That should be, “I do not imagine…”
It seems that I don’t proof-read too well, either.
The bottom line (trying to paraphrase/summarize a number of points already made while injecting some thoughts of my own):
Although different mediums of dialogue (e.g., actual dialogue, dialogue in books, dialogue in plays, etc…) have the same intent, there are requirements demanded by one medium that don’t translate well to other media. An analogy that I can think of is makeup: a person in a large theatre production might wear a ton of makeup, even if they are trying on stage to look as if they are not wearing any makeup at all - comparatively, a person in real life would simply (drumroll, please) wear no makeup. In other words, what allowances/adjustments are demanded by the medium being written for? Just the act of reviewing my voicemails drives me nuts - do I really use that many “um’s” and “uh’s”? Although people tend to unconsciously edit out those bad habits in day-to-day speech, there is a need to edit them out in writing because their distracting nature is amplified in written dialogue (for the most part; see below for statement on character traits).
After allowing for the medium being written for, the next factor is conveying character traits - what dialogue tone, word-choice, quirks, etc. are needed to convey what is essential to know about the character? You may need some “um’s” or “uh’s” to convey something essential about that character (for instance - that he couldn’t leave a decent voicemail to save his life…).
Now - integrate the need to allow for the demands of the medium being used with the dialogue quirks, wordchoice, tone, etc. needed to convey essential character traits - what stays in? What’s edited out? It is the ability of the writer to make those hard choices that determine the quality of their dialogue…IMHO
Think of writing exposition as Rock n’ Roll. Writing dialogue is Jazz.
Even some great Rockers can’t do Jazz.
Oh - and two other points:
-
While I loved my little exposition on dialogue (yay me! :wally) sometimes bad dialogue is simply because the writer can’t write for shit. Some people can do one thing well, and that’s what we like them for, so we tolerate their dialogue…
-
Throatshot, I must admit, your username evokes such a disturbing image to me that I had trouble checking out this thread - does it mean what it sounds like it means (i.e., somebody shot in the throat? eeeeewwwww!)
Oh, what the heck – I haven’t written anything in ages, and I wouldn’t mind having some SDMBers critique my work…
The mercenary slipped into the booth across from Ben, then eased back in smooth indifference. “So, what do you want?”
With an emotionless look, Old Ben replied, “We want to leave the planet as soon as possible, no questions asked. And no encounters with the imperials.”
The mercenary winced with mild exaggeration. “That’s not easy these days. Any cargo?”
“Myself, the boy, and two droids.”
“Hrmph.” The mercenary gazed at the ceiling for a bit, then snapped his head back down. “Five hundred credits.”
“Five hundred?!” Luke yelped. “I could buy–”
“Sssssssh!” Ben hissed as he waved Luke down. A quick glance around the cantina showed that no one had taken notice. Giving the boy a measured look, Ben replied, “It’s a deal. How soon can we leave?”
The mercenary arched an eyebrow; clients who didn’t want to haggle were rare. “I’ll need a little time to get the ship ready. Docking bay 54, one hour.”
“Fine,” Ben replied, ignoring the incredulous look on Luke’s face.
Comments? Criticisms? Academy award nominations? 
Let’s counter that with this one*:
OBI-WAN : I have a bad feeling about this.
QUI-GON : I don’t sense anything.
OBI-WAN : It’s not about the mission, Master, it’s somethging…elsewhere…elusive.
QUI-GON : Don’t center on your anxiety, Obi-Wan. Keep your concentration here and now where it belongs.
OBI-WAN : Master Yoda says I should be mindful of the future…
QUI-GON : …but not at the expense of the moment. Be mindful of the living Force, my young Padawan.
OBI-WAN : Yes, Master…how do you think the trade viceroy will deal with the chancellor’s demands?
QUI-GON : These Federation types are cowards. The negotiations will be short.
Made me wince every time I heard it.
[QUOTE]
*Originally posted by rjung *
**
How about a plagarism lawsuit?
My take on the exercise itself? It’s a good bit of writing calisthenics to strengthen the dialogue muscles. Take two or three people, a situation, and try to make some realistic-sounding and interesting words come out of their mouths. A very good exercise. Simple in its concept, but challenging in the execution.
My take on your samples? Good dialogue, straight, to the point. Gives us a sense of the characters and the situation. I did think the kid’s lines were a little stilted, but putting words in the mouths of children is very difficult (I know this from experience). To be fair, it was, as you said, a five-minute exercise. But children speak differently from adults, and if there are two adults talking and only one child, a lot of children are less likely to speak anyway.
