Writers in the Storm

by Kris Maze 

Editing a manuscript can be a daunting task, but it becomes easier when using time-tested dialogue suggestions. While I tip-toed through my first chapters, I discovered how to use this handy writers’ multipurpose tool. Slogging through stalled and unproductive scenes, the simple act of allowing my characters to speak had many purposes, and solved my writerly problems. 

With proper use of dialog, I could:

• Keep an active plot moving during slower scenes
• Break up sticky sentences
• Tackle info-dumps
• Intensify the tension
• Incite reader curiosity

Dialogue is an essential part of a well-crafted story, but what does an author include and avoid?

Adding dialogue can move the plot forward and develop the characters, but too many words can bog down your tale. By sprinkling in dialogue, I improved the readability of my manuscript and built confidence in the work I will send to beta readers and editors.

But what are the basic rules to follow? Here are a few resources for editing this important part of fiction.

Keep the Plot Moving

 Sprinkling in dialogue is a spark plug to keeping a reader engaged. The long chunks of backstory and scene description can use the vehicle of dialogue to take the reader along on your literary ride.

Consider whether your story with description (in bold) of a bucolic countryside, complete with rolling hills and picturesque farmsteads, could be enhanced by the characters bringing these details to the reader instead:

              “We’ve been driving for like, forever!” Sam put her foot against the side window as she glanced at fields of spotted cows. “When are going to get there?”

              “You’re being dramatic, Sammie. Someday you’ll appreciate going to Grammie’s farm.” Her dad feathered the brakes when he spotted a deer and its fawn grazing too near the road’s graveled shoulder. “She’s not getting any younger.”

              “Me neither.” Sam slurped the dregs of a Biggie Drink purchased at the last tiny town’s gas station. “I had plans.”

              “I know it’s hard on you, but it’s my weekend with you and I didn’t have to work.” The pickup crossed a one-lane wooden bridge over a babbling brook, bouncing them around the cab. “I’m sorry you’re missing the big gig of your friend’s band. I’m going to make it up to you.”

              “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He dialed the radio to one of two available stations. “See? I’ll let you choose. Classic rock or country.”

              “No, thanks. Listen to what you want, I brought my own.” Sam placed the headphones over her ears and opened her sketchbook. She started to replicate a circled design painted on a faded red barn.

Break up Info-Dumps

For the clunky parts in my chapters, I focused on the long paragraphs that would slow down the reader. These sections of backstory could be delivered better through the voices of my characters.

In the example above, we not only see that we are driving on a country road to Grammie’s house, but we get information about Sam and her dad, too.

We can tell that Dad has part-time custody, and he tries to use their time together in meaningful ways. Sam is a teen and acts with typical indignant behavior, as kids do when they lack control over where they are going and with whom. She likes a certain band and is being forced to skip their concert to visit her relatives. Dad has a sense of humor and jokes about the radio station, which Sam shuts out with her headphones and snarky comments.

We set the stage for a relationship reconciliation for Dad, and a potential coming of age experience for Sam. All through dialogue.

Show Don’t Tell

The writer’s mantra we all love to hate when we see segments of lengthy exposition all over our work. (Just me? Okay. We all start somewhere!)

I found that my areas without conversation were filled with showing the reader what was happening instead of letting the characters' conversation weave the drama.

Showing the reader how the characters feel and revealing their motivations is the most effective use for dialogue. Consider it a shovel when unearthing a tough, rocky passage in your work. 

In the example above, we see how the father is excited about spending time with his daughter and is exercising patience despite her angst. Sam is angry for potentially many reasons: not seeing her friend’s band, having to spend the weekend on a boring farm, her drink is empty, her music choices are limited, and her parents are divorced.

Dialogue can roll down the window and let the reader peek into the world you are creating.

Tags? We don’t need no stinking tags!

I’m pretty sure I ripped that one off from a cheesy comedy, but editors often recommend that writers use their tags sparingly, or *gasp* not at all.

Tags are used to help the reader understand who is speaking, but there are other ways to show this and draw a reader into your story. Try to eliminate the following tempting tags problems common to many writers.

