemingway is using a form of action as “misdirected” dialogue. The characters are not so much having an exchange of conversation as carrying on two difference discussions simultaneously. Interesting.
One thing economists study is “asymmetry of information.” It also is a powerful weapon for a writer — when one of your dialoguers knows something the other doesn’t, and further whether the reader is a party to this asymmetric knowledge, or only becomes one later. It lets you write dialogue at two levels and gives the reader the pleasure of thinking he or she’s clever, to know something a character doesn’t. It never hurts to make your readers feel clever.
One thing economists study is “asymmetry of information.” It also is a powerful weapon for a writer — when one of your dialoguers knows something the other doesn’t, and further whether the reader is a party to this asymmetric knowledge, or only becomes one later. It lets you write dialogue at two levels and gives the reader the pleasure of thinking he or she’s clever, to know something a character doesn’t. It never hurts to make your readers feel clever.
Elmore Leonard is the master of dialogue, and in his “Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing,” he has a brilliant one: “Leave out the parts readers tend to skip.”
Elmore Leonard is the master of dialogue, and in his “Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing,” he has a brilliant one: “Leave out the parts readers tend to skip.”
Great post because it teaches an abstract point using a tale, a famous one at that.
I’ll be crediting you for fair use of your little story in my revision of You Can Write a Novel, due out from Writer’s Digest later this year.
Unless you protest, threaten and show up at my door with a grappling hook.
Jim
Great post because it teaches an abstract point using a tale, a famous one at that.
I’ll be crediting you for fair use of your little story in my revision of You Can Write a Novel, due out from Writer’s Digest later this year.
Unless you protest, threaten and show up at my door with a grappling hook.
Jim
you definitely should look at those, Matthew. i re-read that story a few weeks ago and thought of it when reading Matty Byloos’ comments.
In far too many stories, the dialogue is far too plentiful and the equivalent of blah blah blah hey how are you what’s going on you shouldn’t have been mean to me last night hey what’s going on buddy i want to be in love with you: dialogue that is on the nose and fully expected and wasteful and boring. It always makes me think of Jerry and George writing the fake “Seinfeld” script and agonizing over whether to have the character respond with “hey” or “how you doing” upon entering the room.
The only time a line like “pass the salt” is a good idea is if it in response to hearing something dramatic like “Mom is dead upstairs.”
you definitely should look at those, Matthew. i re-read that story a few weeks ago and thought of it when reading Matty Byloos’ comments.
In far too many stories, the dialogue is far too plentiful and the equivalent of blah blah blah hey how are you what’s going on you shouldn’t have been mean to me last night hey what’s going on buddy i want to be in love with you: dialogue that is on the nose and fully expected and wasteful and boring. It always makes me think of Jerry and George writing the fake “Seinfeld” script and agonizing over whether to have the character respond with “hey” or “how you doing” upon entering the room.
The only time a line like “pass the salt” is a good idea is if it in response to hearing something dramatic like “Mom is dead upstairs.”
[…] week, one of my former bosses sent me a link to a great article about writing dialog. In this article on craft, Matthew Simmons compares writing dialog to Hemingway’s The Old […]