Subtext

One rogue Rouge Waver has asked me the same question twice in comments rather than email me the question directly and the lesson here is both that you kids need to listen to mama and also if you bug me enough, I'll probably answer the question eventually anyway. However, going forward, please, please do not leave questions in comments that require a whole blog post to answer. Email them to me using the handy sidebar above my picture that says MY EMAIL. That way I can find 'em, consider 'em and answer 'em in a timely manner. Questions I love - questions in comments make me crazy. Ahem. Onward.

The rogue Waver says I should talk about subtext. I find this question very silly because almost everything is subtext. The alternative is writing on-the-nose. There is subtext to what I'm writing right now. Can you pick up what I'm laying down? Do you detect an undertone? That's subtext.

Subtext is one of those skills that separate talented writers from inexperienced writers with unconfirmed, nascent would-be-maybe talent. Why? Because if you have to ask, Houston, you are lacking a fundamental skill set when it comes to writing. All right, all right, now I'm being a little snobby. But really. Seriously. Subtext is any writer's stock and trade. If you don't know that - know it now.

Think about the root of the word - sub - and then text. Beneath the text. The meaning beneath the words.

Subtext: Aren't you glad you paid attention in school during "root words are fun"?

In screenwriting, we have different kinds of writing: We have action line writing, which is where that pithy, almost haiku-like, voicey stuff goes - the way you describe things cinematically - and we have dialogue writing. Everything else is the way the story is organized. Notice I've left out the most fundamental ingredient - inventive imagination - but that's not writing, per se. It's how you came up with the idea in the first place and it's how you figure out theme, tone and genre.

Two kinds of writing. Dialogue. Action lines. And both can include subtext.

LLOYD (52) is an insurance adjuster cowboy with the knock-off Rolex to prove it. He moves his tie over the gravy stain on his polyester shirt and leans toward MARVELLE (35), way too pretty to be at this crummy convention:

LLOYD: Hey. Let me know if you didn't get that last part. We could uh, go over it later if you want.

Marvelle shifts her attention from the SEA OF CONVENTIONEERS to Lloyd.

MARVELLE: I'd love to go over it later.

LLOYD: Oh yeah, sure. How about we meet in the bar in 10? I'll sketch it all out. Go over the numbers. Put you ahead of the game.

MARVELLE: Let me go freshen up.

So who's zoomin' who here? There's subtext in the dialogue, there's subtext in the description of Lloyd - and yet all of it rises to the surface to create a situation which could either be funny or horrifying. The subtext in the action lines actually isn't that subtextual: "knock off Rolex," "gravy stain," "polyester shirt" - this paints a picture of Lloyd, yes? Does Marvelle need to freshen up because she's a two dollar hooker scamming conventioneers or because she truly likes Lloyd and she's had a long day? Is this a love story about to play out? Or FATAL ATTRACTION?

In the same way that writing is rewriting, subtext is writing. That's why it's so hard to write and write well. Subtext is the feeling behind the words and the situation. And to get that out of your head and onto paper in a way that I can be entertained by - that's just magic. If you are asking what subtext is - the answer is subtext is what writing is made of.

Again, the alternative is writing on-the-nose. It's the difference between writing a manual and writing real prose. A manual leads me step by step - no imagination, no experience of revelation and discovery is possible. But good writing always includes subtext - it IS subtext. The reader has to piece together what's happening.

Subtext exists in writing because it's a lot like real life. Almost nothing in real life is exactly what it seems. Is that happy couple really happy? Was that a sincere comment? Did your boss really mean to put you on another account for your own good? But subtext also exists in writing because good writing is like life elevated to a higher, more thematic, more symbolic level.

Writers are both pointillists and realists. Portraiture artists and modern artists. We zoom in and out in our writing to create a satisfying web of a story that engages the reader on every level.

If all of this is beginning to sound pretentious or intimidating or confusing simply scroll back up to the mini-story of Lloyd and Marvelle. There's subtext in every bit of that tiny sketch.

Look at your script pages - are you telling us exactly what's going on very clearly? Or are you showing us through gestures, tones and - subtext?

Now, upon occasion, some high falutin' writers who have gone from novel writing to screenwriting forget that in screenwriting there needs to be more clarity and less circular intellectualizing of things. Screenwriting is NOT the bastard stepchild of prose; it is at once much simpler and more complex. It's nuanced but clear. It's cinematic but internal. It is universal, it is personal.

While a novelist can take two pages to explore a character's inner thoughts with nothing else driving the plot in that moment, a screenwriter must marry plot and character development in each scene.

So - what is subtext in screenwriting? Everything. It is the essence of the craft itself.

Now get back to work. And don't leave me questions in the comments section anymore. :)

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Now, Doggone it, Get in Character!

How many Rouge Wavers watched the Palin/Biden debate yesterday evening? I know I was glued to it, admittedly waiting (and hoping) for a Palin gaffe that never happened. But my oh my did Governor Palin crank up her down home, regional accent for effect. She peppered her language not only with soft enunciations like "ya" instead of "you" and all the usual "goin's" and "shoulda's", but also a couple of well placed "doggone it's". The effect was quite calculated - this is a down home, all American, kitchen-table mom that you can relate to. Now, for someone like me, this was an annoying affectation - but for the voters Palin was trying to connect with, it was canny slam dunk. She understands ya. And maybe she won't answer questions the way ya'd like her ta, but Americans are just wantin' straight talk. Dontcha know.

From the linked article above:

Reaction to Palin's speech has been highly varied. Some people dislike it, finding it harsh or grating; others regard it as charming or authentic. These are common responses to a distinctive accent. Depending on the context, such an accent can make a person seem stupid or uneducated or, conversely, honest and folksily trustworthy—often at the same time. Some people exploit this for effect, emphasizing and de-emphasizing dialect features to prompt a particular reaction. Linguists call this code-switching. In this Palin interview with Katie Couric, you can hear her enunciating her -ings and her yous more clearly in responses where she appeared to have a ready answer, and returning to her more natural -in' and ya when she seemed stumped, which suggests that Palin may have been deliberately attempting to minimize her dialect features for that audience.

Yes, this code-switching...Palin does what I call a "Zelig". You know, that great Woody Allen movie about a guy who instantly becomes just like everyone around him at a given moment in order to fit in?

Full disclosure: I am a born and bred Democrat from an educated, East Coast family that doggone moved west but retained a regional loyalty toward everything Boston and a love of literature and discussion. My grandmother attended the Leland Powers School of Elocution in fact, though she could never quite rid herself of her Brahmin Boston accent, i.e., driving the cah to the pahk. For me, while Palin's diction, colloquialisms and overall diction is clearly a result of where she is from, there is an affectation that I find patronizing and which frankly galls me. Do ya know what I'm sayin'?

