Writing stories using only dialogue can have disastrous consequences.
During the last stream, a subscriber requested that we write some stories using dialogue only.
Writing good dialogue is tough, since you want to make sure that the characters’ voices/personalities come through clearly enough that the reader can tell who is who just by what they say, no narration necessary.
So we practiced that by writing some stories using ONLY dialogue!
Can we make the characters’ personalities pop enough that it’s readable without any dialogue tags? Let’s find out!
First chat came up with a bunch of characters, then we chose two at random to have a conversation. The ones chosen were:
Character #1: A 102 year old man asking a computer store tech how to call his grandkids on his T-89 calculator.
Character #2: A writing group leader who cares about quality, but couldn’t find an interested publisher, having an existential crisis after seeing their library is featuring a copy of a published book written by that one “next great american novel” guy from their writing group.
Here’s what we wrote:
“Excuse me there, young man. I was wondering if you could help me with a little issue I seem to be having with my newfangled tellyphone over here.”
“Sure thing, sir! What seems to be the issue?”
“Well ya see, every time I type in the phone number for my grandkids, you see I can remember it because the first numbers, 407 now I was born in the great year of 1940 and let me tell you what, now that was a—”
“That sounds very interesting, sir. But maybe it’ll be easier for me to understand if you just show me your phone.”
“Ah, well why didn’tcha just say that sooner? Here’s the conflabbed devil’s machine right here. Hope I didn’t accidentally press the wrong button again, the blasted thing loves to screech at me whenever I punch its keys the wrong way, just like my old lady, god rest her soul.”
“Sir, do you have your phone? This is a calculator.”
“A what now? Say it again. I can’t keep up with all those newfangled rat-people words you young people use on the Tic-Tacs or whatever it is these days, can’t keep up with it.”
“If only one goddamn agent had taken my novel, I wouldn’t have to deal with crap like this anymore….”
“What was that, son? These old ears can’t quite flap along with your lips moving that fast.”
“I said it’s a calculator, sir. You know, you use it for math. Maybe your phone is in one of your other pockets?”
“Now see here, young man! I may be a little old, and not quite understand these beepers and CD-Roms, but I have something that you don’t — experience, and let me tell you what, that used to mean something. Not anymore these days though. It’s all about the googley things. Googley eye pods. My god. If I’d told old Jim back in the war, god rest his soul, that I was putting on some Googley eye pods, well I tell you what, my whole platoon would’ve been on my ass like napalm on Charlie back in the—”
“Sir, thank you for your time, but I have other customers to deal with. So if you can’t find your phone then please step aside to make room, thank you very much.”
“All right, all right! I hear you. Now lemme see here, whatta we got in these pockets? Got some keys, my lucky pickle, my wallet ain’t quite as thick as I’d like it to be, if you know what I mean! But here, maybe one of those Tic-Tacs worked its way inside it? Can you see one?”
“There’s no phone here, sir. It’s a wallet. I’m sorry but… wait a minute. Are these your business cards?”
“Yesiree, Bob! You’re looking at Charles Montgomery, literary agent for American Greats Publishing Partners fifty years running! I tell you what, I helped build that business from the ground up, with nothing but my bare hands, the shirt on my back, and a small government interest-free loan of one-hundred thousand dollars. That was all you needed back in the day, not nowadays with all the grubby leeches screaming for handouts, my goodness gracious. They wouldn’t know the meaning of hard work if it spanked ‘em straight on the tuckus, just like my old lady used to do to me on Tuesdays, god rest her soul! ”
“This could be my chance….”
“What was that, son?”
“I said, I see it now! The problem is that someone who called you, uh, uploaded a virus. Yes, someone must have uploaded a virus! Unfortunately it’s very expensive to fix.”
“I knew it! It was China wasn’t it? Don’t tell me it’s China wanting my money again!”
“That’s exactly it, sir. So I’d be happy to offer you a new working phone instead, but… usually there’s a week-long waiting period.”
“A week! Now, listen to me, young man. To you, a week is no big deal. Go and have a nice date at the soda fountain for a nickel, why don’tcha? But for me, I’m an old man! I might not even have a week left.”
“I understand, sir. I might be able to expedite the process if… well, would you mind doing me a favor?”
“Ah, I see. The ‘ol tic for tac. You rub my back, I’ll rub yours. Just like me and Jim used to do back in the war in the barracks closet when we were supposed to be mopping the floor.”
“Yes. Exactly. You have connections to the publishing world, right? Maybe I could give you the book that I’ve written and you could show it to some people, perhaps?”
“Oh, is that all? Of course, sonny, I’d be happy to give your manuscript the old eye-over, no eye-pods necessary if you catch my drift. Here, I’ll give you one of my cards with a nice little note written on the back, and you can mail that sucker straight to the office itself, I’ll even call Betty and let her know to expect your little gift in the box.”
“Thank you, sir! That sounds wonderful. Now, why don’t we get your phone all set up and—”
“I tell you what, though! If your manuscript is anything like this one that we just got published last month, oh my goodness gracious, that was the most amazing story I’ve ever read in my life. What was the title again? ‘Baby Boss?’ ‘Bob Ross?’ Ah, that’s it! ‘The Heart of Moss.’”