• He said. She said.  - According to online editing software, ProWritingAid, published authors use “said” as a dialog tag 60%, with “asked” at a distant second at 10%. These authors use nonstandard dialogue tags only occasionally. For these reasons, they recommend not using tags other than “said” and “asked” over 20% of the time.
• Adverbs with Dialogue tags - Writers may want to describe how a character says something, but it distracts the reader and takes away from the words they say. Try not to upstage your characters. Using actions instead allows readers to make inferences and imagine more fully developed characters. ProWritingAid suggests that authors keep adverbs to under 12% of their total in one work.
• Use the right words -If you still want to use unique dialog tags and you have over 12%, consider taking a hard look at the content of your conversation. Can you strengthen the wording to convey the emotion instead?
• No laughing matter - According to Writer’s Digest, some common dialog tags shouldn’t be used because they don’t make sense. Words cannot be “smiled, giggled, laughed, or sighed.” Use “said” and save these actions for use as intended.
• Hemming and Hawing - In real life, we pause and add filler to conversation. Eliminate those fillers when writing to keep the reader engaged. Try to avoid phrases such as “um, so, well” that slow down the dialog.

Using fewer tags takes a little practice and critical reading to find examples to model. I am thrilled to say my example above contains exactly zero tags in it. *air high fives for everyone*

Don’t be intimidated by the minutia of punctuation that typically gives me hives, try using dialogue to fix sticky parts of a manuscript.

5 Dialogue Constructions

Here are 5 constructions of dialogue to use in your writing. Experience the following benefits to your dialogue:

• Use these to increase the variety in your writing.
• Write with confidence! Let those curly or straight quotes take a seat to your clever character’s words instead.
• Improve the readability of your work.

I’m using American English Rules to compile this list, but punctuation standards may differ by region and country. Always check with the editor or submission guidelines to see what style, or dictionary they prefer.

My examples below come from The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger, in a scene where Holden is arguing with his roommate:

Dialogue Formatting Demystified:

1. Single Line Quote - These have a line of dialogue within quotation marks and no tag. The sentence punctuation occurs within the quotes.
2. Single Line Quote with Tag - A quotation with a tag, either before or after the quote. Note the punctuation differences for each location.
3. Dialogue Tags within a Quote - add a natural pause with this strategic tag placement.
4. Quotes with body language or actions within the dialogue - adding body language and small actions can control pacing and add depth to the words spoken.

Then, when he was taking off his tie, he asked me if I’d written his goddam composition for him. I told him it was over on his goddam bed. […]

              All of the sudden, he said, “For Chrissake, Holden. This is about a goddam baseball glove.”

              “So what?” I said. Cold as hell.

              “Wuddaya mean so what? I told ya it had to be about a goddam room or a house or something.”

              “You said it had to be descriptive. What the hell’s the difference if it’s about a baseball glove?”

              “God damn it.” He was sore as hell.  He was really furious. “You always do everything backasswards.” He looked at me. “No wonder you’re flunking the hell out of here,” he said. “You don’t do one damn thing the way you’re supposed to.  I mean it. Not one damn thing.”

If you want more of a deep-dive into the mechanics of using quotations, this article explains why we place punctuation in specific parts of the sentence. It also explains more scenarios than I dig into here, with several simple examples to clarify these guidelines.

Hopefully, these writing tips will help to nail down the details of your newly renovated dialogue and help pick up the pace of your story.

What tools do you recommend we add to the writing dialogue toolbelt? Is there a grammar point you struggle with as a writer? Add some writer encouragement for better editing and share your thoughts with us today!

About Kris

Kris Maze is an author, freelance writer, and teacher. She enjoys writing twisty, speculative fiction with character-driven plots. After years of reading classic literature, mysteries, and thrillers, she began to write and publish her own books. She also writes for various publications including a regular post at the award-winning Writers in the  Storm Blog. 

When she isn’t spending time with her favorite people and pets, Kris Maze is taking pictures, hiking, or pondering the wisdom of Bob Ross. You can follow her author journey at her website at KrisMazeAuthor.com

by James Preston

I remember being 14 years-old and getting my first driving lesson, which consisted of sitting behind the wheel of my dad’s 1960 Ford Galaxy while it was parked in our driveway. The idea was for me to get familiar with the pedals and controls, but I used the time to entertain my mom.

“Truck! Look out, big truck!  Oh, no, we’re on the train tracks — train, it’s a train!”

I let go of the steering wheel and dove down into the footwell. Next to me, my mother was laughing so hard she couldn’t stop.

