Avoid Marshmallow Dialogue to Improve Your Story

Sometimes I don't actually have anything to say when it comes time to talk about writing. I'll sit down in front of this page and feel like I've given every good piece of advice I have, talked about every issue that's irked me, and shared everything I have. When that happens I get online, and I start looking for what other people have had to say about writing problems, and their fixes for said issues.

This is how I discovered the term "marshmallow dialogue" over at Writers Digest, and it is the most perfect summary I've seen in a long time for an issue entirely too many of us struggle with.

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Puffy, Soft, and Sweet

Dialogue is one of the most important parts of your story, but despite its importance it is also a very easy aspect of a narrative to get wrong. Because while good dialogue can immediately draw a reader into the story, bad dialogue can leave them feeling glutted, confused, and less-than-entertained.

So how does one recognize marshmallow dialogue? Well, some of the signs are:

- Puffy: Marshmallow dialogue tends to take up a lot of room on the page, despite not saying much. It's mostly made up of hot air that just eats word count.

- Sweet: While not all dialogue has to be combative, there should be a back-and-forth when people are talking and sharing information. Generally speaking if characters are in agreement, and they aren't discussing anything of substance, it's probably a marshmallow.

- Samey: Imagine you've just eaten an entire bag of marshmallows. Now, did any one of them taste different than any of the others? Probably not... but that's a problem if each one of those marshmallows was supposed to be their own character with their own, distinct voice. If you can't tell who's talking by word choice, inflection, etc., then you might be crossing over into marshmallow territory.

As an example of what I mean, consider the dialogue in the above short story. While each speaker has their own, distinct voice when it comes to sound, there's also word choice, brevity, and no one is speaking just to fill the air. Every exchange between the characters shows us something about them, and either tells us something about their situation, or about their relationship to each other.

The thing to remember here is that there is no universal definition of good dialogue. However, we do know the traits of a marshmallow, so the key is to make sure that your story doesn't start looking too soft and sucrose in between the quotation marks.

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That's all for this week's Craft of Writing! For more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, or at My Amazon Author Page where you can find books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife, or my most recent short story collection The Rejects!

 

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3 Simple Ways To Avoid Info Dumping in Your Story

There are few things more frustrating as a reader than the dreaded info dump. You're just getting stuck into the narrative, engaging with the characters and the world, and then the author jerks up on the hand brake in order to give you a miniature lecture on how hyper drives function, or the political history of the Sisterhood of The Seven-Fold Veil, or to go on at length about orc biology to the point that you just want to close the book and pick up something that feels less like a textbook and more like a novel.

If you've found yourself prone to info dumping in your work, and you're looking for a way to stop, I'd recommend trying some of the following solutions. They aren't perfect, but I've had pretty solid results following these guidelines over the past several years.

Open your mouths, it's all coming your way!

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Now then, let's get to it!

Method #1: Provide Context Clues Instead of a Lecture

"They did what? To who? Oh... oh no."

Readers are able to intuit a lot of information from context clues in a story. Everything from the reluctance someone has to talk about a subject, to the reaction the protagonist has to the sight of a space ship engine or a display of super strength fills your audience in on the world. Even a quip like, "You remember back when guys had to wear body armor to be bullet proof?" said by a detective engaged in a firefight with a metahuman bank robber fills the reader in on a lot of information; metahumans are relatively common now, this happened within the memory of a single cop, and it's become normal enough that it's a frustration rather than something to leave them in awe over.

Little clues like this, peppered throughout your narrative, can paint a picture for your audience. While it might be tempting to present them a full timeline of when the first metahumans emerged, explaining who they were and the powers they possessed, and then talking about legislation, normalization, cultural backlash and adjustment, etc., don't do that. Instead, just clue your readers in through observing how the world functions, what people say, and how they act. Trust them to fill in the blanks without taking them aside to explain the full history of this world they find themselves in.

This has the added benefit that readers will be interested to know more, and you can peel back the curtain slowly to maintain engagement... much like we see with the world building in the film John Wick, for those who want a concrete example of this tip in action.

Method #2: Work It Into (Natural) Conversation

"Oh dear... come take a look at this. Let me tell you what it means."