But moving on my from personal predilections and prejudices re Palin, I thought it an interesting lesson for screenwriters when it comes to dialogue. Palin employed a particular speech pattern for powerful effect: she was in character. Did she come across as warm, folksy and honest? That was the intent.

But to be both fair and realistic, we all have a bit of Zelig in us. How we want to be perceived varies from situation to situation. The way we speak tells others volumes about us. About where we're from, our socio-economic status, our education and our world view. We are all in character.

I know that while I might seem fairly polite on the Rouge Wave, in real life, I use the eff word and a thousand variations of it very liberally when hanging around with my friends. Wouldn't do that around my parents or around someone that I didn't know very well. When I'm around people who are quite educated and who show that in their speech - I'm right there with 'em too. My speech patterns and diction vary by situation. And your does too.

Take a look at your script pages and ask two questions of the dialogue: what affect is your character trying to have in the situation and what dialogue and diction choices have you made for your character in order to establish and reinforce personality?

How do you want your character to come across? What kind of vocabulary and diction do your characters use and to what affect? Oh dear, now I'm getting that paranoid feeling that I'm mixing my affects and my effects up. I probably am. And for every smarty pants Rouge Waver who writes in with the definitions of each and both, here's a preemptive cupcake for you.

The bottom line is that however you felt about the Palin/Biden debate, Palin had a little lesson packed into her speech for us screenwriters. Dialogue defines character.

For more on the debate click HERE.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Dialogue or Less Dialogue - That is the Question

There is quite an interesting conversation going on in the comments section beginning with the noting of dialogue-heavy short scene finalists and traveling all the way to whether dialogue or visuals are more memorable, ergo, important in the cinematic experience.

Here's where I stand:

the dingo got the baby
it's definitely time for Judge Wapner
fasten your seatbelts, it's gonna be a bumpy night
you have no idea
I can't quit you
I'm ready for my close up, Mr. Demille*
I have the feeling I'm not in Kansas anymore
of all the gin joints in all the world...
I want to be alone
you talkin' to me?
you're gonna need a bigger boat
yippy-kiy-yay, motherf*cker
I see dead people
I read the Feminine Mystique! I'm in charge of my own orgasm!
Everybody knows, you never go full retard

...and that's just literally off the top of my head. Yes, cinematic scenes are also memorable, but it's the dialogue that moves the story forward and it's the dialogue that makes us laugh, cringe and identify with the character who said it.

I think that the Rouge Waver who began this discussion in comments is referring to the old trope that ideally, a screenwriter should be able to write a scene with no dialogue so well that dialogue is unnecessary to get the point of the scene across. I think this is of course a great skill and a great exercise, but as another poster said - welcome to the talkies.

Movies are about the human experience. And the importance of dialogue in conveying the truth, the terror, the contradiction and the joy of that is inestimable. Let's turn to the predecessor of movies - drama. Theater predates movies by hundreds of years. Movies are, relatively speaking, still in their infancy as a form of expression and entertainment.

In its earliest form, there were no visuals and certainly no action sequences in theater. Theater was just people on a primitive stage, speaking the truth about pain, joy, loss and what it means to be a human. Sophocles did not write action scenes. Either did Euripides or Aristophanes. Or Arthur Miller for that matter but that's pressing the fast-forward button.

And of course we come to the master playwright - Shakespeare.

Four hundred years later, how often is his dialogue quoted? How many people have heard "out damn spot" without even really knowing which play that came from (MacBeth) or necessarily remembering the dark, stormy, creepy castle that line of dialogue is uttered in? Because the castle is frosting - the sentiment - that guilt cannot be washed away - is powerful and that is memorable. 400 years powerful and memorable.

I think it inarguable that dialogue is the single most compelling and memorable part of most any movie. Because dialogue is spoken by memorable and compelling characters. The supposition that a great scene should or can be written without dialogue (or with minimal dialogue) is, in my opinion, Film School pretention.

I also think that the idea that dialogue is not entirely necessary is also born of the fact that there's so much BAD dialogue out there. Newbie screenwriters tend to write on the nose, expositional dialogue which is blunt, workman-like and uninteresting.

To be fair, let's also point out that movies are not exactly like theater. The cinema is a relatively new human artistic expression which is an extraordinarily powerful marriage of theater, music and visuals. Movies are an artform unlike any other and yet deeply, inextricably indebted to theater.

Really good writers know how to use dialogue sharp as a scalpel, light as a feather and as layered as a rich, creamy Trifle. And they do it so well that dialogue becomes part of our culture. Sometimes for literally hundreds of years to come. Not that "never go full retard" falls under that category. She says with a wink and a tug of her ear.

Now get back to work.



*This quote, from SUNSET BOULEVARD is often misquoted. In fact, the line of dialogue is this: All right Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close up.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

From the Mailbag

Dear Mistress of Coolness -

- Okay you guys were never going to buy that, were you? Fine.-

Dear Wave-inatrix:

I just started reading your web site a few weeks ago and really appreciate it. I'm still working through the coolestfilmsites. I really enjoyed your essay on rhythm (Music in Writing) with your example from David Mamet. While you are on this topic, I'm wondering about the difference between dialogue on the page versus actually being spoken. When I read what I've written, it always sounds great in my head, and also when I read it aloud, but I have a feeling that's like having your mother tell you how talented you are. I'm hoping you can write a few words on this topic. Thanks for your great web site.
-Wondering in Williamsburg

Dear Wondering -

You need a table read, my friend! If you don't have access to my free SAG all volunteer table read, do this - get some of your friends together and have an impromptu table read to see how your dialogue sounds. Choose a pivotal scene and give your friends the upshot of the scene and the script itself. Give each person a quick bio of the character he or she will be reading. Young, old, bitter, excited, upset - whatever. One person needs to be the narrator (the one reading the action lines). That can be you but it might be harder to focus on hearing the how the dialogue sounds and also, hearing how the action lines sound can be illuminating too.

Make sure the friends you ask are hep cats - hep to movies and screenwriting - somewhat. Sometimes even well meaning friends can sound pretty wooden because they are self-conscious. You don't want that. You want people to take it seriously and to go for it. Don't feel bad if your dialogue is not the greatest right now - good dialogue takes time to get a feel for. Bribe some good friends with beer and hotwings and host yourself a table read party. It does wonders.

Oh and thank you for the compliment on the Rouge Wave. The Wave-inatrix, she tries real darn hard to make it a fun place to be. Rock on, Wondering!

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Rear Window

You've heard of Found Objects, right, Wavers? Stuff that you find that has intrinsic artistic or sentimental value? Or that guy - who was that guy - anyway, it was on NPR or something, who gathered notes and lists he found everywhere he went and compiled the notes and lists into a book. Well anyway, so it's summer in Los Angeles, and the Wave-inatrix lives in a neighborhood with beautiful old-growth trees, palm and otherwise, and lined with very grand, old, 1920's apartment buildings.

