If I had to nominate my weakest point in writing, dialogue would shove everything else out of the way to top the list. Pacing would be up there, fighting it out, but there’s no question dialogue would win.
It’s often been pointed out to me how little dialogue there is in Between the Lines, and it’s never bothered me that much, because what I have is an entire family full of men of few words. They’re the “communicate with grunts” types. It just happens that Bill has a lot going on in his head even as he’s not saying much. If he wasn’t thinking and he wasn’t talking, then I’d have about a ten-page novel, I reckon. So thinking is fine. Thinking is great- I’m writing in third person limited point of view, and most people agree they feel right inside Bill’s head when they’re reading.
The only problem is, everyone around Bill- not just his family, but everyone in the world- is also pretty quiet. And that’s just not right.
Which leads me to realise I have a total aversion to dialogue, full stop. Everything I write comes out sounding silly or pointless or wrong. This is extremely ironic for someone who started writing with screenplays, I might point out. Anyway- I’m going to my first ever writing class tomorrow, and it’s on dialogue. I’m super excited about the prospect of learning new techniques and figuring my way through the land of the spoken word. But! First I have to find a piece of writing to take with me for the class.
Gulp.
You know what? This allergy to dialogue is serious. Because I can barely find three scenes in the entire 120000 word first draft with more than a few lines of dialogue. I’m not kidding when I say the “” buttons are the least used on my keyboard. I’m not going to worry about that, though. I’m going to take along something I hate and I’m going to use the opportunity to turn it into something I love. I’m not going to worry that everyone else in the class will think I suck if I present something terrible- I’m going to focus on them all being ragingly jealous of my brilliant literary talent once I fix the thing up. Yes indeed.
Isn't it interesting how much harder it is to present your writing for critique in person than it is to present it via the separation of the computer? I must have some little subliminal vision of people actually pelting tomatoes at me, or the like. Above all else I do NOT want to read my own work out loud in public- gaaaargghh. But I guess I'll deal with that if and when I get to it.
So. I’m taking one of three scenes- Bill and his best mate Tom talk fruit cake and death at Gallipoli before going over the top; Bill and his dad Jim talk love, family and war before Bill signs up in 1914; or Bill and Tom vs evil Lionel and his mates on cowardice, patriotism and fighting for King and country when war breaks out in 1914. Whichever I choose, I’ll post the original scene (or part thereof) and the new improved version with some tips from the workshop after the second session concludes in a fortnight.
I guess it’s a bit like speech therapy for Bill- LOL. Wish us luck :)
Excerpt from Between the Lines
A memory wavered into his mind, shimmery as heat rising off the road in summer.
He was six years old, and he’d been in Stonehaven no more than a week. He was hollow and lonely, confused. He missed the bustle of Melbourne. He missed the other kids on his street, the whole gang of them and their scampy games. He was stuck out in the bush, all of a sudden, with nobody but Lionel for company. Lionel had spent the first day ignoring him completely, and the last few beating the stuffing out of him whenever he got the chance. So that day, he’d wandered out to the back garden, if it could even be called that- just a scrubbed, flat expanse of hot red dirt with a veil of tangled trees and shrubs behind it.
The bush.
On impulse, he’d taken a couple of steps toward it, bare feet burning on the hot ground. The air was filled with the lemony scent of eucalyptus and the fresh tang of the distant sea. He'd filled his lungs and the two steps had turned into six, then ten, then before he knew it he was running headlong toward the wall of whispering green and brown, pushing all his mother’s warnings about snakes and savages from his head. He barrelled between the first spicy-scented leaves and, to his surprise, popped out on a sort of beaten down track, hidden from view of the house. After a moment’s pause to wonder how many strokes of the belt he’d get for this, he set off down the track toward the most interesting noise he’d heard so far- the babbling giggle of flowing water, and laced in with it, the high, clear notes of a girl’s voice, singing.
He stepped off the track with his heart hammering in his chest, suddenly terrified as he caught side of the wide river bank and the rolling mass of glassy green water.
She was standing there, all right- a girl not much taller than him, skinny as a rake, skin the golden brown of tree bark lit by sun. A cascade of golden curls rolled over her shoulders to skim at her waist, tendrils flicking out here and there as she drew back her arm and lobbed a big rock into the water.
He watched it go, traced the arc with his eyes until it hit the water with a loud splash and was swallowed. She was singing, still, her voice high and clear. She was wearing a white dress that finished at her knees and puffed into short sleeves at her shoulders. He looked down at himself, his grey shorts and jumper coated in jam, dirt and everything else he’d been busy with that morning. He stared at her back with suspicion. She was pristine. The only dirty bit of her was her feet, bare as his.
If it hadn’t been for those feet, he might have thought she was an angel. Or a ghost.
Friday, September 12, 2008
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6 comments:
Have you considered self publishing your blog as a book? Or maybe you have that finished manuscript gathering dust on your desk?
I found what I think is a new website, WorldWide Alliance of Writers, www.wwaow.com. What you get is 5 printed copies of your book and a listing on their ecommerce web site for $80. Not much is on there yet but nothing like being an early adopter...
Hiya!
"Everything I write comes out sounding silly or pointless or wrong."
That's exactly how I've always felt! I'm really interested to know what you take away from the workshop. Good luck reading your stuff out loud - I can't stand doing it, but I don't think *you* have anything to worry about - if anyone criticizes that fruitcake scene they'll have me to answer to!
I'll be curious as to what you learn, because dialog is my #1 weakness.
I "write" great dialog in my head in the morning when I am still in bed and not quite awake. But something awful happens between then and the time I get to the computer! HAHA.
I started a thread asking about dialog on the Forum about a year ago, I think. It's under R&C. Did get some great advice. I'm going to see if I can find it again...
Stephanie
Ah! Found the thread, with advice from all the wonders of the Forum, including Diana and Jo:
[Msg # 58702.1 ]
January 27, 2008.
I'm glad you brought dialog up again--going back now to review that thread!
Stephanie
Hey Claire,
Looking forward to hearing how you go with this - keep us posted! *s*
I have the opposite problem to you - I'm fine with dialogue, I _love_ dialogue, it's other bits (description especially) that I struggle with. I actually have some scenes where all I've written is the dialogue, and I'm going to have to go back and fill in some details. Like location, actions of characters...you know, all those details that turn a scene from being "two stick figures talking" into a _scene_ *laughs*
And GOOD LUCK! *s*
"But something awful happens between then and the time I get to the computer!"
Me too! Sooo frustrating....
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