Since it seems like recently I’m on a spree of writing all the blog posts I vaguely hinted at in previous posts but hadn’t written up until now. Sorry about the sequel barrage – I promise I’ll start coming up with actually new content soon. Continue reading
There’s a piece of writing advice that I particularly love, despite firmly believing that all writing rules are just guidelines made to be broken in interesting ways. It is this: Every scene or element in the story must do at least two things to further the story, or it gets cut. It’s sort of the inverse of Kill Your Darlings. Kill Your Darlings says to get rid of story things because you love them too much. The Double Duty Rule says to get rid of things if they’re only there because you love them too much. Continue reading
I’m currently going through the editing process, so hang onto your butts, boys, girls and others, because ranting may happen.
Confession: I love the editing process. I love everything about it: I love the satisfaction of fixing problems with my writing, I love the tweaking and the rewriting, I love watching the wordcount change as I add or remove scenes, and I sure as sugar love complaining about it constantly.
Isn’t it great? It’s the one part of writing writers are allowed to both unironically love and unironically hate at the same time. You sit there and you bang your head or hands against the keyboard, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to write this tripe in the first place, and then feel all warm and glowy once you’ve fixed a problem.
I feel like editing is the one place in writing where novel writers have actual milestones to work towards. If you’re anything like me as a writer, you have no idea how long the story’s going to be when you’ve finished. This is referring to novel writing only, obviously – academic writing, journalism, and anyone who writes to short story submission criteria can safely ignore this section. But even outliners, who have a very certain idea of where the story will go, often don’t know the actual wordcount for their finished piece. I always “aim” for around 90,000 words, that is, whenever anyone asks me how long my book will be, or when I’m considering how many months the first draft should take, I use 90,000 words as my estimate. My actual book lengths? Vary from about 83,000 words to about 107,000 words (as of current drafts). This means, while you can sit down and go “Yes! I finished another 10,000 word milestone!”, it feels a little meaningless, because it doesn’t actually tell you how much closer to your goal you are. You have no goal.
Editing, on the other hand? I have a little red list of all the problems, and when one is fixed, I cross it off the list. It’s really easy to see how far along I am. I fixed four problems with my novel this week – that’s 5% of my 86-problem list!! At this rate, I’ll be done in 20 weeks!
Or, at least, it could if THE DARN LIST WOULD STOP RESPAWNING.
Big edits throw all these lovely things I just said out of the window, because there is nothing a writer can possibly do that will stop a big edit messing up a whole lot of smaller edits along the way. Restructure your book so the pacing is tighter? Get ready to go back and fix all the continuity errors! Kill a character at the end of the book? Yay, retconning your foreshadowing! Remove scenes and themes? Hope you remember where all the references to that are, because you’re going to be picking them out of the story like Cthulhu picks souls out of its teeth after a meal.
The upshot of this is: If you ever have a writer friend, and you’re waiting on their book to get through edits, please understand that whatever time frame they give you will likely expand, probably by three months at least. They’re not trying to annoy you. They’re just playing infinite whack-a-mole against their brain.
But I swear they’re probably enjoying it anyway.
Now that I’ve apparently got that venting out of the way, let’s have a look at dialogue tags.
I’d like to start with the conventional wisdom, not from schools this time, but from writers.
Don’t use adverbs, ever.
Don’t use any verb other than ‘said’.
To steal a joke from Elmore Leonard, “they admonish gravely”.
Like all mediocre advice, there’s a lot of truth behind this, in specific areas. I’m still a little torn on whether it’s good “newbie” advice – after all, if we teach newbies that these are the rules, then expect them to know how and when to break them when they get more experienced, aren’t we doing exactly the thing I ranted about for so long last time?
Let’s back up and explore these a bit. I’m going to do them in reverse order, because I’m annoying like that. So – “don’t use any verb other than ‘said’.”
What’s good about this advice? Why would you tell this to a newbie? One very simple reason, really: Being able to put a fancy verb in a dialogue tag absolves the writer of having to work as hard in the dialogue to convey meaning.
“You won’t be able to do it,” she asserted.
Asserted conveys a lot there, in terms of tone. In many situations, that’s a perfectly acceptable sentence – in many contexts, it’s the best, most concise way of conveying the information.
But what about:
“It’s true!” she asserted.
How much do you really need ‘asserted’ there? The exclamation mark conveys much of the emphasis, and the simple declaration is short and forceful in and of itself. You could definitely read tone from the context (if you can’t read tone into “It’s true!” from context, the writer probably has more issues than just dialogue tags). “She asserted” just isn’t necessary.