When it's hot, which it often is, everybody hangs around outside on their front stoops and leaves their windows wide open at night, owing to the heat-keeping nature of stucco circa 1925. The buildings are insulated in a way in which locks in temperature - heat or cold. So there's a little something you give up for the built-ins, hardwood, high ceilings and arched doorways. Oh, Charm, you beguiling temptress of real estate choices!

Upshot: particularly at night - everybody can hear everybody. Music, tv, arguments, laughter. The neighborhood is alive with human interaction. And this is what the Wave-inatrix heard just the other evening:

Susan: But I WANNA read in bed!
Charlie: (incomprehensible)
Susan: So GET a book you like!
Charlie: (incomprehensible)
Susan: But I LIKE reading in bed!
Charlie: (incomprehensible)
Susan: But it’s not FAIR!
Charlie: (sharp retort)
Susan: (exclamation)
Charlie: Well, what makes ANYONE happy?
Susan: (whining, fading away)

Writers are thieves - you've heard that expression before, no doubt. The Wave-inatrix lived in San Francisco proper for many, many years. And walking through my neighborhood at night was one of my favorite things to do. All those Victorians, cheek by jowl, in the early evening, before the curtains are pulled to - and all those people inside, laughing, kissing, arguing, stooping to put something away - a silent pantomime of life. What were they talking about? What was going on?

There is one evening in San Francisco that I will never forget. I lived in Noe Valley and it was foggy as usual. Maybe 2am or so. When suddenly, out of the moist, foggy blanket of silence, I was awoken to hear a woman begging, in a low moan, for someone to please, stop! She begged and she begged. With silences in-between. Was it some kind of consensual sexual activity? Or was she really being hurt? Her cries rose in intensity and she began to scream and cry. No - whatever it was - it wasn't consensual. Alarmed, I called 911. Where was it coming from, they asked? I stared out the back window at the maze of adjoining gardens, covered with wet vines and nasturtium. The houses were dark. Not one light. I - I don't know, I stammered. The woman screamed again - Please! Please, stop!

Look, Miss, the 911 operator said, we can't help if we don't know where to look. My heart raced. Someone definitely needed help. But where? How could I help her? With an annoyed sigh, the 911 operator said she'd send a squad car to circle the block but if they couldn't find anything, they couldn't very well help, could they? I went back to bed and clutched the blankets to my chest and stared out the window, the lace curtain moving softly in the foggy breeze. The cries continued. Then grew softer. And faded back into the fog. I never knew what happened or who that woman was. But I'll never forget that voice, that begging.

Use the life going on all around you, Wavers, as you seek inspiration for story ideas, bits of dialogue or chemistry and dynamics in relationships. Life is a stage and we are all actors upon it. What is really going on behind closed doors?

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Top Ten Things Readers HATE

Good morning, Wavers. I trust many of you, as usual, are busily thinking of a clever one page scene for the latest competition. There's nothing to lose and a $25 gift certificate to gain. Plus we like to have fun at the Rouge Wave, so, you know, you really gotta give it a whirl. Click HERE for the guidelines and click HERE to submit.

Also: just FYI, I have recently had requests from two production companies and a lit manager for some GREAT scripts. I have already submitted a few this week, from my client base but am definitely looking for great material to get out there. Obviously, I have to read the script first and yeah, that obviously means do some notes on the material, but the reputation of the Script Department has grown to the point where I am getting hit up for good scripts. So. Just put that in your pipe and smoke it. I am looking for anything well written, but also family, tentpole, action, horror and thriller.

So the happy, happy class who took Ten Things Readers HATE over the weekend requested that I repost that list here on the Rouge Wave. Now - you really had to to be there and I can't reprint everything that we discussed in a 90 minute class. But I will reprint the list itself just for fun. This list could have been much longer but this is what we discussed at the Great American Pitch Fest. And remember - because it's the Wave-inatrix - my list actually goes to 11.

Bear in mind that readers are often overworked and underpaid and your script may be the third script they read that day. So they're a little cranky, a little jaded and they really want to go to bed. But no. Your script is staring at them and they gotta get through it quickly so they can turn in the coverage that night so tomorrow they can go pick up six more scripts from another production company a long, smoggy drive away. So I've set the scene, right?

Top Ten Things Readers HATE:

#11 A script over 120 pages.

Reader thinks: Please kill me now. The writer doesn't have a good grasp of structure and tight story telling. Great. Just great.

#10 The writer sent weird shit in the mail with the script.

Reader thinks: Oh god. A rank amateur. Some kind of nut. What is this map/sketch/doll/polaroid/music and how fast can I toss it to the floor so I can just read the script already?

#9 Boring, derivative scripts in which nothing happens.

Reader thinks: Wtf? Where's the conflict? What is the bloody point here? I hate this writer! Why can't he or she just tell me a story already! I'm hungry. Maybe there's something in the fridge. Maybe I should throw some laundry in. But I have to get this script done and - I hate this writer!

#8 Wonky Tone or Genre

Reader thinks: Wait - I cannot draw a bead on this. It's funny, it's graphic, it's scary, it's got characters with more personalities than Sybil. I can't sum this up, I can't follow where it's going. There's no cohesion. I'm gonna PASS this writer so fast his head's gonna spin. Gd it.

#7 Bad, Confusing Sluglines

Reader thinks: My eyes! The humanity! These pages are cluttered and overslugged. Too many details in the slugs! Or - completely generic slugs - ext. house - day - oh come ON!

#6 Gratuitous, Shocking Sex or Violence

Reader thinks: Really? Am I supposed to be impressed or shaken by this? You're dealing with the wrong reader, pal. If it's not in keeping with the tone and narrative, if it's just there to pop wheelies and tell me way more than I ever wanted to know about your sexual fantasies or urge to scoop out eyeballs with a melon baller, then color me NOT impressed.

#5 On the Nose Dialogue

Reader thinks: Talk about an urge for violence - what do you think I am, stupid? This dialogue is patronizing, dull and amateur. But hey - this is going to be a fast read and an easy PASS. Bring it.

#4 Dense Action Lines

Reader thinks: Like I'm going to wade through this crap. I'm just trying to synopsize this quickly and efficiently. And this is killing my eyes, slowing down the read and adding exponentially to my already cranky mood.

#3 No Structure: the BOSH script

Reader thinks: Nothing is moving this story forward, it just goes and goes and goes. It's a BOSH script! (bunch of shit happens).

#2 Lame Characters

Reader thinks: These characters sound, act and look like robots. If there was one thing that might have gotten me into this story, it would have been characters I give a damn about. But no. Is this writer serious? Does he or she read this dialogue outloud? People don't act this way. These are types! Oh! I'm so cranky!!