The Ford was a stick shift, with the lever mounted on the steering column — the infamous “three on the tree.”

She took the time to get me familiar with the care because changing gears adds a new level of complexity to driving, and so does shifting writing gears.

What does shifting gears with your writing mean?

What does it mean to shift writing gears? Why would you do it? Below, I’ve offered a few examples of writers who cross genres successfully. Hopefully, by the end of the post, you will be able to describe the process involved and state whether or not it’s for you.

And if there are big trucks ready to run you down, we’ll try to show you how to avoid them.

Shifting Gears Definition

If you are like me, you write genre fiction. In bookstores and on the web you are “siloed” into mystery, romance, science fiction, or into the smaller subgroups like paranormal shapeshifter. Shifting gears means that you want to try another silo — write a historical romance instead of a ray-gun-filled space opera.

It’s important to remember that these categories exist for a reason. Whether they are in a bookstore or browsing online, readers can search for “Romance” and find the books they are interested in all in one place.

(And if you’re thinking, “My novel is totally new and different. It crosses all genres and cannot be pigeonholed,” see the WITS essay by Chuck Sambuchino in the Reference section below.)

Examples of Successful Gear Shifts

Mary Higgins Clark

Clark wrote short stories with some success until her husband died and left her with five children to support. She tried a novel about George and Martha Washington that flopped, then turned to mysteries. The rest — fifty, yes, fifty — books later is history.

Michael Crichton

I have read that while in medical school at Harvard he supported himself writing mysteries, before switching to science fiction. That’s amazing. I’m in awe (and a bit jealous), just as I am of Mary Higgins Clark.

Geez, usually I enjoy writing these essays. This one’s making me feel inadequate.

Stephen King

The master of horror switched to mysteries and wrote The Colorado Kid and then Joyland. The latter went on to be nominated for the 2014 Edgar as Best Paperback Original. In this case I do not feel inadequate since he’s probably not human.

Jayne Ann Krentz

Amazingly prolific, she writes under the names Amanda Quick for historical, Jane Castle for science fiction, and Jayne Ann Krentz for present day romances. I may have missed a few. And here’s a twist: she follows the same families and organizations through all three genres and settings. 

J. K. Rowling

She only wrote stories that are probably the Wizard of Oz of our time, now she’s done the Robert Galbraith modern mysteries, which have been turned into a successful tv series.

And finally . . . 

Yours Truly

I broke into fiction writing science fiction short stories, selling my first one to Analog Science Fiction. But I had a clearly articulated goal: I wanted to write for a living.

I looked at my work and realized two things. First, I needed to write novels. I could not sell enough short stories to support myself. Second, my sci-fi stories were really thrillers with ray guns. (Ok that last is not strictly true. I’ve never included a ray gun in any of my stories.)

Also, I met the editor who bought my first story and asked him why he didn’t buy the sequel — boy, you talk about young, stupid, and brash. I blush to share that. If you take nothing else away from this essay, remember that. He said, “You’re really writing a novel. Why don’t you go away and write it?” I did and after a bumpy road it became Leave A Good-Looking Corpse.

And that leads to . . . 

First Gear

Ok, in a stick shift first is the lowest gear, designed to overcome the inertia of the car and get it moving.

If you switch, move to a genre you love. I have never met such an individual, but I’ve been told there are “writers” who say things like, “I’ve never read one, but I know sexy teen vampire novels are hot right now so I’m going to write a few before I do my serious literary work.”

Don’t switch for marketing. Do it for love.

Second Gear

Ok, so you are ready for a change. Deciding what you want to write next should be easy. What was the last book you read that you loved? That’s it. Enough said.

Third Gear

With this gear, you’re ready for the freeway. A new genre should be, above all, fun. You’re exploring new territory. Instead of the new governess wondering why the attic room is locked, you’re world-building in a geosynchronous space station. You’re on the freeway with the radio blastin,’ cruisin’ just as fast as you can.

I suggest taking a novel out of the new genre and taking it apart. I did this with Robert Crais’, excellent Lullaby Town, scene-by-scene, and what a learning experience. 

Choose carefully because (1) it’s a lot of work and (2) the novel will be ruined for you. You’ll know it so well you won’t be able to reread it.

Let’s Stretch that Analogy 

If you haven’t noticed, the world of publishing has changed dramatically in the last few years. What does that mean for genres, when readers can search on anything, anything at all?

