Revenge, Insanity, and the Bloody Diamonds
Meredith Mestlven was abused and betrayed by her nobleman husband. After a desperate fit of retaliation, she fled for her life and lost her sanity. Now nearly 20 years later, she returns to her home at Sorrow Watch to destroy her enemies and reclaim her jewels. How far will she go to satisfy her revenge? Dark, cunning and beautiful, Mestlven will win your heart or devour your mind.
Jesse Teller fell in love with fantasy when he was five years old and played his first game of Dungeons & Dragons. The game gave him the ability to create stories and characters from a young age. He started consuming fantasy in every form and, by nine, was obsessed with the genre. As a young adult, he knew he wanted to make his life about fantasy. From exploring the relationship between man and woman, to studying the qualities of a leader or a tyrant, Jesse Teller uses his stories and settings to study real-world themes and issues.
He lives with his supportive wife, Rebekah, and his two inspiring children, Rayph and Tobin.
Author links:
https://jesseteller.com/
https://www.facebook.com/PathtoPerilisc/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15269506.Jesse_Teller
http://www.amazon.com/Jesse-Teller/e/B01G0ZB7JG/
https://twitter.com/JesseTeller
https://www.reddit.com/user/SimonBard
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/JesseTeller
He lives with his supportive wife, Rebekah, and his two inspiring children, Rayph and Tobin.
Author links:
https://jesseteller.com/
https://www.facebook.com/PathtoPerilisc/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15269506.Jesse_Teller
http://www.amazon.com/Jesse-Teller/e/B01G0ZB7JG/
https://twitter.com/JesseTeller
https://www.reddit.com/user/SimonBard
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/JesseTeller
The
Illusions of Dialogue
I came from a
family of storytellers, I mean, gifted storytellers. They could pick you up and
lift you into a tale like none other I have ever known. I apprenticed under
them, and it made me the writer I am. I have been telling stories all my life
and writing for most of my life, and at first, the storytelling didn’t
translate to the written word.
If I wrote the
story as I heard it, it always fell flat. There was no way to transfer the
experience of telling a story to writing one. The teller has more tools.
Words don’t make
the story. My grandfather had an eighth-grade education. He had a very basic
vocabulary. But man, listening to him tell a story was an experience I cannot
describe.
Well, I’m going
to try.
It was not the
words he used at all; it was the way he spoke. He used inflection like a master
working a clay pot. He had a grip on the dramatics. He knew when to sip.
Have you ever
been listening to a story being told by a truly gifted storyteller, and he
stops to take a sip of his drink? There is magic in that moment. The entire
room freezes. No one speaks. No one breathes. The sounds of the room drop down
to nothing. The TV in the background turns itself down, and everyone waits.
The thing I
learned from my uncles, grandfather, and mother is that it is not the words,
the sound effects, or even the tone of voice. It is in the pause. The pause
holds all the power of the tale. Conversation is this way as well. Magical
moments wait within the breath between words. The rhythm of the speaking tells
the story in a way nothing else ever could.
Think about
great orators. The breaths they take and the way they pause are the magic of
the speech.
You don’t
believe me. You are looking at me like you don’t believe me. Okay, let’s look
at any piece of dialogue. I’m a writer. I happen to have some right on hand.
Hold on while I get it.
Okay, I’m back.
Did you notice that the period at the end of that last paragraph did not
accurately convey the passage of time? Remember that. We are getting to that.
Now, in order to
make my point, I’m going to show it to you bare bones and suck the illusion
right out of the piece. Yes, my friend, there are illusions in every great
piece of dialogue. That is actually why we are here. Just wait.
“I know, you
make cheese. You’re a spy. Named Smear. Who makes cheese. Smear, the cheese
maker. I would wager a guess that you’re the most dangerous cheese maker this
country has ever known,” Rayph said.
“I’ll get better,” Smear said. Both laughed.
“I have to go. Got a thing to do. Thanks for the tea and what-have-you.”
“I’ll get better,” Smear said. Both laughed.
“I have to go. Got a thing to do. Thanks for the tea and what-have-you.”