I might have had a bit of dialogue between the old man and the kid before the mercenary showed up, just to establish the kid’s character. Then he could be relatively quiet during the business exchange, unless the mercenary spoke to him. Having him blurt something out seemed a little contrived, unless he’s a big-mouthed kid who speaks before he thinks. Even though he’s supposed to be a naive kid, he seemed a little too “golly-gee” rather than just unseasoned, and it didn’t seem to fit the scene.
In fairness, though, it may have seemed that much more glaring to me because of the fine dialogue between the two men.
Try reading some Robert Heinlein. The dialogue is quick, witty and entertaining. Also, check out Sommerset Maugham. Both are good. Maybe today’s authors just don’t get it. If anyone has a “good dialouge” recomendations, feel free to share.
Mercenary/Smuggler - Snake
Old Man - Jenkins
Naive Kid - Henry
Jenkins and Henry exchanged anxious glances. The waitress hadn’t bothered to ID Henry when he ordered a drink. Henry thought nothing of it, nor did he read anything into the pair of breasts he found pushed into his face when she delivered the nachos, putting the snack at the far side of the table. She seemed to have lost interest now, busying herself in one of the bottom shelves behind the bar. The two men on the stools, really the only other patrons of the establishment, commended her on her work ethic. She giggled and thanked them.
This, of course, is what Jenkins was focusing on. After a moment he caught himself staring… or rather, the waitress caught him… and he resumed looking anxious.
“Those are for gambling, right?” Henry wondered, pointing at some slot machines. Jenkins nodded confirmation. They had been busy most of the night, even though the bar’s occupants barely numbered more than the bar’s staff. “Don’t they know they’re not going to win?”
“Some people enjoy losing,” the elder man shrugged, glancing back at the waitress.
“Do you think she’ll do it?” asked Henry.
Jenkins was startled. “Who?”
“Snake.” Henry suddenly nudged him, looking excitedly across the bar. “Shh. There she is.”
Jenkins glared reproachfully for a few seconds, but clearly Henry had no idea. Jenkins finally turned to the sound of heavy footsteps coming towards the table.
An athletic woman, lean or bouncy in all the right places, dropped herself into the third chair. Her hair played about her pixie face, slighly marred down one side by a crisp scar. "Motherfucker!" Snake reported, “That was a big fucking poop. I broke a sweat.”
Henry wished she wouldn’t cuss like that, but so far she had laughed whenever he made a suggestion on how to improve her virtues.
Instead, Henry cut right to the heart of the matter. “Will you do it?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucked if I don’t…” She wanted to see his expression. “… fucked if I do.”
Henry didn’t see it, and said as much. Inwardly, he wondered why she was cursing so much. She almost seemed to be getting worse.
“What do I mean?” she laughed. “Sugar, you are dense.” He frowned. It was expected, of course, but he still didn’t like it. When people couldn’t use logic against his goodness, they would always resort to name calling. “I have no reason to haul your sorry ass out of here. Money isn’t everything, I can always get more.” She pushed her drink towards him. “Here, sugar, have another Long Island Tea.”
Jenkins snatched it away from him. “Hey, I’m thirsty,” Henry protested, “I’m really thirsty.”
Jenkins stared evenly at Snake. “Uh-uh. If he’s drinking alcohol, he’s drinking the nasty stuff.” He turned and signalled the waitress. “One Vodka! Harshest thing you have.” He turned his attention back to Snake. “Look, I don’t think you understand the situation. We need to get out of here and his father can pay you a lot of money. More money than you can possibly turn down.”
“His daddy is a complete horses ass,” she said firmly. “The things he says about my friends and my family…” She paused as the waitress delivered the drink. “… there is simply no excusing. I’m not about to tell you a sob story, but you better understand how much pain and grief his daddy causes to us down here. No one deserves the kind of grief and hardship we’ve had put on us, especially not because we simply disagree with the mad fucker.”
Henry would simply not have this whore talk about his father that way. “Don’t you remember the book of Job?” he demanded. He was about to press on with his admonishment, but he was completely taken aback when she began to shriek with uncontrollable laughter. She was laughing too hard to breath. She nestled her face into the crook of her arm and used her other arm to bang on the table in disbelieving merriment.
Henry glanced at Jenkins, who didn’t seem shocked at all. Eventually Henry’s jaw picked itself off his chest and a dour expression slowly came over him. Her laughter slowly began to abate and she began to regain some of her composure.
Henry, who had decided he should appear unaffected by this, nonchalantly ventured to try his drink. He sprayed it back into his glass with a gurgled yelp. “This burns me!” he exclaimed, horrified.
This set Snake off again, even harder than the first time, and she stumbled to the ladies room before she pissed herself.
