The Book of Dialogue

How to Write Effective Conversation in Fiction, Screenplays, Drama, and Poetry

Lewis Turco

• Éditeur: University of New Mexico Press
• Année: 2020
• ISBN:
  9780826361912
• Sujet: Languages & Linguistics
• Sous-sujet: Creative Writing

The Book of Dialogue is an invaluable resource for writers and students of narrative seeking to master the art of effective dialogue. The book will teach you how to use dialogue to lay the groundwork for events in a story, to balance dialogue with other story elements, to dramatize events through dialogue, and to strategically break up dialogue with other vital elements of your story in order to capture and hold a reader's or viewer's interest in the overall arc of the narrative. Writers will find Turco's classic an essential reference for crafting dialogue. Using dialogue to teach dialogue, Turco's chapters focus on narration, diction, speech, and genre dialogue. Through the Socratic dialogue method—invented by Plato in his dialogues outlining the teachings of Socrates—Turco provides an effective tool to teach effective discourse. He notes, "Plato wrote lies in order to tell the truth. That's what a fiction writer does and has always done." Now it's your turn.

CHAPTER ONE

Definitions

Dialogue

Just exactly what is dialogue?

You’re writing this book. Why don’t you tell me?

I beg your pardon?

Why, what did you do?

Who are you?—if you don’t mind my asking.

Well, since you’re the author of this book, I guess I must be a character you’ve invented. Either that, or I’m a would-be writer who’s been hanging around waiting for you to say something interesting.

What’s your name?

I must have amnesia, because I don’t think I have one. Why don’t you give me one?

I’ll think about it.

While you’re doing that, can I ask you a question?

Sure. Go ahead.

Okay—what’s dialogue?

Dialogue is a conversation.

Like what we’re having right now?

Exactly.

If you already knew, why did you ask me?

I didn’t ask you. I was just talking out loud. I didn’t know you were there.

Oh, sure! sure! You expect me to believe that?

Well, I didn’t know you were there yet.

You thought you were talking to yourself?

You’ve got it! I’m still not sure I’m not talking to myself.

Forms of Dialogue 1: Monologue and Soliloquy

What do you call talking to yourself? Can you have a conversation with yourself?

Of course. It’s called a soliloquy. That is, it’s called a soliloquy if you’re not expecting any answer—in other words, if you’re just expressing your thoughts aloud.

Give me an example.

Okay, if you’ll leave the room.

Leave the room? How can you give me an example if I’m not around?

How can I give you an example if you are?

This is a real baffler.

Just leave the room. You can read the soliloquy afterward.

All right, all right. Give me a second . . .

Format and Punctuation 1

Are you gone? Is he gone? I heard the door close, so I guess he must be out of the room. Now, where was I? Oh, right—I was going to think out loud. Let’s see. Who is this person I’m talking to? It appears he’s a character I’ve invented for the purposes of this book. He needs a name, it seems to me, and I’d best begin using quotation marks for our speeches so that people can keep track of who’s speaking.

“Well, people know who I am because my name’s on the title page of the book, but they have no idea who my partner is. In fact, he’s a ‘foil,’ a person who is used to further the purposes of another person, in this case, the Author. I’d best start another paragraph at this point because I’m going to change my focus. I won’t close my quotes at the end of this paragraph, though, because I’m going to continue to speak.

“I will, however, start the paragraph with quotes so that when my foil gets back he’ll know I’m still talking. What the hell, I think I’ll just call him Fred. That’s as good a name as any. I’ll call him back now, and then I’ll close the quotes on this soliloquy made of two paragraphs—hey, Fred! Come on back!”

Fred opens the door and sticks his head into the room. “Are you talking to me?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He enters and closes the door behind him. “Since when is my name Fred?”

“Since two minutes ago.”

“Oh. Well, it’s not much of a name, but it’s an improvement over nothing. Let’s see what you’ve written. I need to check out what a soliloquy looks like.” Fred bends over the Author’s shoulder and squints at the video monitor of the computer. “Okay, pal, scroll it back so I can see the soliloquy.”