This is the
dialogue of a scene I have written. All the conversation is there. Every word
of it. I have not changed a letter, not one piece of the conversation.
So, this is what
we know now. Smear makes cheese. He is also a spy. He is dangerous and the
country knows it. Rayph is leaving, and he has thanked Smear for the tea. We
know that. It is right there. But the illusion of talking has been sucked out
of it.
No one talks
like this. This is totally unbelievable. Sadly, this is what I read a lot of
the time. You can’t feel the cadence. You can’t feel the rhythm of the
conversation. That is a major problem in writing because we are given crude
tools to work with. We have a comma. That tiny piece of punctuation is supposed
to imply a pause in the conversation. Well, it doesn’t. What would you say if I
told you there is a long pause between the two phrases “thanks for the tea” and
“what-have-you”? There is a pretty long pause there. Rayph also takes a breath
for effect between the phrase “I know you make cheese” and the phrase “You’re a
spy named Smear.” A pretty important pause lives right there. This
conversation, like every one you have had, is riddled with pauses for effect
and little breaths that give the dialogue meaning and make it worth listening
to or reading.
In order to
write real and convincing dialogue, we need to feel those pauses. They need to
be there, but a simple comma or period will not do. It is too crude a tool. Go
back up and read that piece of dialogue again. Feel how stilted it is and how
clunky. Now, this is how it actually reads. This is the illusion I wove in it
to give it breaths and dramatic pauses:
Rayph
nodded. “I know, you make cheese,” Rayph said. “You’re a spy. Named Smear. Who
makes cheese. Smear, the cheese maker. I would wager a guess that you’re the
most dangerous cheese maker this country has ever known.”
“I’ll get better,” Smear said. Both laughed.
“I have to go. Got a thing to do,” Rayph said. He stood and drained his mug. “Thanks for the tea and,” he motioned to the cheese, “what-have-you.”
“I’ll get better,” Smear said. Both laughed.
“I have to go. Got a thing to do,” Rayph said. He stood and drained his mug. “Thanks for the tea and,” he motioned to the cheese, “what-have-you.”
No comma in the
world is going to change the first version into
the second. But if we weave a little magic with tag placement, then we give the
illusion of a pause. Look at the first line.
“I know, you
make cheese,” Rayph said. “You’re a spy. Named Smear."
Placing “Rayph
said” in the middle of the speech makes the reader pause to read that tag. The
thing about tags is they are almost invisible. If you are reading a
well-written piece, you don’t even notice them. They blow right by you. When
you read that sentence, you don’t even think of the tag. But you have to pause
in the conversation long enough to read it. That one beat, the amount of time
it takes to read that two-word tag, gives the reader just enough of a breath to
make it look like the speaker stopped talking for a moment, thought about what
he would say, and said it.
One tag did
that. It was not punctuation. It was not a really long period or comma that
created the rhythm of the speech. It was a tag.
Let’s keep
looking. I want to take a minute and look at the last part of the dialogue.
Let’s start here:
“I have to
go. Got a thing to do,” Rayph said. He stood and drained his mug. “Thanks for
the tea and,” he motioned to the cheese, “what-have-you.”
I needed a
longer pause between “Got a thing to do” and “Thanks for the tea.” So, I broke
free of the conversation and, just for a breath, described an action. In the
time it takes to read that tiny bit of description, the speaker has taken a long
pause. I do the same thing between “Thanks for the tea and,” and the line
“what-have-you.” In that breath, he has looked
at the cheese and has been unwilling to call it cheese at all. He instead calls
it what-have-you.
But when I throw
in that line of Rayph motioning to the cheese, it gives the idea that he had no
idea what to call it. Was it cheese or some other disgusting thing that he ate?
Without a pause right there, a break in the rhythm of the conversation, we
don’t understand at all.
Great dialogue,
like a well-told story or a perfectly orated speech, is filled with pauses for
dramatic effect. We can’t use those pauses when we write a conversation, but by
using brief spots of description or a well-placed tag, we can create illusions
of that same effect as if we were standing in the room hearing Rayph and Smear
talk about tea and what-have-you.
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