language that we marvel at it while at the same time being fully aware that if left to us, we'd say something banal like, "Nope, I can't hang out with you anymore. If Richard finds out, I'm dead meat." In a romance story, somehow the magical dialogue connects with the romantic in us and we can go there with Francesca. We can believe it.
What makes Francesca's dialogue work so well that we're pulled in at an emotional level? First, it's the details. The author paints word pictures. Instead of "...he'd have to live the rest of his life with the gossip," Francesca
says, "...he'd have to live the rest of his life with the whisper of the people here." This creates an image in the reader's mind, and we can see and feel Richard's pain as the townsfolk whisper to each other about Robert and Francesca.
"If you took me in your arms and carried me to your truck..."
"His hot little Italian wife ran off with some long-haired photographer..."
Magical dialogue also includes metaphors. "In spite of what I said about not taking the road away from you..." Francesca is talking about Robert's freedom.
Magical dialogue is emotional dialogue. Francesca is able to articulate her longing for what Robert has to offer as well as her compassion for how Richard and her children would suffer if she left them and rode off with Robert into the sunset. She's able to hold those two emotions simultaneously, which tears her in two. It's magical.
Like I said previously, I happen to believe that most writers either have the ability to write this kind of dialogue or they don't. We have to have a mind that thinks in magical terminology, sentences, and phrases. I'm so in awe of those who can write like this, so in awe that most of the time I leave it to them to write. But every once in a while, I try. If you think you have this ability, work to develop it. If not, keep trying. Never underestimate the romantic in you.
cryptic
Much of the dialogue in literary and religious stories deals with abstract ideas and vague concepts and has double meanings that readers can't always immediately decipher. They're not supposed to. Sometimes other novels will have bits of cryptic dialogue when the plot calls for some things to remain hidden or secret. These bits of dialogue plant subliminal messages in the reader's mind that help to communicate the story's theme and will ultimately make sense if the author is able to successfully pull the story off at the end. Some writers are especially gifted at this. Chuck Palahniuk is one of them. Here are three dialogue passages from his novel Fight Club that make little sense at the moment, even sounding like the ranting of a crazy person, but when woven into the story build to a satisfying resolution at the end. In the first one, the main character, unnamed because he turns out to be one with his alter ego, Tyler Durden, has just learned that while he was away for
a few days, his condo blew up. In the following scene, the doorman is giving the viewpoint character his perspective on the situation.
"A lot of young people try to impress the world and buy too many things," the doorman said. I called Tyler.
The phone rang in Tyler's rented house on Paper Street. Oh, Tyler, please deliver me. And the phone rang.
The doorman leaned into my shoulder and said, "A lot of young people don't know what they really want." Oh, Tyler, please rescue me. And the phone rang.
"Young people, they think they want the whole world."
Deliver me from Swedish furniture.
Deliver me from clever art.
And the phone rang and Tyler answered.
"If you don't know what you want," the doorman said, "you end up with a lot you don't."
We don't completely know what the doorman is talking about because this takes place only forty pages into the story, and we're just beginning to understand that the viewpoint character's major conflict is his disillusionment with an empty consumer culture and his struggle to find an answer. In the next passage, Marla, the
What makes Francesca's dialogue work so well that we're pulled in at an emotional level? First, it's the details. The author paints word pictures. Instead of "...he'd have to live the rest of his life with the gossip," Francesca
says, "...he'd have to live the rest of his life with the whisper of the people here." This creates an image in the reader's mind, and we can see and feel Richard's pain as the townsfolk whisper to each other about Robert and Francesca.
"If you took me in your arms and carried me to your truck..."
"His hot little Italian wife ran off with some long-haired photographer..."
Magical dialogue also includes metaphors. "In spite of what I said about not taking the road away from you..." Francesca is talking about Robert's freedom.
Magical dialogue is emotional dialogue. Francesca is able to articulate her longing for what Robert has to offer as well as her compassion for how Richard and her children would suffer if she left them and rode off with Robert into the sunset. She's able to hold those two emotions simultaneously, which tears her in two. It's magical.
Like I said previously, I happen to believe that most writers either have the ability to write this kind of dialogue or they don't. We have to have a mind that thinks in magical terminology, sentences, and phrases. I'm so in awe of those who can write like this, so in awe that most of the time I leave it to them to write. But every once in a while, I try. If you think you have this ability, work to develop it. If not, keep trying. Never underestimate the romantic in you.
cryptic
Much of the dialogue in literary and religious stories deals with abstract ideas and vague concepts and has double meanings that readers can't always immediately decipher. They're not supposed to. Sometimes other novels will have bits of cryptic dialogue when the plot calls for some things to remain hidden or secret. These bits of dialogue plant subliminal messages in the reader's mind that help to communicate the story's theme and will ultimately make sense if the author is able to successfully pull the story off at the end. Some writers are especially gifted at this. Chuck Palahniuk is one of them. Here are three dialogue passages from his novel Fight Club that make little sense at the moment, even sounding like the ranting of a crazy person, but when woven into the story build to a satisfying resolution at the end. In the first one, the main character, unnamed because he turns out to be one with his alter ego, Tyler Durden, has just learned that while he was away for
a few days, his condo blew up. In the following scene, the doorman is giving the viewpoint character his perspective on the situation.
"A lot of young people try to impress the world and buy too many things," the doorman said. I called Tyler.
The phone rang in Tyler's rented house on Paper Street. Oh, Tyler, please deliver me. And the phone rang.
The doorman leaned into my shoulder and said, "A lot of young people don't know what they really want." Oh, Tyler, please rescue me. And the phone rang.
"Young people, they think they want the whole world."
Deliver me from Swedish furniture.
Deliver me from clever art.
And the phone rang and Tyler answered.
"If you don't know what you want," the doorman said, "you end up with a lot you don't."
We don't completely know what the doorman is talking about because this takes place only forty pages into the story, and we're just beginning to understand that the viewpoint character's major conflict is his disillusionment with an empty consumer culture and his struggle to find an answer. In the next passage, Marla, the
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