Writing saidless dialogue

There are so many "rules" about writing dialogue tags. One you hear most often is to use "said" instead of more colorful verbs. The theory is that the narrative should give the reader an idea of the nature of the speech, of how it's delivered, and that "said" becomes "invisible" and thus lets the dialogue and action do their thing.

In general, I agree with this, although there are times a verb other than said can be better. For me, "said" does tend to disappear. Especially in my own writing, where I hardly ever use dialogue tags.

In my workshop at the Writer's Weekend conference this year, a participant who is also an editor volunteered that she felt that the dialogue tag "said" was, in fact, far from the "invisible" dialogue tag device that many say it is.

It turned out that the manuscript that provoked her comment probably stemmed from it having too many dialogue tags, whether "said" or otherwise. But that got me to take a fresh look at my own work -- was I over-saiding or over-tagging in any way? So I reviewed a work in progress, an older manuscript going through a polish.

As I said, I'm a proponent of avoiding dialogue tags whenever possible. The first 3 manuscript pages are an action scene, and there was hardly a dialogue tag in sight.

For me, examples teach far better than theory does. I could prattle on about the notion of using action beats instead of dialogue tags, and I have before, but seeing them in action (pun intended) may work better for you.

So I offer to you an example of how to do a virtually "saidless, tagless" scene -- there are just 2 tags in 3 pages. This is not intended to be an example of amazing writing, but of dialogue technique. I hope you find it instructive. Here's the scene.

Jake Black stretched in his car seat and imagined the suspect charging out of the four-story apartment house across the street, AK 47 blazing, and then himself returning fire. Anything to break up the boredom -- in his business, drowsy equaled dead.

The cell phone in his pocket vibrated. He flicked it open -- damn, it was his home phone number. When he'd taken Gretchen on as his daughter's nanny, he'd made it clear to never call him on the job. "What?"

Her whisper shook. "She's here."

Impossible. "How?"

"I don't know. The doorbell rang, and there she was."

Dear God. "Does she have Amy?"

Gretchen's voice broke. "I tried to stop her, Mister Black, I tried to stop her."

He started his car. "I'm coming. Call 911 now!" He disconnected, slammed into gear and floored the gas. Driving one-handed, he called the Agency. "This's Jake."

"Kamura. Is he moving?"

"I am. Emergency at home. Get somebody out to cover for me, now. I'm gone."

Jake ended the call. How could Marcie have escaped from the sanitarium? Still locked in postpartum psychosis five years since he'd found her beating their four-month-old daughter, he couldn't even mention Amy's name to Marcie.

As he raced south on Lake Shore Drive, he called Gretchen. "How . . . how is Amy?"

"I'm so frightened, Mr. Black. I tried to grab Amy away, but your wife screamed she would kill her if I came closer. Amy was crying. But I don't . . . I don't hear her any more."

"Stay away from them." He rounded the corner and screeched to a stop in front of his brownstone. The afternoon sun dappled its bricks with the shade of trees lining the street. It couldn't have seemed more peaceful.

He yanked out his gun and raced toward the front door. It swung open before he got to it.

Gretchen pointed. "Upstairs!"

He ran up the stairs and through Amy's bedroom doorway. Toys and books cluttered the floor. Her window stood open; a breeze stirred the chintz curtains. His wife's laugh came from outside. He scrambled through the window and thundered up the iron fire-escape stairs.

On the roof, Marcie, as slender as ever, her long brown hair swirling in the breeze, held Amy over the parapet at the edge. Amy hung like a Raggedy Ann doll, her eyes closed. Marcie laughed as she swung Amy back and forth. Amy's head lolled with the motion. Her crucifix glittered at her neck.

When she'd asked to wear her necklace that morning, he'd said it was just for special days. And Amy had said, "Maybe today is a special day, and we just don't know it yet."

Marcie looked around at the crunch of Jake's steps on the graveled surface. She smiled. "Hi, honey, I'm home."

His heart ached at the madness in her eyes. "Please put Amy down, Marcie."

She frowned. "You like her better than me."

"No, honey, no way. You're the best. Just put her down."

Marcie brightened. "But she won't hurt me any more." She pulled Amy's limp form to her. "I fixed that."

He prayed that Amy was only unconscious. "Lay her down, Marcie, and step away from her."

She scowled at him. "No." She swung Amy back out over the parapet. "We're playing."

He aimed his gun. "Put her down."

She laughed and lifted Amy high and smiled up at her. "Isn't this fun, Sweetie?"

Amy swung inside the parapet, safe from the long fall -- he pulled the trigger. The bullet took Marcie below the ribs. Blood reddened an air conditioning tower behind her, and she staggered.

Marcie screamed at him, "Fuck you." She threw Amy over.

Too late, he pulled the trigger again.

The bullet spun Marcie to face him. Her expression softened. Her eyes cleared, and the woman he loved looked out at him. "I'm so sorry."

She threw herself over the edge.

Jake ran to the edge. Their bodies lay side by side in the alley below. It looked as if they held hands.

His heart locked up.

Comments?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[MaryK]

I can see points in the writing where you could transpose the phrase and use dialogue tags. For example:

"You like her better than me." She said, frowning.

intead of:

She frowned. "You like her better than me."

But for me, I think the who's speaking indicators you use in this piece work better.

[Ray Rhamey]

Thanks for your comment, MaryK.

The editor in me just can't resist saying someting about the alternative you wrote:

"You like her better than me." She said, frowning.

If I came across that in a client's novel, I would point out that the "picture" comes last. Thus the reader, if she were to really get the image and speech you have in mind, would have to backtrack.

But readers don't do that, they keep going.

So, if the aim is to help the reader visualize the character frowning as she says the words, then the frown needs to come first.

If one wanted to use a "said" in this case, it would work better, in my view, as

She frowned and said, "You like her better than me."

For what it's worth,

Ray

[MaryK]

Thank you for your feedback Ray.

[Helen]

That first chunk of dialogue, with its very short sentences, sounds very stacatto in my head. I think I would find it offputting.

[Ray Rhamey]

Thanks, Helen, for the note.

If the whole novel was written that way, I'd totally agree with you. But this scene is meant to be taut, with VERY fast-moving action. In my view, short (even staccato, if you wish) sentences are a good technique for creating a sense of breathless pace.

However, if you've got another way to do that, I'd love to hear it.

Ray

[Amy]

Nice! I was riveted, short though the scene was. Although I think that might just be good writing, and not specifically the lack of dialogue tags. I agree, the "staccato" sentences caught my attention and let me know action was coming.

[Kathy]

Thank you for your comments. I learned a new "trick" today that I followed in my own WIP. (Putting the "picture" before the quote.)

If a writer follows the trend to only use "said," "asked," and few other taglines -- where necessary -- s/he will then have to use adverbs to describe how a character is saying a line.

Personally, I think that the synonyms for "say" are there for a reason: to be used for variety and description.

But I'm in the vast minority, it seems.