“…what did you just say?”
“The Heart of Moss! Oh my goodness gracious, let me tell you what, now that is a story. It’s a story about humanity, and the universal struggles of life and overcoming fear and desperation to achieve greatness, the neverending battle between good and evil, oh my it is—”
“The Heart of Moss? By George Plonk?”
“Yes, I believe that is his name. What an auteur! What a visionary!”
“Sir, I run a writing group. George Plonk brought that story to share, and it was one of the worst things I’ve ever read in my life. It’s a story about… robot haemorrhoids. You know this, right?”
“What was that, son? I couldn’t quite pick up what you were putting down there, if you catch my drift.”
“I said I’m sorry sir but it turns out that this new phone is going to cost you ten thousand dollars, payable only in cash, behind the store.”
“Oh. All right then. I never quite understand these weird new payment methods you kids like to use, it started with the cards and now it’s this. Well, I suppose an old dog can learn new tricks. Here, let me drive you to the ATM so we can get that cash together, Jim.”
Next up were these three characters:
Character #1: A sassy accountant from the hood.
Character #2: Someone who bought an exotic vase with a ghost in it and now their dog speaks German
Character #3: A proctologist who finds something very odd in your colon.
Here’s what we wrote:
“Are you sure you’re a licensed doctor?”
“Now wait just one goddamn minute. Are you requesting to see the doctor’s credentials? Because that will add another fifty bucks to your bill.”
“Ah. No. I’m good then.”
“Hmm, let’s get started then. Gloves on. Camera ready. A new challenge! Now just relax and let Dr. Midnight work his magic.”
“Dr. Midnight? Why do they call you that?”
“He called that because he be working where the sun don’t shine. That info will be added to your bill.”
“And… we’re in!”
“Oh. Oh no.”
“Now, hun, remind me, you stretchin’ to cover the rent, or you got ‘nough for a five-star colonoscopy?”
“I… don’t know.”
“Well, a one-star only covers the first foot in, and… oh, honey. Oh, babycakes. Is that camera showin’ your colon or a clogged toilet at Wendy’s? You’d better be makin’ it rain up in here to clean out that nasty business.”
“Sure… whatever. Just… I knew I shouldn’t have come to the hood for this.”
“Hmmm, now wait a minute. In ten years of working as a proctologist and a sous chef at Chuck E Cheese, I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“Oh no. Don’t say that, doc. What is it?”
“Well, take a look for yourself on the camera. It appears to be some sort of small… canis familiaris.”
“Holy crap! That’s Buster, my German Shepherd.”
“Now hold up one minute. A canis in your anus? That’s another fifty right there, G. And dogs are not covered by human insurance.”
“I don’t care about that! Just get it out of there!”
“Hmmm, more than getting it out, my question is how did it get in there in the first place?”
“Well…”
“Don’t you dare try to tell us no lies. If you one of them weirdo butt-stuff lovers, Dr. Midnight needs to know.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s, well, you see there was this vase.”
“Mmmhmm, is that what the kids calling them these days? You can just say ‘plug’ round these parts, hon.”
“No no no, a real vase. I bought it at the Goodwill next to Chuck E Cheese, but it had a ghost in it and it made Buster start speaking German and—”
“Aha! I see. A classic case of tellus spiritus, the ceramic spirit.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have bought a vase from the hood… but it was such a good deal and matched my curtains!”
“Just putting it out there but ghosts ain’t covered by no human insurance neither. That’ll be another cold fifty.”
“Whatever! I don’t care. Can you get him out, doc?”
“Hmmm, I’ll see what I can do. I’m going to need you to breathe and push. Can you do that for me?”
“Oh god. Like I’m giving birth to Buster?”
“Hold up! Let me get my phone for this.”
“Breathe and push. Breathe and push!”
“Ohhhh noooo! Hnnnnggg!”
“Doc! Here, I got a chicken bone from our lunch bucket. Still greasy! Lure that canis out of the anus!”
“Thank you. I can see it! He’s breaching! Just a little more.”
“Hnnnnggg!”
“Doc, can you lean a bit to the side? I gotta format this photo for the Instagram. Bout to be IG famous.”
“Aaaand, there it is! Congratulations, it’s a dog.”
“Oh god, oh god. Is it out?”
“Oh honeycakes, is it ever. And it reeks like Grandma left alone at the Chuck E Cheese booth with a tummy full of pizza and a purse empty of fresh diapers.”
“Ich spreche nur die Wahrheit, und die Wahrheit ist verdammt, es stank da drin.”
“Buster? What did he say, doc?”
“I don’t know, I only speak Latin and smooth jazz.”
“Hold up! I know German.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. Whatchu think? Gotta get them gen-ed credits in college somehow, goddamn dean wants my money to fulfill his lame-ass foreign language requirements.”
“Well what did he say?”
“Yes, I’m very interested to know as well. This could deepen our medical knowledge of tellus spiritus.”
“He done said, ‘I only speak the truth, and the truth is goddamn it stank in there.’ Now that translation will be another fifty bucks, G.”
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Featured image: Unsplash