Originally I was just going to leave this tip as Work It Into Conversation, but an info dump with quotation marks around it is still an info dump. Having the barkeep or detective vocalize the necessary information out loud doesn't inherently make it less of a dump... you need to have context for the conversation so that it slides naturally and organically into the narrative.

For example, say you want to clue your audience in on certain incidents that happened between Mars and Earth. If you just so happen to have a Martian marine present who was there, you could have them talk about what they saw, and what they did during the war in question. Maybe the context is that they're doing a weapons check or armor and suit maintenance, and another character wants to know just how serious this basic task really is. So the marine starts listing off death toll numbers from the Void Reach conflict, talking about how many died on each side... and how often it was improperly-maintained suits rather than actual enemy fire that lead to death tolls. This provides some of the hard facts you want your readers to have, but it also leads to context clues regarding character habits and personalities, as well as why there may still be bad blood between particular factions.

You may not be able to fit every detail you want into a conversation, but if you flex your mental muscles you can fit a surprising amount of relevant information into scenes where characters are doing something else, but talking at the same time.

Method #3: Ask If The Audience Needs To Know

You know... they probably don't, now that I think about it.

Info dumping, in general, comes out of a need to gush about something in the story you're telling. Maybe it's just cool background stuff that you're really proud of, or you did a lot of research to understand a particular aspect of law enforcement, military tactics, medical examination, or astrophysics, and you don't want to just let that sit in the background.

However, consider how much information your audience needs to have in order to understand your story. Not only that, but how much of that information do they need right now in order for the ride to continue on down the tracks? Because contrary to the way a lot of us feel, your audience doesn't need to know everything up front in order to get stuck in. And if they do, you should restructure it so that they don't have to chew through an entire dump of information in order to actually get to the story. Because the background is just that... background. People like worldbuilding, but that's the sauce on the sandwich. Just enough really pulls it together, but most of us don't want a mouthful of mayo with a bacon garnish on the side.

As such, evaluate what information your audience needs to have. Once you know what they need to know, figure out how to spread it throughout your narrative. Work it into conversations and observations, show the audience these things in action, or just make simple statements that fill in a gap without going on and on about it for half the chapter. Most importantly, let things go if they aren't helping your story. Because while the mythology of the ancient elves or the inner workings of dragon engines might fascinate you, if you're putting a stop to everything to tell your audience about them, there's a lot of people who are just going to get off the ride.

Like, Follow, and Come Back Again!

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing! For more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, or at My Amazon Author Page where you can find books like my cat noir novel Marked Territory, its sequel Painted Cats, my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife, or my most recent short story collection The Rejects!

 

And to stay on top of all my latest news and releases, collected once a week, make sure you subscribe to The Literary Mercenary's mailing list. 

If you'd like to help support my work, then consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page! Lastly, to keep up with my latest, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and now on Pinterest as well!

Do Not Write Accents Phonetically... Seriously, Just Don't

We all write different kinds of stories. Some of us write globe-trotting spy thrillers where secret agents play mind games with shadowy conspiracies. A few of us write about the horrors that lurk off the map, in the pine barrens, or dark, forgotten forests where neither sanity or cell phone service treads. And still others of us prefer whirlwind romances where perfect lovers find each other despite all odds.

No matter what you like to write, this piece of advice is for you. Stop writing your characters' accents phonetically. You're shooting yourself in the foot.

Madame... I have no goddamn clue what you just tried to communicate to me.

Why It's A Stupid Idea to Write Out an Accent

There may be some folks reading this piece who are already planning what they're going to say in the comment section below. However, let me ask you this. If you have a character speaking a foreign language, do you write out their literal words before translating them for your audience? Or do you just tell the audience what the character said?

Chances are good most of you just write the meaning of the dialogue, rather than writing out what someone said in French, or Spanish, or German, then translating it into English for the audience. And you do that for a very particular reason; because you know it's going to be a waste of time for your reader to read the dialogue in one language, then read the same dialogue in a different language. And if they don't speak the first language? Then it's an even bigger waste of time.

Phonetically writing out an accent works off the same principle.

Say it once, say it well.

We've all seen it, and some of us have done it. You have a character with a thick Scott's burr, perhaps. Or someone from South London. Maybe you've got a supporting character from Louisiana, or Texas. The way they speak is as much a part of their character as how they dress, or the skills they possess, and you want to make an impression on the audience with it.

