I love writing dialogue. It is where the people in a story really come to life. I mentioned in my last blog, “The Journey,” how writing dialogue and action can ultimately change the course of a scene, a chapter or even the whole story.

How many times have you had a conversation with someone that was so deep it stays with you long after? Even if the conversation was short, I remember instances when I met someone and what we talked about, the gist of it has never left me. Though we may not remember all the words, they create a form that remains in time where that conversation took place. The words then are like a ghost that lingers where a moment was shared with another human being.

We’ve all had trivial or even seemingly meaningless conversations throughout our lives. The “How are yous?” and the “Good mornings,” and all the little bits of dialogue with strangers, or people we see every day. These moments of shared words have meaning too. These tidbits of conversation are like the spaces of blank page between scenes. Everyday words with others give us the space for the important, soul moving talks to grow. We need it all to complete the stories we live, and the ones we write.  

What an incredible creature the tongue is. It tastes our food, keeps our lips from being dry, it can signify disapproval with a simple protrusion from its little cave. It can be used for pleasure when invited to play with another person to whom we are attracted. Mainly though, we use it to fit sounds around our thoughts and push them out of our mouths to be understood, feared, adored or obeyed. It’s like having a miniature god to control, one who obeys our commands only some of the time. Without it we would have no spoken word, but with it, the ability to say anything. Words are used to create, convey, or destroy. It’s how we use them that matters. Where would humanity be now if we’d never developed the ability to use these sounds that that somehow make sense? What would the world be without them?

I’ve heard it said that you need other people in order to be human. I think that might be true. Talking can reveal a new sense of being. Words spoken aloud when alone are like puffs of smoke. They may linger for a while, they might even be good to hear for ourselves, but they dissipate quickly without others to hear them. Words spoken aloud with another person are like tiny strings that tie us to one another, even if they are meant to drive us apart. Words matter and they have form.

When you’re writing, how many times have you had two characters speak in a scene when one of them says something you didn’t expect? Aren’t we as the authors supposed to have total command of the words our characters speak? I think yes and no. there is something to be said for just letting the conversation play out. I like to put two characters in a scene and let them go. Much of what I write in such moments is ultimately cut, but in my opinion, it’s the best way to get the most authentic conversation out of the people.

We create our characters from some primordial pool of our imagination. On paper, we set them upright, and give them a face, and a name, and motives by using little black letters set in a row. Yet, I believe that aside from the actions they take, it is in the moments when we let them talk that we learn the most about them.  

Conversation between two or more people is a living thing. Sometimes when I write dialogue I just play it out, I try to go where the characters’ conversation goes and they reveal themselves even more. I have had moments of dialogue reshape entire chapters. It can be illuminating and frustrating, just like talking to a person. Dialogue is alive. It becomes its own character, and that character has a place in the story.