#1 Typos and malaprops

Reader thinks: Oh come ON. Seriously? One or three is one thing but now I'm beginning to feel personally insulted. Proofread! Is it that hard? Do you want to be taken seriously??

Now, Wavers know that there is a remedy to every single one of these items. And if you are new to the Rouge Wave, look at the Browse by Topic and click on corresponding subject labels to read up on how to do a better job and improve your craft. Mostly, just do the opposite of each point made here. But of course, there's a lot more to it than that.

The larger point of the class is that you have to imagine yourself in the reader's shoes. And during the class, cruelly, that's just what I did, by passing out the first ten pages of a script that somehow managed to accomplish everything on this list save number 10 and that's just because I didn't bother to bring the map of the castle to the class. I gave everyone four minutes to read the pages (about how long a reader would spend, give or take) and asked that they circle those things that are slowing down the read for them. It was painful to watch, and I'm sorry, but it was effective, no?

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Rouge Wave Pinch Hitter

Hello Wavers. My good friend Bob Schultz of The Great American Pitch Fest is filling in for the Wave-inatrix today so we can keep good content on the Rouge Wave while I recover from and deal with my family emergency. God bless his cotton socks. So, here's Bob -


(WARNING: The following contains possible spoilers for “There Will Be Blood.” If you haven’t seen it yet, what are you waiting for? Go! Now! We’ll wait.)

It’s my choice for the best film of 2007, but Paul Thomas Anderson’s “There Will Be Blood” has only made around $31 million at the box office, far from a blockbuster. Yet somehow, the dialogue from Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) to poor, devastated Eli (Paul Dano) at the end of the movie has launched itself into the zeitgeist. T-shirts, websites, articles, and blogs have all been created to pay tribute to this line:

DANIEL PLAINVIEW
I drink your milkshake.

On the page, it doesn’t look like much. Taken on its own, who among us would rank it on the same level as “Live long and prosper,” or “Here’s looking at you, Kid,” or “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night?” Who among us at The Script Department would have given note on this script, seen this line, and written, “Amazing. This is going to blow up all over the place!”?

And yet it has.

On Super Tuesday, political supporters of all stripes were electrified, advocating for their candidates, getting out the word, pounding the pavement to get out the vote. As clichéd as it sounds, this was America at its best. Millions of people, proud believers of what they could accomplish, focusing on potentially the most important and historic time of their lives.

As the results started to roll in, with Senator Barack Obama winning and winning and winning again, an electric charge crackled through the hotel bar where I was watching results come in. The crowd kept getting louder and louder, more excited to hear about the latest upset victory. Then, from a horseshoe booth at the back of the room, lubricated by several beers, a man’s baritone boomed out:

“I drink your delegates, Hillary!” After a long sluuurping noise, he belted out, “I drink them up!”

The whole room – old, young, Republican, Democrat, you name it – burst out laughing, despite the fair (but not amazing) box office numbers.

Had I written that script, that moment would have been the zenith in my career. Regardless of box office success, overhearing my own dialogue quoted by a stranger would be the ultimate measuring stick of my success: My words affected people to such a degree that they spread into parts of the culture unrelated to my movie. In essence, like Plainview’s straw, Paul Thomas Anderson’s words reached all the way across the room and took over. DRAINAGE!

How about you? Would you be satisfied with modest success from the perspective of audience size, if it meant a place in the national lexicon? Would you be willing to trade the dream of box office treasure for a place in etymological history?

Bob Schultz is a screenwriter, and Executive Director of The Great American Pitchfest. Click hereto learn more about the Pitchfest or email Bob.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Rejoinder: Dialogue SHOULD be that good

Rouge Waver LaFemmeAnkita offered a fantastic, informed rejoinder to my Rouge Wave post about annoyingly good dialogue on her blog. Check it out, it's a great read and she makes wonderful points. I love a good rejoinder.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Can Dialogue be TOO Good?

I was listening to a review of JUNO on NPR and one of the commentators said something interesting. She said that the dialogue in JUNO was so hip and witty that it felt inorganic, like a writer’s conceit of a character – not a real character. The commentator went on to give the movie a great review but her comment on overly-witty, self-conscious dialogue was first and foremost. Having just seen JUNO, I would have to agree, sort of. But the movie is so crazy-fabulous that Ellen Page’s impossibly amazing performance as a sixteen-year old with the vocabulary and thought-processes of a thirty year old wins a viewer over as the conceit of this movie. But I digress.

My daughter used to watch The Gilmore Girls. And that show drove me nuts for the same reason. Amy Sherman-Palladino is a gifted woman, there’s no doubt about that, and the show definitely took a turn for the worse when she moved on from the show – but during her tenure, I often cringed at the dialogue. Not because it was bad – it was so good – uber good, creepy good, resentfulness-inducing good – because nobody can be that witty all the damn time!

In The Gilmore Girls, every character was super witty and smart – all the bloody time. And worse – ultimately every character had the same voice – presumably, Palladino’s. So there was a grating sameness to the dialogue in the show and worse, a gratingly high level of witty! sharp! clever! Dialogue. In every. Damn. Scene. At least JUNO was limited to one story. Not thirty episodes a year for seven damn years. I may have those numbers wrong – but I don’t care! Self-conscious dialogue in which the character is clearly the writer’s alter-ego is grating.

When you watch a movie or a television show and literally every cast member is cooler and smarter than you – if they never stumble over their words, if they don’t say the wrong thing or the less-than-brilliant thing – it can distance a viewer from the material.

An extreme example of idiosyncratic dialogue strongly reflective of the writer’s voice is of course David Mamet’s dialogue. His trademark is herky-jerky, hiccupy dialogue. And when you watch a Mamet movie you just settle in for that experience because that’s the way it is and that’s what you signed up for and there you go. But that’s David Mamet. And surely – Palladino was quite successful so in a sense, my argument becomes just a personal rant. Or does it? Can dialogue be too good? Inorganically good?

If you are writing stylized dialogue as an affection of your story, as literally part of the delivery system, I give my stamp of approval – that’s very clever. But if you really want the story to be front and center, remember to watch out for dialogue that is too self-conscious.

Listen to how actual people talk, the next time you’re out. The silences in-between the words can mean more than the words themselves. Or sometimes the words can weigh a ton. This, overheard from a Wave-inatrix neighbor just the other day: Let’s have brunch at that place, remember that place? Yeah. And it’s in the ‘hood so it will be funny!

The Wave-inatrix was agape. What did it mean? These are nice neighbors. Gak.

Bad dialogue speaks for itself. (Ha). It is monochromatic, bland, on-the-nose and stilted. All the characters sound the same – like the writer, more or less. Characters sound either totally homogeneous or like stereotypes. There is no nuance or subtext to what they say.

Good dialogue is snappy, real-sounding, organic and specific to each character.

