Over the last few days, I’ve tried to watch a movie and two new t.v. series. The scenery was gorgeous in one of them. The plot was musty in the first t.v. series and the story-line hackneyed in the second. I might have persevered if not for one characteristic that they all shared. The dialogue sucked. The characters in Sky spoke as though they were quoting the worst of Jim Morrison’s overblown poetry. The “hippies” in Aquarius used contemporary and fake slang. (I know because I lived in the heart of the ’60’s.) The young musicians in The Get Down, set in the Seventies, either used contemporary African-American slang or sounded as if they’d gone to a posh music academy.
My students often ask about writing dialogue. My strongest suggestion is to go out into the real world and eavesdrop. Pay attention not just to words, but to cadence, rhythm and tone. Get out of your immediate circle of friends. Often contemporaries talk alike. Write in dialogue, exclusively dialogue. Let yourself drift into your characters. Stretch your speech. Watch The Wire, Nurse Jackie or Orange is the New Black. Here’s a prompt to get you started: S/he stared at me. “What are you doing?” Write for thirty minutes. Send us what results.
Here are A.K.A. and The Cipher writing from this prompt:
“The awful daring of a moment’s surrender which an age of prudence
can never retract.
by this, and only this, we have existed.”
The words: “You are not alone.”
Jessie walked closer. “Ho`ailona,” she said, crossing her arms and shivering.
Kimo shook his shaggy head. “Girl, dat not one sign. Ok well, sure it’s a sign but it not one omen or someting. Probably written by some born-again or one a dem cosmic kine folks dat keep comin’ to the islands looking for I don’ know what.”
Jessie traced the letters with her index finger.
“Eh! Don’t do that! It might be radioactive or toxic-like.”Kimo moved closer. “Really cool paint, though. Neva seen nothin’ like dat at Ace Hardware or Lowes.”
The letters phosphoresced in the moonlight. Palm fronds clacked overhead. They sounded like bones. Kimo dragged Jessie away from the wall. “Come on, let’s go home.”
That night, Jesse dreamed of flight. She went to the jumping off point and soared.
The next day, she packed her things. She didn’t leave a note.
Her possessions stuffed in a pack on her back, Jess headed for the leeward side. Before hopping the jitney, she stopped for a moment at the the wall. She kissed the glowing phrase. “Mahalo ke Akua, mahalo kupuna.” * A faint scent of plumeria emanated from the silvery letters.
*”Thank you, God, thank you elders and ancestors” in Hawai`ian. —The Cipher
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