Types of Fictional Characters: Personae

The author scrolls back along the file to the point in question, and Fred reads for a moment, then stiffens. “A foil? I’m a foil? How come I’m not a protagonist, or at least an antagonist, like you said in the introduction? Why do I have to be a foil instead of a character? That makes me a ‘second banana,’ right?”

The Author sighs—he can already see where this line of questioning is leading. Fred is beginning to be something of a pain, and it can only get worse. The Author needs to regain control of his book. “You’re a foil because I need one. I don’t need a protagonist or an antagonist because this isn’t going to be a story, it’s a Socratic dialogue.”

“I get the picture about the soliloquy, and I understand that a dialogue is a conversation, such as the one we’re having at the moment, but what’s a ‘Socratic’ dialogue?” Fred looks quizzically at the Author.

Uses of Italics

The Author sighs again. Brother, he thinks, this is going to get complicated. All Fred knows how to do is ask questions. Aloud, he says, “I thought you said you’d read the introduction. Socrates was an ancient Greek philosopher who taught his pupils by means of conversation—questions and answers. Since this is a book on how to write dialogue, I figured the most appropriate way to proceed was by means of the Socratic dialogue. Go back and take another look at that introduction. You missed a few things. Any more questions?”

“Lots.” Fred gives the Author a big grin. His rather narrow features fold themselves into a lot of small wrinkles. His pale skin seems to be paper thin and very pliable. He has blue eyes, the Author notices for the first time, and rather sparse, almost colorless blonde hair. “I see you’re using quotation marks now to help keep things tidy.”

“And to allow me to put in descriptions and actions and things like that, so that the speeches can be immediately recognized as speeches.”

“I like the way you used italics, too,” Fred says, “to show unspoken thoughts, not a soliloquy. They don’t do it that way in dramas, do they?”

Scripts

Author: No. Scripts look like this.

Fred: Yes, I see. And in between the speeches the playwright can insert stage directions and descriptions of setting and things like that, right?

(Fred moves across the set, stage right, sits down on a chair and crosses his legs.)

Author: Exactly. Plays aren’t meant to be read except by the people staging them, so the script is laid out in this way for the benefit of the actors and the other personnel of the drama. The audience can see the actions, the scenes, and so forth. They can see who’s speaking, so there’s no need for quotation marks or descriptions of places, situations, people, and actions, as there is in fiction.

(Fred uncrosses his legs and gets up again.)

“You know,” he says, “this is kind of interesting.”

“How do you do that?” the Author asks.

“Do what?”

“Knit your brows.”

“Don’t ask me.” Fred shrugs. “You’re the author around here. I don’t even know what ‘knit’ means.”

Author: (aside) If you did, you’d be a knit-wit.

Fred: What did you say? I couldn’t hear.

Author: You weren’t supposed to. It was an aside.

Fred: What . . .

Author: (before Fred can continue) Don’t ask. An aside is a remark made by a character intended to be heard only by the audience of a play, not the other characters onstage.

Fred: I see. Can you have an aside in fiction, too?

Forms of Dialogue 2: Asides

The Author sighs deeply. “Can you have an aside in fiction, too?” he asks. Brother, this Fred character knows nothing at all!

“What are you mumbling?” Fred scowls.

“Sure, you can have an aside in fiction. Usually it will be printed in italics and not put into quotation marks so that the reader can distinguish it from a monologue. But to answer your other question, ‘knit’ means scowling, I think, but never mind.”

Fred makes an effort to stop scowling. “What’s the biggest difference between a fiction writer and a playwright?” he asks.

Narration 1: Exposition

“The fiction writer isn’t limited to one or two writing techniques; rather, he may choose from a wide range of narrative devices. The playwright, however, is limited to the writing techniques of dialogue, monologue, soliloquy, or aside, though on occasion a play (such as Our Town by Thornton Wilder) may have a narrator on the stage filling in the ...