Great dialogue is all of the above and reveals everything you’ll ever need to know about that character; their world view, prejudices, social class and belief system. It will be idiosyncratic but imperfect. They won’t always say the right thing. And sometimes characters are silent.

In 3:10 to YUMA which was hands down one of my two favorite movies of 2007 (the other being JUNO so go figure) Christian Bale whispers one of the most memorable pieces of dialogue I have ever heard in my life. And he’s upset and he’s scared and what he says is so utterly courageous and heartbreaking at the same time that the scene moved me to tears.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Semantics is a Bitch

I'm no Betty Friedan or Germaine Greer but I feel I owe powerful, intelligent women a debt. Women like the aforementioned. Women like Susan Sontag, Madame Curie, George Sand, Susan B. Anthony, Madonna, Oprah Winfrey, Naomi Wolf, Hilary Clinton, Helen Keller - oh I must stop now because I'll offend someone, somehow with an inclusion or exclusion but you get my drift. In a world where the bodies of 40 women were recently found on the outskirts of Baghdad, in a ditch, with notes on their mutilated bodies explaining that they met their deaths for not wearing proper headscarves, powerful, influential trailblazers who just happen to be women pave the way for a better world.

When I was a kid, a bitch was a nasty, unpleasant woman. It was a pretty dirty word. It was also a female dog and that was the only way we kids could attempt snickering subterfuge. But today bitch has taken on a hyper ugly meaning of subjugation. Men can be bitches. Anyone can be a byotch, the ha-ha internet-censorship-free version of bitch which has taken on a life of its own.

I hear the word bitch used almost daily by Jon Stewart, by friends, by my daughter to her friends, on the radio - seemingly everywhere. One of my friends said it to me the other day on the phone and we both laughed an uneasy laugh before it trailed off into discomfort. I wonder - how have we come to this? How have we come to tolerate a word that could not possibly embody a deeper, uglier belief about the way in which women are esteemed in this world? We can have women senators and judges and television anchors but at the end of the day, in jest which burns in acidic truth - they're just bitches and Jennifer Love Hewitt, all (I'm guessing) a hundred eighteen pounds of her - has a fat ass.

Bitch is a lose-lose word. To call a man a bitch is to say he is being either snippy, needy or hysterical OR that the bitch label recipient is in some way owned by the speaker in the most final, definitive way possible. She's my bitch. Where's my beer - bitch? I slapped that bitch. That's what I said - bitch.

The use of bitch with this new, more keen, deeply misogynistic twist of total subjugation seems to have emerged from rap music. Nobody shoot me - that's just my anecdotal observation. And no, it's not pc. The Wave-inatrix, with her playful moniker which connotes domination knows that Rouge Wavers are smart enough to know that this is playful nickname that stuck and bears no relationship to my views or demeanor. So no pot calling kettle black comments about hair-splitting semantics, please. This discussion is important.

Regardless of the derivation of this new usage, I do wonder - is this okay, this new use of bitch? What does it say about us as a society? Do we accept a word as a joke but overlook it's deeper meaning because that's being over-analytical? Or is this something we should be paying attention to?

To paraphrase George Orwell, who understood deeply that language matters, it is my opinion that the use of the word bitch is double-plus ungood.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Don't Throw it Away

One would think that a "throw away" is a small joke or just a line of dialogue that is completely disposable. But nothing in your script should be disposable. Every word is there for a reason. Every. Word. Does your character crack a little joke on their way out the door? Then make it funny, make it memorable and make it matter. What do I mean by make it matter? Make it connect to the DNA of your script - the theme.

Learn to recognize a throw away and learn to walk away from them without emotion. Soon, as your experience as a writer grows, you'll learn the difference between a sly witticism, a clever remark or pithily profound statement that is deeply connected to the theme of your story - and a fluffy throw away that may or may not be funny or meaningful whatsoever. If you swatted a fly over that line of dialogue, unless it was BRAZIL, would it matter?

Check out these movie bon mots - do you recognize their source? Sure you do. Because they are memorable.

...we're gonna need a bigger boat.

...I'll have what she's having.

...I've been slimed.

....Here's Johnny!

....the shoe! the shoe!

...well, snap out of it!

...I like to watch.

...Attica! Attica!

The first Rouge Waver to identify the source of all eight examples wins a free cupcake. I really mean it this time. You have to live in LA and you have to take me with you but we'll go have a cupcake and come up with some sugar-induced zingers.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader? Great.

By Andrew Zinnes

Irascible. It’s a great word. Easily provoked to anger. Testy. Touchy. Short-tempered. I can get down with irascible for as I mentioned in my The Waiting is the Hardest Part blog, I’m an Aries and patience, well, that virtue never made it to my brain.

Irascible. It’s what my uncle would’ve called a $20 word. As in “that word cost $20 of your education!” It’s a big word; a word that someone who knows words would use. Someone like a writer.

I’m only getting on this soapbox because I just put down a screenplay that had so many $20 words in it I thought it was either the author trying to show us how smart he is or reminding us of sure fire winners in Scrabble. My guess is that it was the former. Irascible was the one that stuck out the most to me because that’s how I felt after I read it.

But here’s the problem – humans rarely use a word like that in everyday speech. In fact, if you listen to a normal conversation between two people most of the words would either be one or two syllables in length. It is only when we are being expository like giving directions or discussing something incredibly specific that we start to crank out the dictionary and thesaurus. And since the best dialogue sounds as if it is coming from a live human being, the words that your characters should use should mostly contain one and two syllable words. It’s been said that most screenplays are written on a 5th grade reading level and this is exactly why.

Now you can throw a big word in there every now and again, but as in real life, when someone goes for the $20 word, those listening remark on it in some way. For example, take THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION. There is a moment when Andy DuFresne learns that there is evidence that supports his innocence claim and he tells the warden about it. The warder shines him on stating there’s no point in checking – it’s a waste of time. Andy calls the warden “obtuse” and gets thrown in the hole for two months to think about his impertinence. At the halfway point of his sentence, the warden comes into the hole to tell Andy that his young protégé has been killed and that the scams will continue or else Andy will have all his privileges revoked. “Are you getting my drift? Or am I being obtuse?” the warden smugly replies. He’s thrown the big word back in Andy’s face because he wants him to know he’s just as smart as Mr. Dufrense – and it works brilliantly.

Please remember, I am not advocating dumbing down your screenplay in terms of plot or character development. I am merely saying that much can be done to convey intelligence through the reality of who we are.

All of this reminds me of the best exercise I ever had in film school. We were told to go to a local café and eavesdrop on others’ conversations. You learn tons about vocabulary, slang, intonation and subtext doing that. You also learn how freaky people are - including yourself. Try it, but don’t get sanctimonious or pietistic doing it.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Hey!

Has anybody else noticed that over the past few years, “hey” has become the new “hello” or "hi"?

