I’m feeling a little creative today and am in the mood to tackle something new and different. I searched for a prompt on Pinterest, and this is the one that struck my fancy. So, the way I see it, I will start my story with these words and see where it takes me. 500 words is my goal. Let’s see what happens…(I love this part of creativity…wherever will the story go?)
“This is my life now. I have climbed this hill, and now I will die upon it.”
“Shut up,” I said. “We’ve only been hiking for twenty minutes.”
I can talk to my grandmother like this because we have that sort of relationship. For the past several years, I have lived in her home following the demise of my own marriage and then sad divorce. Her home is pretty grand, and she’s done her best to keep up with it refusing to the leave the premises, a home where she has lived for past 50 years of her life. When my grandfather passed and I found myself single again, I volunteered to live with her. I won’t lie—my mother convinced me that this would be a good thing for both of us, and I can readily admit that she was right.
My grandmother is a spry thing at the age of 79. She walks with a cane by her side, but I’m certain it’s more of a tool of status rather than a tool of aid. She still has all her wits about her, especially her keen sense of humor that she can turn on like a faucet, which is quite often, actually. I stand adjacent to her watching her marvel at the landscape on this hill above her house on the sprawling grounds in upstate New York; she looks almost regal in her red and black plaid cape, her black, long leather gloves, her somewhat baggy blue jeans, and her rubber boots. Her short, silver hair blows gently in the wind, and she holds her hands up near her eyes to block the sun. She has a self-deprecating wit that marvels all the seniors at the Senior Center in town where she likes to hang out, play cards, and share her stories of life while also listening to the tales of others. Believe me, I’ve hung around this group enough to know they are all talkers. Even if folks sitting around them start to nod off, the best of the talkers just keep on talking. Their bodies may be old and withering, but their tongues—they are still sharp and nimble.
“You can’t pretend I’m going to live forever, you know,” she says to me, shouting because she’s hard of hearing.
“No one ever said that, Nana. None of us will live forever.”
“I think you think I’m always going to be around, saving your neck.”
I laugh. She always says this to make herself feel better. She knows I’ve been such a help to her, but this makes her feel good to say so.
“You’re right,” I say. “I will wither away with you when you go.”
“But what about Sal?” she says, looking at me, both hands on her cane.
“What about Sal? He’s not the guy for me. You know that.”
“No, I don’t. I know you are perfect for each other. You are afraid to live. You think if you live, I will die.”
“What the hell is all this talk about dying, Nana? All we did was go for a hike.”
“Yes, up this big frigging hill, and now I’m dying.”
Yesterday on Instagram, a fellow writer I follow who follows me back asked for input from other writers. Her question was this: How do you write authentic characters, and then how do you make them sound convincing in dialogue?
As someone who has written three fiction books and teaches the subject of writing, I have some advice I can offer. I may not be perfect, and I may be an indie author, but I think I have some ideas to share that may be helpful. I enjoy offering tips to beginning writers because we’ve all been there. These tips are from experience and encompass the best advice I can give from my own perspective.
First, let’s tackle making characters authentic and believable. To begin, you have to have a pretty good sketch of your character. To illustrate my points, I’m going to use John, a main character from my newest book, Inn Significant. Milly, the other main character, is the narrator, so it’s up to me as the writer to showcase John as Milly sees him throughout the book through her eyes. Let’s begin.
John’s Character Sketch
John is 38 years old. He was in the military and had a couple of heartbreaking and powerfully disturbing experiences when he was overseas flying military aircraft. These experiences haunt John, and while I never come out and say he has PTSD, he has PTSD. As the writer, I know this about him. This is the makeup of John that leads him to want to live a simple life on the Eastern Shore of Maryland working at an Inn in a small town (where he is from). He wants nothing complicated. He works for Milly’s parents at the Inn and has his own cottage on the grounds. From this point, I made a list of other things John likes in order to “see” him as a character—and to keep me on track as I wrote him. What are some other characteristics about John? He’s kind. He’s helpful. He likes doing things to please others. He likes to sneak into the Inn’s kitchen at night and whip up his grandmother’s muffins for the guests. He is an artist, which is how he relieves his stress. He runs every day. He’s in shape. He has high cheekbones and is tanned from working outside in the gardens. He drinks Gatorade. He listens to James Taylor. He’s close with his family, and he adores his grandmother. He’s respectful. He’s loyal. And he’s always been incredibly fond of Milly, even when she was married (before her husband suddenly passed away). He likes to read, but isn’t a writer. He owns a boat and likes to kayak.
That’s my basic character sketch of John. These were the things I knew about him as I began to write.
Knowing all these things about him helped me write dialogue that works. So how can you write dialogue that works? To me, you know the characters so well that you can picture exchanges happening as if you are watching a movie. You almost have to pretend they are real. How would you like to see things unfold? How would the characters relate to one another? What would a realistic scene sound like?
