For many of us, the ultimate goal is to write good stories that keep our readers submerged in our stories. That’s certainly my greatest motivator whenever I write.

But it’s so easy to include quirks that yank our readers right out of our stories and dump them back into the real world. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be reminded that I’m reading. It undermines my adventure.

Unfortunately, dialogue is often one of the first things that pulls me out of the story.

One of my editors, CL Hellisen, once told me that my dialogue had to be strong enough to stand on its own, and those words have forever changed the way I write. If I have to tell the reader my character is shouting, begging, or saying their words sarcastically, the dialogue isn’t standing proud.

As with anything else in the wacky world of writing advice, you’ll find fanatics all over the internet where this topic is concerned.

Said is Dead

This group has been messing with our minds since high school—I know my teachers felt it was better to use ‘juicy’ words over boring, overused said. I remember exercises where we had to complete dialogues by using any words other than said, or we’d be penalised.

I recently read a series where characters were hissing purring, and breathing words. And I guess that’s fine, but it grew tedious when said words didn’t follow the laws of nature. This is pedantic, but it’s because I’ve worked so hard to get rid of this particular quirk that it’s the hill on which I’ll end up dying. The action of hissing requires at least a few S’s. You cannot hiss words that are made up of hard sounds. Just as you probably won’t be purring words without R’s. And though we can say words that sound breathy and low, words aren’t air and our vocal cords don’t live in our lungs, so it is physically impossible to breathe words. Or smile them. We smile while talking, yes, but we don’t smile words.

Tangent over.

On a side note, the Said is Dead group is king in Middle Grade and Children’s books. Different rules apply in different genres!

Action & Dialogue Tags

Another group will implore you to please, please, please JUST use said. Asked if you’re feeling wild. If you’re a complete rebel, you can have the odd whispered, shouted or grunted in the manuscript, but for heaven’s sake, don’t tack on an -ly adjective (quietly, fervently, unhappily, etc.). This group also relies on action tags—when you show a character doing something before, after, or during their dialogue.

Which is my go-to. Showing characters doing something gives them dimension. They seem real. Having said that, cutting all action tags might make the conversations between characters seem forced, as though they’re wooden puppets constantly being moved by vicious puppeteers. Real people do sit still and just talk.

Tighter Dialogue

Repetitions draw attention. They cause a pause in the reading or go on to become as soothing as the familiar notes of a lullaby (I wrote more about that here).

And, if we’re honest, ‘said’ will probably be one of the most used words in your manuscript. It should be right up there with the usuals: the, is, was, he, she, it, they, etc.

The people of the ‘kill it with fire’ group consider said a weak word and ultimately classify it as lazy writing.

The others consider said an invisible word, no more than punctuation.

And that, folks, is what makes said a fabulous word. I’m sad to admit it took me a while to reach this conclusion, but I’m lucky enough to have an editor who also has the patience to explain the basics to noob writers.

Invisible words tighten our writing. Words people skim over, words that become like punctuation.

IMO, authors should be the same way. Punctuation. Barely there. We want our readers to lose themselves in the story, to forget that it’s just a fragment of our imaginations inked on a papery background. We want them to experience the story as though they’re living it, right?

So, each time we throw around flashy words, it’s almost like the writer steps into the story, just there in the reader’s peripheral vision, shaking around a fluorescent, sparkling sign with bright letters saying, ‘Me! I made this! Ain’t it purdy?’. Think about Watson ejaculating way too often when one of Sherlock’s discoveries excites him. Makes you stop and giggle, doesn’t it?

For the most part, repetitions become jarring. Even said will become obvious if overused—I wrote an example in this post. But if we use them thoughtfully, invisible words won’t draw the reader’s attention. I’ve come to view these little pretties as the heartbeat of the story. Like a rhythm drumming in the subconscious, the working song that increases productivity.

We instinctively know to stop after a full stop. We pause at a comma, linger for a moment, and we hear the rise in pitch after a question mark, right? We don’t need to specifically look at any punctuation mark to register that it’s there, just like we instinctively read over said. We know what it means, so we don’t have to focus on it to figure out its purpose.

When our characters start arguing, booming, challenging, musing, whining, gloating and so on, the reader still knows what the word means, but they have to actually read those words. Not like said, a fleeting little ghost at the end of the sentence.

Invisible words maintain a steady tempo in your story. Fancy words create pauses and slow down the reader’s pace. The emergency breaks that stop the reader’s reading and hurl them out of the wagon. Not ideal if we want them to love our stories.

As usual, any writing rule has exceptions. Sometimes, the scene will flow better if we tell our reader the character is whispering, shouting, or saying something quietly.

What About Language?

Things get wacky when it comes to the spoken word.

Writing rules say, ‘Kill cliches with fire’. ‘Never, ever, use the word very.’ ‘Bad grammar will kill our stories before they ever get published.’ ‘Limit swearing.’

But when real people talk, they use cliches, ignore grammar, pepper sentences with the word ‘very’, and some can’t string together a single sentence without at least one expletive. Writing believable dialogue means breaking some rules. That isn’t a licence to throw out the rules for good—these things exist to tighten our stories—but it does mean we can get away with breaking the odd rule.

What’s your stance on good dialogue? Let’s meet in the comments!

Until next time.

Yolandie