Think about it. When was the last time you said “hello”? Maybe when you answer the phone? Do you say “hi”? Or “hello”? How about “howdy?” Or are you a “hey”-er?

The way we speak to each other changes all the time. Remember when you said “groovy” and it wasn’t retro to say it? If you can’t remember, you’re just too durn young. How about “rad”? or “wicked”? Or “dope”?

Start paying attention to the language used all around you every day. How you greet and are greeted. Do you say “good night” to your beloved or do you simply say “’night”?

How do your characters greet each other? Do they use a greeting at all or launch into a tirade?

Hello, good morning, how are you? Good evening, good afternoon, pleased to meet you?

How about goodbye? Later, goodbye, bye, see ya, until we meet again?

The Wave-inatrix has noticed a new trend and that is that when one wishes to acknowledge that something is self evident, one says “I know, right?” I hear it constantly and yes, I have begun to say it myself.

Slang, colloquialisms, dialects and speech patterns can be trendy and/or tied to current events. William Safire writes a wonderful weekly column in the New York Times Magazine on this very topic.

Be aware of your speech patterns – hey versus hello, ‘night versus goodnight, cool versus dope, etc. These word choices that you make are dependent upon a lot of things: how old you are, where you are from, the fact that it is 2007, and the situation you are in. For example, you probably won’t say “hey” to your grandmother. The Stanford educated lawyer you just hired, even though he’s all of 26, probably doesn’t say “wow, that’s so dope that the client settled!” – it would be situationally inappropriate.

How about f*ck yeah! Versus heck yeah! Depends on who is in the room when you make that choice, doesn’t it? And can you picture a 38 year old RN and mother of two saying that? Maybe. That would make her pretty interesting, wouldn’t it?

So when you write dialogue for your characters, take the same types of things into consideration:

Age
Gender
Provenance
Education
Time period
Situation

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Another Great Question

Our very own Rouge Waver of the Month, Geena writes:

...of the five areas Premise, Structure, Storyline, Character, Dialogue, which do you think is the biggest shortcoming for a new screenwriter? I'll guess and say storyline - structure. I think most of us come up with a decent ideas, then fail getting substance and flow to our stories.

Actually, Geena, total newbie writers tend to fall down in both areas and primarily in premise. Most new writers do not have the tools to test whether their premise is unique, original, compelling entertainment. Well - let me rephrase that - they either don't have the tools to test the premise or they just can't imagine that their idea would NOT be entertaining to someone else. So you get these self-referential, navel-gazing stories about coming of age or partying or the girl who falls for the rock star.

Most premises from new writers are too small and too "soft". Remember, last week when I included two "vague dramas" in what I had read that week? I see TONS of those. Just sort of soft, vague stories with few exciting or memorable moments because the whole idea is just not that compelling. It's not enough to sustain a three-act feature film. Writers get an idea that is actually more a situation than a premise which suggests enough entertaining conflict to draw out over 100+ pages. And it follows that if your premise is weak, no structure in the world can save it.

Geena had another question:

...also I come across mixed comments on dialogue. The keep it four lines max [rule]. But then folks who want the whole grammatical sentence in there, like " I am never going to return to that cave again", and I get jumped for this "Not going back --" as being on the nose.

I've never heard specifically to limit dialogue to four lines but yes, you do want to avoid big chunks of dialogue. It gets tedious to read, it loses that kinetic quality of the cinema and it can also be an exposition trap for the writer. As for full, grammatical sentences - that sounds crazy to me. The character should speak in the way that is totally natural and organic for them! Just bear in mind that writers, especially screenwriters, are always looking for the perfect mixture of economy and impact - whether that's in dialogue, action lines or anywhere else.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Emphasizing Words

Should you underline, italicize or all-cap words for emphasis within dialogue?

Sparingly, sure. A reader is not going to have a fit if you underline or italicize a word to place emphasis on it. And sometimes, it’s hard to avoid. Writers know that focusing on a particular word in a sentence can change the meaning entirely.

Harriet: Marcus, it’s time that you knew, this is not your child!

She holds out a freakish creature, wrapped in a blanket.

***

Harriet: Marcus, it’s time you that knew, this is not your child!

She beckons Marcus’ brother Cedrick to step forward.

***

Harriet: Marcus, it’s time you know, this is not your child!

She points to the baby in the stroller nearby.

***

We have talked before about ALL-CAPPING words for emphasis and we know that can be very effective in action lines. But in dialogue, use an all-cap emphasis extremely rarely. Here is an example with no emphasis, an italicized word and an all-cap. Each one has a slightly different intonation.

Lawrence: Deirdre, I am on fire tonight!

Lawrence: Deirdre, I am on fire tonight!

Lawrence: Deirdre, I am on FIRE tonight!

Place emphasis on words in your dialogue is all right here and there. Sparingly. It is not absolutely verboten, which is the misconception most writers labor under. But do take it easy. Don’t lean on it. Write your scenes with such clarity of context that there would never be a doubt as to whether Lawrence is aflame and in need of medical attention or whether he was aflame with desire.

Words are like musical notes, we use hyphens, ellipses, italics, underlines or all-caps to direct the eye and the attention to where we want it. Used sparingly, it’s no problem for a reader. It just might help you make your point in a funnier, scarier or more urgent way.

Over use of any of these condiments will absolutely mark you as an amateur though. Do not use more than one per page for dialogue and no more than two or three per page in your action lines. That's not a hard-and-fast rule, there is no Reader Issue Word Emphasis-o-Meter, but writers, particularly less experienced ones, should be quite judicious with this.

I recently read a script by a very good writer who had a PEASANT CLANG a large BELL loudly THREE TIMES until the SOLDIERS arrived along with the GENERAL and just as he arrived a SPEAR hit the dirt in front of him, all turned and the WARRIOR KING stood PROUDLY.

Lemme tell ya - it's exhausting and it makes you look like you're shouting. And as a reader, all I am seeing is the all-capped words. It's like playing Wheel of Fortune instead of staying with the action.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

How to Indicate Another Language

What if you have a character who speaks another language entirely? Do you need to indicate that every time they speak, subtitles will be necessary? Well, yes. Sort of. How you indicate this is key, however.

I have seen writers do this:

Howard and Rolfe punt across the river. Rolfe speaks Russian.

Rolfe: (In Russian)
I am allergic to water. I can’t find that in my phrase book.

Howard speaks English.

Howard (In English)
Jolly good! We’ll row for five more kilometers!

Rolfe speaks Russian.

Rolfe (In Russian)
I’m beginning to regret this vacation.

All right. Not only have you annoyed your reader mightily very quickly (and imagine, Rouge Wavers, this method of indicating Rolfe's language extending the length of a script) you are also being redundant and using up precious space. This is not the way to indicate that Rolfe speaks Russian. Also, if your script is being considered here in the US, it’s a given that it’s written in English and that all characters speak English. So you don’t need to indicate that Howard speaks English – of course he does. But we do have the problem of Rolfe.