The problem is that when you start writing out an accent, you're putting a hurdle in front of the reader. Because there are no rules for what a truncated word means, so what you write on the page may not be what your reader hears in their head. And there's always the risk your reader won't be able to parse the meaning. This will leave whole sections of your story as unintelligible gibberish which your reader will have to figure out through context.

That's a lot more work than just reading a book where the author conveys the information, and lets the reader keep up with the story.

Add Some Flair, But Be Less Literal

Characters shouldn't all sound the same, but there are better ways to bring across their speech patterns than by hoping your audience can sound out non-standard English. The easiest way, of course, is to simply tell your reader what a character's accent is. Whether it's a gentle Southern drawl, a thick Russian slur, or a clipped, public school accent, readers will get the picture without being bashed over the head with it. You can change up the speaker's word choice, the cadence of their speech, and the slang they use, too. All of this allows you to add unique character to someone, without forcing the reader to ponder over whether or not, "ach," is a real word, a slang term, a spelling error, or if they're just supposed to sound it out the way it's spelled.

Well, that's all for this week's Craft of Writing post. Hopefully it gave folks something to think about. If you'd like to support this blog, and keep my nose to the grindstone, why not drop by The Literary Mercenary's Patreon Page? All it takes is $1 a month to get yourself some sweet swag, and to keep me in business. Lastly, if you haven't followed me on Facebook, Tumblr, or Twitter yet, well, why not start?

There's Nothing Wrong With "Said"

I have written a lot of prose over my career as an author. Some of it has appeared on my Amazon author page, but a lot of it hasn't. I've also been an avid reader for most of my life. In that time, I've thought about a lot of issues. The nature of fear, and what makes effective horror is one that I've probably killed brain cells over. Another question I've pondered is why school settings are so hugely popular for so many stories, and why books geared toward a younger reading audience are consistently picked up by older readers. And, as you could guess by the title, I've clocked a lot of hours on the issue of the word "said," particularly as it relates to identification in dialogue.

Say what now?

Said is one of those words that's going to appear a lot in your work, unless you're Cormac McCarthy, and you possess the ability to write an entire novel about a lone man with no name being alone with his own thoughts. Said is a perfectly functional word, it gets the point across, and it is (dare I say it?) a traditional part of novel writing. However, one of the first things practically any writer does when trying to spice up a manuscript is to replace said with a bunch of other words.

The great sage and eminent junkie Stephen King and I agree... don't do this.

Grated, Growled, Muttered, and Mumbled

A pattern I've noted in a lot of books is that authors will replace said with other words that are more indicative of how a character is talking. Grizzled police detectives will growl questions at suspects, and uncertain students will stammer or mumble when they talk. And there's nothing inherently wrong with this, just as there's nothing inherently wrong with using an adverb every now and again. Like I said in Blithely Digging Your Grave With Adverbs, though, when the numbers pile up it becomes a problem.

Much like zombies, now that I'm thinking about it.

When you're writing dialogue, it should be clear in the words you're choosing, and how the sentences are constructed, how a person sounds. For example, you shouldn't need to tell us that the lug who just took a kick to the nuts is groaning his dialogue; the reader should be able to infer that. If you've mentioned that the hitman with a scar across his throat from where someone tried to kill him has a rough, gravelly voice, you don't need to say that he "grated" out every word of his dialogue.

As with adverbs, you should save these for special occasions. When you first introduce a character, use something other than "said" to give us a sense of their voice, if you really want to. Or if something has happened that changes a character's voice (like how someone weak with hunger and thirst might only be able to whisper), mention it once to give the audience a clear image of what they should be hearing.

But don't use your substitute every time a character speaks. Seriously, it's habit forming, and the last thing we need is another novel out there with a manly ex-soldier who grumbles and snarls everything, or a teenage lead who spends the entire book muttering and mumbling instead of actually speaking to the other members of the cast.

That's it for this week's writing tips. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you'd like to help keep The Literary Mercenary up and running, consider stopping by my Patreon page. All I ask is $1 a month to keep content coming right to your screen. Also, if you want to make sure you stay on top of all my posts, then follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter too.