Writing Great Dialogue

Earning a degree in Linguistics forever changed how I look at dialogue. 

Did you know:

• About half of what we say to each other is simply verifying that we've heard correctly or been heard. And that's not even adjusting for age/hearing loss! So right away, I know I can write half of what I say and still be effective.
• A lot of the studies in the 1970s that claimed huge differences between how men and women speak have been shown to be either poorly done studies, or not really gender-based, but power-based. That's right, men or women in a lower power status use more qualifiers (just, a little, I think), not women in general. So just ignore those Mars/Venus books, they are based on out-of-date or flawed scientific research.
• The person with the most power says the least. Except villains monologuing in the penultimate climax of a comic book or movie based on a comic. I sometimes wonder if comic book writers are subconsciously signaling the illusory nature of the bad guy's power. 
• Mamet-swearing is funny/engaging, Tarantino-swearing bores me. (Okay, I didn't learn that in linguistics classes, that's just my opinion).

What's my point? Anyone can improve their dialogue. We don't all have a natural ear for the magical rhythms and mysterious structure of human speech, but luckily there's science to help us out!

P.S. I'm teaching a session on dialog at the Public Safety Writer's Conference in July. It's not only a great conference, but if you have law enforcement, EMT, or forensic people in your books, this is a great conference to hear how people in those professions talk! This is a small but warm and friendly conference, and I learn a lot every time I attend.

Comments

[Michael A. Black]

Great insights into dialogue writing, Mysti. I can't wait for your presentation at the conference.

[camille minichino]

I agree, on the insights. I knew there was a reason I never warmed up to John Gray! Besides, if you ever heard him speak, I'll bet you'd toss his book.

"Swearing" was the normal talk when/where I grew up. The F word as we call it was an omnipresent adjective. "Pass the F'in salt." "What the F is that on your shoe?" Eventually, it lost its power. I knew my mother was angry when she didn't use it.