Here’s how you approach that. The very first time we meet Rolfe, describe him as you normally would a new character but note that he speaks a different language.

ROLFE, (20) muscular with Slavic features and a Faberge egg tattoo on his right forearm, speaks only Russian.

Rolfe: (in Russian) I miss my homeland.

Howard: You want to go rowing?

BUT what if Howard is English but speaks and understands Russian? Well, that’s simple. You can do one of two things:

Rolfe: (in Russian) I have a great fear of drowning.

Howard: No worries, dear boy. I’m a certified punter. I’ve never lost a tourist yet.

You see? It's clear that Howard understood Rolfe judging by his answer.
Here's another way:

Rolfe: (in Russian) You don’t understand – I have nightmares about Virginia Woolfe!

Howard: (in Russian) Yes, well, she was right daft.

Rolfe: (in Russian) Are you saying I’m crazy?

Howard: I don’t get paid enough for this.

Rolfe: (in Russian) What?

Howard: (in Russian) I said it’s almost tea time, don’t you think?

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

(V.O.) and (O.S.) in Dialogue

(O.S.) indicates that the dialogue of that particular character is heard while the character is nearby but not on camera. In a different room, behind the door, in the closet –whatever. So that you might have:

*****

FRANCIS (28), thinning hair and a potbelly, sits at the chipped kitchen table eating a plateful of something burnt. The radio plays Vince Gil in the background.

Francis: Damn, burnt pork-n-beans again!

Sue-Ellen (O.S.) I heard that!

SUE-ELLEN (32) corpulent and angry enters the kitchen with the remote in hand.

Sue-Ellen: Maybe if you didn’t work at the Dairy Queen we could afford better!

Dad (O.S.) Told you to keep your mouth shut, son!

Sue-Ellen: And I’m so tired of your dad living here! You said it would be one week! That was six years ago!

Dad (O.S.) Bring me a beer when you come back, Sue-Ellen.

Sue-Ellen looks over her shoulder toward the living room.

Sue-Ellen: So help me god I’m gonna kill him one day. When you’re done listening to your radio, go to the cellar and bring me up some dessert.

*****

Or you might do something like:

*****

Francis peers into a dark corner of the cellar when –

Man (O.S.) I’ve been waiting for you.

Francis whirls around and there he is – the Creamsicle Killer!

In that last example, the man was in the same room – but he wasn’t on camera. Using (O.S.) is fun; it can be used in a moment like the one above to scare or surprise the character and it can be used for comic effect as well. But do remember that technically it simply means the character can be heard but not seen. But they are in the vicinity.

(V.O.)

(V.O.) literally means “voice-over” which indicates that the voice of a character is heard and the character is not only not on camera, they are not anywhere around. Well, they might be on camera, silently doing something and you might hear their own voice-over ….Let’s clarify with a few examples:

*****

Francis climbs down the cellar stairs slowly.

Francis (V.O.) In retrospect, I shouldn’t have gone down those stairs. For it was there in the cellar, that I was to meet my greatest fear. I mean - aside from Sue-Ellen.

Francis peers into a dark corner of the cellar when –

Man (O.S.) I’ve been waiting for you.

Francis turns chalk-white and stumbles backward a step -

Francis (V.O.) Suddenly, I no longer cared about Sue-Ellen, or my job at Dairy Queen or anything at all. For I knew that I had a bonafide killer right before my eyes. All I hadda do was talk him into leaving me alone and going upstairs. Then all my problems would be over.

Francis: I got beer up in the kitchen? You want one?

*****

Now, there are those who get all pink-faced and hysterical when it comes to discussing using that kind of voice-over. Spittle flies and they shake all over. Don’t do it! It’s expositional! It’s one of the first things a reader or exec will PASS! Rouge Wavers, in my experience, having read hundreds of scripts both by complete novices and much more experienced writers, I have yet to see a gross violation of expositional voice-over. Obviously avoid telling your whole story that way. Use voice-over judiciously, use it to achieve an effect but don’t get all hysterically pedantic about not using it either. It is the opinion of the Wave-inatrix that those aspiring screenwriters with major don’t-use-voice-over issues need to find a hobby like knitting or perhaps scuba diving.

But. (V.O.) is used in many other instances. Again, remember (O.S.) means the character is unseen but nearby. (V.O.) unless we’re using the example above, means the character is nowhere around but we can hear their voice. So we might have:

*****

Bob drives down a long, dark country road. He turns up the radio.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Yep, that’s right folks, the Creamsicle Killer was spotted at the Dairy Queen just yesterday so watch your tootsies.

Click. Bob turns off the radio and grins.

Bob: (to himself) And that was a damn fine burger, too.

*****

Oh – got a wrylie in there, or more properly, a parenthetical – but we’ve covered that.

All right, so the radio announcer was a (V.O.) because we’re hearing him but not seeing him. What if we see him too? Well, then he’s not (V.O.) anymore, is he?

*****

Bob drives down a long, dark country road. He turns up the radio.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Yep, that’s right folks, the Creamsicle Killer was spotted at the Dairy Queen just yesterday so watch your tootsies.

Click. Bob turns off the radio and grins.

Bob: (to himself) And that was a damn fine burger, too.

INT. RADIO STATION – SIMULTANEOUS

The RADIO ANNOUNCER takes off his headphones and rubs his forehead.

Radio Announcer: Hope to god they catch that monster.

The phone rings. He picks up.

Radio Announcer: KFRK. What can I do you for?

Man (V.O.) It is I. The Creamsicle Killer.

*****

See? The caller is (V.O.) because – why? – Right, because we can hear him but he’s not on camera.

Now, some fancy pants screenwriters like to use (FILTERED) rather than (V.O.) in these particular instances of phone calls. (FILTERED) sort of emulates or indicates the way a person sounds on the phone – sort of distant and – well, filtered, I guess. Does this work? Is it acceptable? Yes, perfectly. But only for phone calls. And do not combine it with (V.O.) because to indicate both is redundant.

Another (V.O.) instance might be something like:

*****

Bob parks his Oldsmobile and creeps through a cellar window. Safety at last. He finds a dark corner. Ah - a freezer. He opens it. And it's full of Creamsicles.

Radio Announcer (V.O.) So I recommend that folks lock their cellar windows and put away their Creamsicles tonight.

UPSTAIRS

Francis clicks off the radio and turns toward the living room.

Francis: Anyone else feel like a creamsicle?

Sue-Ellen: (O.S.) I told you to get those at the beginning of this blog you idiot! America’s Funniest Home Video’s is comin’ on so hurry!

Francis scoots his chair back and heads for the cellar.