Well, so far they haven’t gone away. I personally believe people have limited time to read, and many of them like to know what they’re getting. That Search function— like Perseverance — can drive for you.

Yes, our new Rover is in large part autonomous; it drives itself around. Truthfully I have no idea where this will go, but I know two things: story will not go away. And stories will always have labels, and folks like you and me will try to entertain and enlighten. 

And in the end . . . 

The bottom line? Story is story. Tell a good one and you can dress it up in any genre you like and it will work just fine.

It’s all about story. Stuff it into a romance, a thriller, a vampire western, it’s still a story. Your character wants something; something is preventing them from getting it. So go for it, gentle reader, and good luck. 

References and Further Reading

Changing genres is work. Yeah, I know, you thought writing that first novel was work, and it was, and here we go again. The good news is Writers in the Storm has addressed genres in several excellent essays that all provide more information that will help when you decide to get behind the wheel. (Can I torture that poor analogy any more? Sure.)

I’ve picked a few that I especially like. 

Genres Explained: Insights, Tips and Definitions From Literary Agents by Chuck Sambuchino is filled with apt quotations from agents.

Pros & Cons of Skipping Genres by Laura Drake (May 2015) - Gets into POV, Voice, and Research. IMHO, essential if you want to do this.

Creating an Author Brand When You Write Multiple Genres (Nov 2016) - this post from June Stevens Westerfield contains an excellent case study.

Now it’s your turn. Do you write in a genre? Have you thought about switching?

About James

James R. Preston has always considered writing an adventure, but the last convention he appeared at was over the top. At Left Coast Crime San Diego last March he did a panel discussion. A few hours later the convention was canceled and he got a call from the people running the bookstore, saying, “James, the truck is here. We’re packing up your stuff.” He doesn’t really think it was his fault; people seemed to like the panel. 

And it was pouring rain. Note the wet pants in the selfie below.

By Janice Hardy (@Janice_Hardy)

I’ve always been drawn to writing science fiction and fantasy, which means that I’ve written a lot of first drafts based on “cool ideas” but no real conflict. Sure, I had a sense of what the problems were, and maybe even a few key scenes unfolding in my mind, but the books were about the idea, not characters with specific problems. 

No surprise, those drafts never got beyond the first draft.

Many a novel has been started with a vague idea and a lot of pages that explain why that idea is so cool. They’re even well-written novels, but in the end, they fail because there’s no point to them and no problem driving the plot.

Are you making this mistake in your novel?

Take a look at your current manuscript. What’s the problem of the novel? Is it a specific, concrete problem to solve (such as catch a killer, find the money to save the farm, defeat the evil wizard before she enslaves the realm) or is it a vague issue (such as find love, learn to rely on yourself, show how X came to pass)?

If the point of the novel is a vague issue, odds are you’re going to have trouble writing the first draft, because there’s nothing for the protagonist to do. Without a problem to solve, there’s no plot. 

Evaluating Your Story

Here is a template to help you evaluate. Test your novel and fill in the [bracketed information] of this statement:

My novel is about [the protagonist] who [has a problem], because [the reason the problem exists]. To fix it, [the protagonist] must [risk something of value] and [specific action that has to be done to resolve the problem] or [what happens if they fail].

For example:

My novel is about [Lisa] who [is part of a government experiment], because [she was born with a special gene that allows her to sense emotions]. To fix it, [Lisa] must [risk her life and defy her government] and [make people aware of what’s being done to people like her] or [they’ll kill her].

Can you tell what this book is about?

There’s a general sense, but the specific plot isn’t there, because “defy her government” is a vague idea, not a problem to resolve. Her “problem” is also that she was born with a special gene. There’s nothing here that says how that’s affecting her life or what problem she has because of that gene.

Let’s dig a little deeper. I’ll add the parts we’re filling in as a reminder:

[has a problem]: [is part of a government experiment]. How is this a problem? Captain America was part of a government experiment, too, but he volunteered to serve his country. This is a good example of a vague idea that feels like it’s enough to carry a novel, because odds are you know it’s bad and an issue, even if you don’t know how yet. It feels like enough to plot with, yet it’s probably not.

