In an earlier blog we discuss how one can blend narrative and dialogue. Here we expand dialog use another way by conveying emotion and thereby provide a positive emotional experience for the reader. That is the novel’s point. This is also another example of how we can follow the adage, “Don’t tell. Show.”
Let’s say that we have a conversation between two characters about idea ownership. We could express it as
“You stole my idea,” Hector said “Your ideas are never any good,” Marcia said in response.
If the job of the author was simply to convey a thought through words, then mission accomplished. Hector and Marcia disagreed with each other. Period. However, the tract falls far short of providing an emotional experience. In fact we have no perspective on what motivates their words. Is Hector upset or is he just teasing Marcia? We don’t feel anything. We could try this.
“You stole my idea,” Hector said angrily “Your ideas are never any good,” Marcia shot back.
That’s a little better. The author has told us that the characters are upset with each other. Yet the reader doesn’t feel it. We can’t absorb the extent of Marcia’s anger. We can’t plumb the depths of her emotion. The passage is still empty. The dialogue tells us they are angry, but it doesn’t show us their anger. How about this.
Marcia watched, face in open mouthed astonishment as Hector, towering above her grabbed her left arm. “You stole my idea,” he said. Grimacing, Marcia twisted out of his grip, then smacked him. Eyes glaring, arms stiff by her sides, she said, “Your ideas are never good.”
Now we feel it. Both characters are furious and are coming to blows. The emotion is not just visible, you can’t miss it, winding its way around and through the same dialogue. But, we could also write this.
Hector slipped his arms around Marcia’s small waist. His head was full of her smell, her soft skin and warmth moving through and capturing him. “You stole my idea,” he said. He felt her yield to him, arms around his neck, as she nuzzled him on the cheek. Whispering, “Your ideas are never good,” she gave him the open mouthed kiss he yearned for since school, five years ago. He almost fainted.
Here, Hector couldn’t care less of what she thought of his ideas.
The demonstration that two antithetical ideas can be conveyed by the same dialogue demonstrate how amorphous dialogue is. The conveyed emotion is what conveys the theme, not necessarily the words. This next example is from my first novel, Saving Grace.
“Well,” Lindsey said, turning around to face Josh, “your despicable wife has an early meeting tomorrow. They’re sending a car for me though, so I don’t have to drive.” “You’re not despicable, baby.” “You used to thi─” “I bet if you look hard in the mirror,” Josh interrupted, keeping his hand on her knee, “that is when you’re not throwing up, you’ll see someone different staring back at you. Something that may have always been inside you Lindsey has taken you over.” He scooted closer. “You’re not a monster, Gee, but you’re becoming an alien to me, and I hate it.” “You don’t value my sacrifice.” Lindsey yelled, knocking his hand away, suddenly, consumed by waves of pain, anger and frustration. “And if you don’t value my sacrifice, you can’t value me,” “Gee,” Josh said, still sitting, rubbing both of his eyes with the palms of both hands. “When I sacrificed my medical career for you, I gained myself in the process. You’ve sacrificed so much for Armstrong, and have gained nothing of value. Help me to fight for you. With you. “Please.” He stood now, arms outstretched. His eyes begged that she enter them. She leaned forward for a moment, but stopped, as the action items for the next work day flooded her mind. She brushed past him, and walked up the steps to do some work before she went to bed.
You are in the midst of it, feeling the emotion generated by the rending attacks each spouse is making, as they fight for each other’s soul. The dialogue tells you what the argument is about, but it’s the language around the dialogue that grabs you. This next example is from Saving Grace as Lindsey’s ophthalmologist, Maureen, tells her that Lindsey is going blind.
When the test was over, they walked back across the office together, Maureen insisting that Lindsey lean on her arm for support. “The blurred vision is from the medicine I used to dilate your pupils,” Maureen said, slowly guiding her back to the chair. “It’ll pass in a few minutes. I’ll stay with you until you’re acuity returns. I hope you don’t have to go back to work.” “No,” Lindsey said, feeling for the back of the chair. “No work today.” “Let’s sit over her,” Maureen said, pointing with her right arm to a small sofa. Lindsey walked over and sat down on the sofa’s edge. Maureen sat beside her. “You are very kind to me,” Lindsey said. It was the first time she’d seen her patient smile. “I want the best for you, even though I can’t help your vision.” Maureen said, opening a new box of Kleenex. “Let’s talk about your RP for a moment. You know that the AD variant you have is the least progressive of all the forms, don’t you.” “But it does get worse?” Lindsey said, learning over, squinting at her. “Yes, it does.” Maureen said. “Try to relax for a moment.” Lindsey leaned back, closing her eyes. “How long will I be able to see?” “Honestly, I don’t know,” Maureen said, shaking her head. “The changes are slow. There’ll be more vision problems in the dark. Over the years, you’ll eventually lose your night vision completely. Your vision during the day will narrow, and seeing out of the corners of your eye will become difficult until, in the end, you’ll have only a narrow cone of central vision.” “How do the tests say I’m doing now?” “Your ERG and visual field tests show me what you know,” Maureen answered. “Some night vision difficulty, but your peripheral vision is fine.” “Knowing’s the easy part,” Lindsey, said, her eyes wet again. “The problem is the…the—“ “Acceptance,” Maureen finished for her, patting Lindsey’s arm. “Accepting makes its worse. And, ultimately, better.” Lindsey looked up with a small smile. “Acceptance is hard to accept,”
The dialogue is blunt, delivering a harsh and unforgiving prognosis, but the emotion pulls you into the warm and embracing scene.
Infusing dialogue with emotion is like converting a black and white portrait to color. Dialogue is cold words. Emotion brings it alive.