Anal Scurvy, I’m quite impressed. I enjoyed reading that.
DAVEW0071, thank you for the compliment.
Thanks a lot. I just reread it now it’s evidently pretty raw. My biggest mistake was when I write, “Henry didn’t see it, and told her as much.” After the comment about her seeing his expression, this almost indicates he’s talking about his own expression instead of colloquially saying he doesn’t understand her.
I’m looking forward to feedback, hopefully this thread doesn’t float down into oblivion before that happens.
a lot of writers don’t socialize much,
Some people are PURELY visual minded, and it hard to translate what’s in their head… right down to speech
Bad dialogue comes when you force it out of the characters just so you can progress the plot. Like forcing a rat along a certain path in a maze instead of letting it find its own way. Good dialogue comes from a well-designed character who is allowed to react and speak in a fashion natural to them.
Sometimes when you let your characters run on their own they can take you in interesting directions you hadn’t expected.
Anal Scurvy kicks ass right down to his name!
How about a little Donald Westlake, his dialogue always makes me laugh:
John said, “Andy, you still don’t use the doorbell.”
“I’ve heard your doorbell, John,” Andy told him, bringing his coffee over to join them at the kitchen table. “It’s an awful sound, it’s a nasty buzz. It’s like one of those sounds they describe on Car Talk, why would you want to start your day listening to a nasty noise like that?”
Complaining to May, John said, “He uses our apartment door to practice his housebreaking on. And the building door.”
“You gotta keep those muscles exercised,” Andy said.
May said, “I don’t know, John, I don’t mind it anymore, especially if he calls ahead, like today, so there won’t be any, you know, embarrassment. It’s almost like having a pet.”
John looked Andy over, as though considering him as a pet: Keep him, or have him put to sleep?
After a minute, Andy decided to hide behind his coffee cup awhile, and then to clear his throat a lot, and then to say, “Did May tell you I had us a little job?”
“Breaking and entering?” John asked. “Like you do here?”
“Now, John,” May said.
“No, nothing like that,” Andy told him. “It’s just a little digging. It’s hardly even illegal.”
I’m confused – should I consider that a compliment or an insult?
Shrug I did it all from the top of my head, though I didn’t bother to take it out of the original context. What can I say, it was a five-minute exercise…
(Guess this is why I haven’t quit my day job, eh? 
)
I enjoy writing dialogue. I have ongoing conversations in my head anyway, so I’m pretty much just transcribing.
I think I write dialogue well, but I do realize I have room for a LOT of improvement.
Sheri
“Enough,” the boy said and looked at the man square in the eye. “What’s the cost?”
The man didn’t flinch. “Take it easy, boy. You’ll find you are in a sellers’ market. I have a dozen others who’d sell their daughters for a berth on my ship out of here.”
“So cut the crap. What’s the cost?”
“A month is a long time to spend at sea with someone who’s nipping your head, you understand?”
Now the old man reached forward from his seat and took the boy by the arm. “John,” he said. “Let me.”
“Wouldn’t want to have to throw anyone overboard,” the mercenary smiled humourlessly revealing two rows of rotten stumps. “Would we?”
“Don’t worry,” the old man said. “No-one’s going to give you any trouble.”
“You don’t give me any concerns, old man. But your young friend here seems a bit jumpy.”
“I don’t care for dealing with…”
“John!” the old man interrupted.
“Don’t care for what?” the mercenary asked, getting to his feet. “Dealing with the likes of me?”
The boy held his tongue.
“I’ve seen a lot in my time, boy. And one thing I know is that when it comes to wars and dying , then everyone wants to talk to me. All those who wouldn’t be seen under the same roof but a day before, well all of a sudden like, they’re crying by the dockside. All wanting on my humble ship and offering me no end of riches for the pleasure of my company.”
The old man pulled the boy aside and painfully rose to his feet. “Here,” he said. He held out his hand, open to reveal the first jewel that they had gone to such lengths to keep not a week ago. “I’m sure that will be enough.”
The mercenary smiled once more. “I knew you were a man I could do business with. But transportation is an expensive business these days.”
“There will be another one for you, exactly the same, when we arrive at our destination.”
The mercenary pocketed the jewel. “Welcome aboard,” he said.
Sorry to ask mate but just out of interest, what did you think of the dialogue in the story linked below? I know it’s nothing like the mercenary-smuggling scenario presented below but I’m thinking of showing the one below to someone who might be able to get it published in an anthology and your professional opinion would be very helpful. The dialogue part is about a page long and stuck about 2 thirds through the story.
http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?threadid=96427
Thanks