Here’s the other issue:
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To the shops, with friends,” his friend replied.
What extra information does “replied” carry here? Absolutely nothing. If it had been ‘retorted’, then the extra venom might have justified the fancy verb, but here you’re just distracting the reader for no purpose.
This is the argument for “no verbs other than ‘said’”: A new writer is better off avoiding these mistakes to encourage them to develop better dialogue writing skills than relying on the crutch of fancy verbs.
Here’s the bad: Some verbs are just better than said in their appropriate context. These are the verbs describing voice and nothing else.
If you need to convey that a character is modifying their volume or pitch, there is no better way than to use a verb meaning exactly that volume or pitch of voice, and leave it at that. Forcing a writer, especially a new writer, to convey those things through dialogue alone is likely to just end up with clumsy workarounds – extra exclamation marks, overuse of italics, ellipses all over the place, too much description of character action to provide context for the speech to convey tone.
The rule about adverbs comes from much the same place, though it’s a little more clear-cut. Reducing the new writer’s reliance on things outside dialogue forces development of dialogue writing. However, it’s much harder to talk about where the exceptions are, because adverbs are much more nebulous. If you’ve got an ear for writing, you’ll hear where they’re necessary, and where they add to the writing rather than taking away from it.
If you don’t, well … it’s not the sort of thing you can be taught. It’s a combination of sentence flow plus overall meaning divided by conciseness of sentence viewed through the lens of personal voice and writing style. Unfortunately, this is really useless to try and tell someone who’s new, so it just gets boiled down to “don’t” and we kind of hope that the new people learn how to use them right on their own eventually.
So, to talk about proper use of dialogue tags, I’m going to try taking an opposite approach: Define good dialogue tag use in terms of what it is, rather than what it isn’t.
Let’s stop and break down what the dialogue tag actually does. I would posit that a good dialogue tag has three purposes, in this order of importance:
– To identify to the reader who is speaking so that dialogue does not become confusing;
– To provide extra information on how to read the dialogue when context is insufficient; and
– To inform the flow of the sentence.
The first is fairly self-explanatory. The reader needs to know who is speaking. Adding “name/pronoun said” occasionally into the text keeps the speakers clear and makes reading easier. For this purpose, just ‘said’ is fine; no need for frills.
But, if you’re like me, you don’t like things that have only one purpose in the writing, and your dialogue does need some tone context to help it along, even if you’re amazing at character writing.
Still, fancy verbs all the time has a main problem: no matter how excellent your vocabulary is, you’re going to run out of verbs referring to speech that don’t sound just plain clunky (when you’re resorting to ‘pontificated’, you’ve officially run out of words), or you’re going to have some issues with repetition. Suddenly, nobody says things, everybody “hisses” – or more realistically, everyone who is angry “hisses” and everybody who is shocked “gasps”, and your individual characterisation kind of goes down the toilet.
Instead, action is your friend.
He rolled his eyes. “Are you quite done?”
“I didn’t mean it.” She scratched the back of her head.
Double-whammy! Characterisation and a shorthand for who’s speaking at any given time! It’s not lazy, it’s just efficient.
The third one, and the one you’re going to want to use really carefully, is dialogue tag to indicate flow.
Here’s a sentence with a fancy verb.
“I think we need to go to the house again,” he ventured.
Here’s a sentence with a judiciously-placed dialogue tag.
“I think,” he said, “we need to go to the house again.”
“I think we need to go to the house again,” he said. “But it’s just my opinion, I guess.”
“I think we need to go to the house again.” He glanced around the room. “But it’s just my opinion, I guess.”
The dialogue tag splits the sentence up and indicates hesitation or a significant pause without needing to use ellipses or saying “he hesitated” or any of those things. Flow is pretty much the most powerful tool in a writer’s toolbox – the first sentence with the fancy verb isn’t bad, exactly, but the ones after it just sound right as you read them. Combining appropriate use of flow with a well-placed action gives the best picture of what’s going on, and the most subtle.
Instead of talking about “said is dead” or not to use verbs or adverbs, I’d rather be pointing new writers to a checklist.
Does it need to be there to indicate who’s speaking?
Does it provide information that ‘said’ or the dialogue alone does not?
Is it used to indicate sentence flow?
After you’ve satisfied those criteria, you can start adding adverbs. I promise, they’re not going to bite you.