Keeping these questions in mind will help you write your dialogue scenes in a way that you should write them. And my other big tip on writing dialogue that works is to read it out loud many times to yourself, and if possible, read it aloud to someone you trust to get feedback.
As an example of this, I will share an exchange between John and Milly from my book; this exchange takes place the first night John asks Milly to hang out with him in the Inn’s kitchen and only her second day working at the Inn (she’s filling in for her parents who have gone away for a year). Milly has not been alone with a man since her husband’s death two and a half years prior, so she’s a little awkward and nervous, but trying to relax as he’s baking.
The Excerpt from Inn Significant
I watched John move around with ease, almost ambidextrous in nature, gliding around effortlessly, pulling items and food from cabinets and pantries. He opened the oven to check the temperature. He mixed up a gooey batter in a sturdy, red mixing bowl with a matching red Williams-Sonoma spatula.
“I’m sorry. I already started the process when I decided to knock on your door,” he said. “This batch is mixed.”
He filled the muffin cups with the batter, letting it pour into each cup, and when they were all filled, he slid the entire tin of what looked like perfection into the oven.
“Would you care for a cup of tea?” he asked, attempting to conjure up a British accent. It didn’t go too well, and we both smiled.
“Yes. Decaf, please,” I said, attempting to produce a similar accent in response, but failing miserably at it.
“Got it,” he said as he began making it.
“I feel silly just sitting here not helping.”
“Don’t. It’s my grandma’s recipe, and because a little birdie told me you didn’t try one this morning, I’m going to make you try one as it comes out of the oven. Your mother told me that your writing career began with food reviews. I’m looking forward to your verdict.”
“That was a long time ago, when I actually was a writer and it meant something.”
“I understand,” he said. “But I’d still like to hear your review of Grandma’s muffins.”
“I’m feeling extraordinary pressure to like them,” I said.
“The word ‘like’ shouldn’t be a part of your vocabulary when you’re describing treats you will salivate over,” he said with a wink. “That’s something you do on Facebook. As a writer and former food critic, I expect a far more elaborate and eloquent dissection and analysis of the food from you.”
“I’m better on paper,” I teased.
When the timer went off, he pulled the first batch out of the oven, steam rising off the tops ever so slightly, and then sat across from me at the table.
“Have one of these,” he said, and he placed a hearty, substantial treat onto my delicate plate adorned with roses.
“A crunchy muffin?” I asked. It appeared to be hard on the bottom with some sort of loose, sugary topping that resembled a crumb bun on top.
“Grandma will want to know if you like her recipe.”
I remember distinctly when I wrote my first novel, Beneath the Mimosa Tree, and I read a passage back to my husband. I was writing from a 32-year-old man’s point of view, and I needed to know if Michael would say what I had written. I read the passage aloud to my husband, and when I was done, I stopped.
“Is that what Michael would say?” I asked my husband.
“No,” he said. “Michael would not say that.”
“What would he say, then?” I asked my husband, seeking help with the paragraph, especially because my husband happens to be A MAN.
“I don’t know,” he said, “but he wouldn’t say that.”
I reworked that paragraph at least ten times until finally, I read it aloud once more, and my husband said, “That’s it. That’s what Michael would say.”
And that, my friends, is why you seek input from others and why it takes time to write something vivid, meaningful, and realistic.
I’m currently reading The Help and enjoying Kathryn Stockett’s use of dialogue to paint a picture of her characters. Some of Stockett’s characters have a dialect and use slang and incorrect grammar; if she didn’t write them this way, they wouldn’t be authentic. So how can writers get inside their characters’ heads to make them realistic? One way is to use your ears. Listen to how people talk and the way they interact with each other. Studying people is a fascinating business.
A showcase example of effective dialogue is Ernest Hemingway’s short story Hills Like White Elephants. Told primarily in dialogue format, it’s absolutely brilliant and is my favorite Hemingway piece. Within these pages, a conversation takes place between a man and a woman; a clear conflict is at the heart of the conversation, though Hemingway very cleverly insinuates the crux of the problem without coming right out and telling readers. This omission of details causes readers to have to read between the lines and guess at the conundrum that lies between the two main characters. But it’s worth it—reading it is like eavesdropping on a conversation and trying to decipher its intimate codes (and as someone who loves to study people and get character ideas, it’s pure delight!)
Admittedly, I’ve used conversations and dialogue that I’ve overheard, or perhaps even were related to me by someone else in my own writing. It’s that desire to take reality and turn it into fiction that intrigues me and makes me want to create memorable fictional characters (kind of like reality television, but only more genuine). It isn’t easy. But the ability to write strong dialogue makes those characters believable.
If you haven’t read Hemingway’s short story, treat yourself to tremendous dialogue and crafty writing that makes you wonder and ponder this scene. There’s a reason he’s legendary.
Stephanie Parrillo Verni
All rights reserved. Articles may be used with permission.
Contact firstname.lastname@example.org for consideration.