*****

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

On the Nose

What does on the nose mean, actually? Well, it means the dialogue was so straight forward, so to the point that it didn’t sound organic or natural. This is a dialogue-related note, and sometimes it can be related to descriptions as well. It’s when the writer has made too much overt effort for us to get something.

How can you avoid it? Well, here’s a little trick that I find really helpful in the early stages of writing a scene. Particularly a scene I might be having some trouble with. If great dialogue flows from you easily and naturally – then great. But if you’re struggling, give this trick a shot.

Write the dialogue as absolutely on the nose as you can:

Jane: I hate you and I want to get divorced.
Ken: I am shocked and hurt.

Go through the whole scene and just get the intention down on the page. The intention of the characters, their rudimentary understanding and reactions are all you’re going for. Now once you’ve got the scene written in this way, go back and bearing your characters in mind, soften it a bit. So it might be something more like:

Jane: I need my freedom.
Ken: But I love you!

And later, that might morph into something more character-driven and specific.

Jane: I can’t believe you waited up for me.
Ken: You said you’d be home at ten. Where were you?
Jane: Maybe you should sit down.

Or whatever – it depends on the characters. So I’ve given you one trick to work from on the nose dialogue up to more organic fare by simply embracing the on-the-noseness initially.

Here’s something my writing partner and I sometimes do:

Jane: I can’t believe you waited up for me.
Ken: I have no idea what to say, you figure it out. I’m sick of this script today and –
Jane: Ken, you seriously need help.
Ken: But we’ve been working on this script all week and I need a scotch and soda.

But that’s a whole other post.

How do you know whether the dialogue in the script you’re about to send into a competition contains OTN dialogue? Well, first of all, go back through your script and examine each scene and the intentions, motivations and goals in the scene for each character. What does the character want in the scene? And how do they ask for it? What are they avoiding, pressing for or hinting at? Are these things literally contained in the dialogue? Overtly?

Think about this: the thing is never the thing. What in the heck does that mean? Well, it means that people usually relate and interact on at least a couple of levels. Pointing out someone’s tattoo might really be saying “I think you’re sexy.” Difficult conversations are particularly apt to be a bit subtextual, unless out-and-out rage has taken over. But characters and people often try to circumvent the hurt and anger – or surprise and joy – that is bound to erupt. People will often talk about just about anything but the actual issue at hand.

Check your scenes for the purpose of the scene and the goals of the character. Now ask yourself, how overtly is the character expressing that goal? Sometimes overt is good – absolutely – but if it feels wooden, too pointed or too ham-fisted, then you’ve probably got some otn dialogue.

What's the difference between on the nose dialogue and crisp, to the point dialogue? The difference is one of degree; on the nose dialogue is clunky, clumsy and so obvious as to almost feel patronizing. The funny thing about otn dialogue is that it’s like porn: you know it when you see it. Sometimes characters need to be very direct in conversation; other times you need to pull back a little bit. Dialogue should have the cadence of a symphony; melodious and complex layers, soft moments, intense moments and a rhythm. The Wave-inatrix recommends reading great dialogue as a pleasure, a pastime and a lesson.

Some recommendations of script reads with amazing dialogue:
ORDINARY PEOPLE
AMERICAN BEAUTY
TOOTSIE
THE CIDER HOUSE RULES

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.

Writing Dialogue

Bird: Caw, caw, caw. Etc.

That scintillating reproduction of a crow was in a script I recently read. The character was a bird. Not a central bird, just, you know, some bird in the vicinity. That knew how to say “etcetera”. That is one talented crow. Of course his cousin Vinny can say “ex post facto”.

Well written dialogue is a stealth weapon for a writer. It doesn’t draw attention to itself, it just is. The reader moves down the page, following the story with ease. Subliminally, we find ourselves becoming more and more invested in the character. We laugh when they say something particularly clever. Our throats get tight when they say something painful or poignant. We turn the page. What happens next? We find ourselves liking this writer on a subconscious level because the characters sound honest and real.

On the flip side, nothing says amateur as fast as bad dialogue. And nothing annoys a studio reader faster than an amateur. Because we have to read the script. The whole thing. Because the script has to be synopsized. Bad dialogue is a stand-out element which is hard to suffer through. So when the time comes to write the comments, instead of a simple “pass” with some academic-sounding comments about the plot resolution or lack of conflict, our comments will sound a bit, well – cranky. And you don’t want an executive to read biting comments about why your script sucked.

Bad dialogue can fall under several categories but generally it’s bad for one of two reasons. 1) It’s on the nose or 2) it’s unnatural sounding. Or both. What’s important when writing good dialogue is to remember that dialogue is not real conversation. It is the essence of conversation. In other words, it’s über-real conversation. In reality, most people communicate in a variety of ways when speaking. They can be obsequious, sarcastic, ironic, blunt or entirely elliptical. People don’t usually say what they really mean. The thing is never the thing. A couple can be fighting about a sock left on the floor but really the fight is about something much deeper. Next time you go to a café, listen to the conversations around you. Pay attention to the way people interact at a restaurant. The amount of eye contact, touch, laughter and silence.

Sometimes a writer is anxious to get the point across and will wind up with dialogue that is on-the-nose:

HE: Where were you? Out with my best friend Steve?
SHE: Are you accusing me of cheating?

Rather than something more interesting like:

HE: You’re late.
SHE: I bumped into Steve.
HE: Oh yeah? I thought he was home sick.
SHE: You want some coffee?

Notice in the second example that HE is trying to act pretty casual about his suspicions and SHE is changing the subject. Perhaps even turning her body away. Great way to try to shift the tension in the room. Sometimes it is helpful to read your dialogue out-loud. Does it come out of your mouth naturally? Or does it feel wordy or stiff? Is the dialogue organic to the character? Is your boy sounding like a girl? Is your Southerner sounding an awful lot like they are from your hometown, Milwaukee?

The ability to write great dialogue is a quality that will set you apart as a writer. Good dialogue writers are sought after and respected. The key to becoming better at it is to really perfect your listening skills and as importantly, to get so far inside the head of your character, that it seems as if their words are just coming through your fingers. I know that can sound strange, but most writers will tell you that they know and understand that strange experience. The more time you spend developing your character, the more naturally they will speak in their own, unique voice.

From a reader perspective, if your script is a “pass” because the structure or premise is too soft, that’s a ding against you. But if your dialogue stinks, that is a black mark you won’t soon shake. Every element is important in a script, make no mistake, but poor dialogue is probably the element that most quickly marks you as an inept writer. Even the best writers sometimes have a premise that’s a bit too soft. Or action lines that are a bit too dense. But dialogue is the gold standard. Good dialogue inspires faith in the writer because it is the invisible wind beneath a great character. Readers often skim over action lines, something I mentioned in my last post. We go straight to dialogue lines because this is where the story moves forward most visibly. So write great dialogue. Make it natural, make it specific to the character and don’t forget the silences in-between which reveal so much.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.