[the reason the problem exists]: [she was born with a special gene that allows her to sense emotions]. This gives specifics, and is good, because it tells us why the protagonist is special. You can instantly picture several reasons how this might work, how it might help her, and how it might hurt her. But it doesn’t say how this is a problem.

[risk something of value]: [risk her life and defy her government]. This is another vague and unhelpful description. How is she risking her life? How is she defying her government? Without those details, it’s difficult if not impossible to plot this story.

[specific action that has to be done to resolve the problem]: [make people aware of what’s being done to people like her] Great plan, but how exactly does she do this? And is this the real climax of this novel? She goes on TV, shares her story and all is well? Odds are no, just making people aware isn’t going to do it, and there’s more here to do before this problem is resolved.

[what happens if they fail]: [they’ll kill her]. This seems like a great stake, but how often do protagonists actually die? Almost never, so readers know this isn’t going to happen, and you as the author know it isn’t going to happen. Which means you don’t really have anything at stake.

See how easy it is to write a pitch line for a book that won’t help you write the novel?

To find the story problem, you’d have to figure out the specifics of these vague ideas.

“Defy her government” might be hijacking the local TV station and showing videos of the treatment or the experiment itself to create public outrage and force government intervention. It might be causing a revolt. It might even be escaping and running away. What does Lisa have to do? Find the specifics, and you’ll find the story problem.

Let’s look at an example that works (my novel, The Shifter):

My novel is about [Nya] who [has a missing sister named Tali], because [Tali was kidnapped by people wanting to exploit her magical ability for financial gain]. To fix it, [Nya] must [risk her freedom] and [use her own magic to break into the Healers’ League and rescue Tali from her kidnappers] or [Tali will die and Nya might get captured and exploited herself].

It’s raw, but what has to be done in this novel is fairly clear. The plot will come from Nya trying to find and rescue Tali from kidnappers. That’s not all that happens, of course, but this is at the heart of the novel and the plot is all about resolving this problem.

Let’s dig a little deeper:

[has a problem]: [has a missing sister named Tali] This clearly states the problem and it’s easy to extrapolate that finding the sister is the goal. I could have added “she must find and rescue” to be more specific.

[the reason the problem exists]: [Tali was kidnapped by people wanting to exploit her magical ability for financial gain]. This sets up the problem and who the antagonists are. There’s inherent conflict here, even if there are still details about the why to work out.

[risk something of value]: [risk her freedom] Freedom is a bit better than life, because it’s quite possible (and likely) that Nya will lose her freedom at some point in the story. If I wanted to clarify this further, I could add “and her anonymity, her only protection against people who would exploit her as well.” That tells me that Nya is very likely going to lose her anonymity and the safety it provides.

[specific action that has to be done to resolve the problem]: [use her own magic to break into the Healers’ League and rescue Tali from her kidnappers] A specific act for specific motives, and also connects back to the original problem stated—has a kidnapped sister.

[what happens if they fail]: [Tali will die and Nya might get captured and exploited herself]. Tali dying is a real possibility, as is Nya being exploited. These are stakes readers can see happening, and stakes I could have happen, that won’t stop the story cold.

Final Thoughts

Could I flesh this out more? Sure, and if I was writing this for the first time, I probably would, since I’m a plotter. But there are enough concrete details here to prove that this idea has a problem, real stakes, and a specific plan of action to solve it.

Odds are I won’t hit a wall at page 100 and not know where the story goes next, which is a common issue with vague goals and unclear story problems.

Try your own idea and see what happens.

If you have trouble filling this template out, that’s a red flag that there’s no problem to solve, just a vague sense of where the problem lies. If you can fill out the template with a concrete and tangible problem, odds are your novel has a conflict you can work with.

How did your novel or idea do? Which of the steps in the "template" gave you the most trouble? Share with us down in the comments!

About Janice

Janice Hardy is the award-winning author of the teen fantasy trilogy The Healing Wars, including The Shifter, Blue Fire, and Darkfall from Balzer+Bray/Harper Collins. She also writes the Grace Harper urban fantasy series for adults under the name, J.T. Hardy. When she's not writing fiction, she runs the popular writing site Fiction University, and has written multiple books on writing, including Understanding Show, Don't Tell (And Really Getting It), Plotting Your Novel: Ideas and Structure, and the Revising Your Novel: First Draft to Finished Draft series. Sign up for her newsletter and receive 25 ways to Strengthen Your Writing Right Now free.

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