Conversation is research
I’m a shy person and fairly introspective. I need people, but I don’t spend a lot of time seeking them out – I live with the constant fear that if I pursue them, I will bore them (and I REALLY don’t want to be “that friend” that everyone avoids). And, worse, I’m appalling at small-talk. I try, but I’m clumsy at it. Over the years I’ve developed some tools and guidelines to help me out in social situations.
For example, there is a phrase that, when I hear it, sends a tight prickle of fear and despair shooting along my spine. “Hey Craig, we’ve been invited to a party”.
For me, parties are the worst. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE being invited. I just hate being in attendance at one. I don’t know what to do with my hands, for a start. And I’m painfully aware that I’m lousy at small-talk and that small-talk is what everyone in the room is practicing. I desperately want to find a corner somewhere that I can sit in and talk with someone about Schopenhaur or Christology or books or movies or writing – uninterrupted for a minimum of half an hour. And then I want to go home.
As an introvert, my batteries will have been flattened by the first fifteen minutes of interaction and I desperately want somewhere quiet to be, preferably with a bookshelf (or dvd or music shelf) that I can quietly browse while I try to recharge. As a result, I know more about the reading tastes of some of my acquaintances than I do about them personally.
Anyway, I’ve learned a few tricks and insights that help me at parties. The first is that I’ve learned that deep and meaningful conversation is largely unwanted at a party (unless I am lucky enough to stumble on a fellow introverted nerd who shares my tragic passions). Instead, a party exists to help people meet each other and feel out who might be interesting to get to know more fully. The whole point is to circulate, find out what people are into, and arrange to catch up over coffee if it looks like the person is interesting enough, and there’s enough common ground, to try to build a friendship.
This, by the way, is why introverts find the experience so hellish. We’re not samplers. Neither are we any good at delayed gratification. If we meet someone interesting, we want to dive deep, right then and there. But that’s not what parties are for, and so we feel awkward and like a fish out of water and don’t know what to say.
The second thing I’ve learned to do, is to grab a plate or a cup to hide behind. It solves the problem of what to do with my hands. I have no intention of eating what’s on the plate or drinking what’s in the cup (because an empty plate or cup has to be put away to be washed, leaving me without any armor) so I carry it around and my hands are kept busy.
The third thing I’ve learned is a conversation trick called the “conversation stack”. It’s a list of pre-prepared conversation topics that I carry around in my head – I’m not kidding, I really do this. First, I find out your name, your family, who you live with and where (not specifics, I’m not a stalker) and whether you have a pet or pets. Next, I ask about your work and your hobbies/sports/interests. Lastly, I ask about travel – have you been anywhere or done anything interesting? At this point, I’m out of topics and I know it’s time to move on to the next poor soul.
The final thing I’ve learned about parties, is to treat them as research opportunities. I’m a writer and I’ve learned to ask the kind of questions that help me find out if someone is or isn’t interesting – and by the way, everyone is interesting if you can find the right topic or ask the right question.
I’ve learned to avoid the kinds of questions that can be answered with a yes or no. “Do you like fish?” is a conversation stopper. “What’s your favourite place to encounter a fish?” is much more conducive to holding a conversation (generating lots of follow-up questions), but even then, it can be answered with a single word or short phrase (“fishing”, or “at James’ seafood restaurant”. “Why?” isn’t a great question, since it tends to make people defensive so that they feel like they’re being interrogated by their parents.
The best kinds of questions are about action. “What do you think about…?” is not nearly as interesting as “What did you do when…?”. It’s been my experience that people will tell you about themselves in terms of how they want to appear, but their actions reveal who they are. In fact, I’m sure we all know people whose public self-representations and private actions differ markedly. When we encounter someone who can eloquently extoll the virtues of kindness to animals, but goes home and kicks their dog, we inevitably choose to believe the behaviour over the words.
For this reason, “what did you do then?” is a phenomenal question to ask.
“How did you cope when your husband passed away?” leads to answers like “oh, I bore up and carried on as best I could”. But “What did you do when your husband passed away?” leads to answers like “I locked myself in the bedroom for two days, pulled the blankets up around my head, and left the kids to fend for themselves”.
Character is best revealed in drama through action
Drama and the writing of drama is all about capturing the actions that demonstrate character rather than the words that a person says about their own motivations. In audio drama, we have to find a way to “show” those behaviours through dialogue. We can demonstrate a conflict through an argument, but how do we “show” grief? Our grieving wife, locking herself in the bedroom with the covers around her head, works great in a screenplay or stage play, but isn’t quite so well suited to audio drama.
In audio drama, action is made visible through interaction. Characters who are alone, need to give us access to their inner thoughts via monologue – and for many audience members this, while useful in small doses, isn’t as helpful as an exchange between characters.
Compare…
- SOUND: DOORBELL RINGS – DOOR OPENS – LET IT FINISH
- JANE: I just looked at the well-wishers on the doorstep. I already had acres of quiche – enough to survive a Russian winter. They stood there with carefully arranged sympathetic looks on their faces and casserole dishes in their hands and all I could think was how much they looked like they’d signed up for the grieving widow package tour. “See the woman whose husband died in her natural habitat. Feeding time at 2.00 pm”. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I shut the door in their faces.
- SOUND: DOOR CLOSES – LET IT FINISH
With
- SOUND: DOORBELL RINGS – DOOR OPENS – LET IT FINISH
- MARY: (SICKLY SWEET) Good morning Jane, Keith and I were passing and we thought we’d drop in to share our condolences… Isn’t that right, Keith?
- KEITH: Er… yes. Of course. How are you, Jane?
- MARY: I’ll just put this down over here, shall I? Just some quiche I knocked up. Nothing special. (BEAT) Oh. Well, I’m sure you’ll find some room… somewhere.
- JANE: Mary, er… thanks, but, this isn’t…
- MARY: Oh, it’s fine Jane. No need to put on airs for us. We can’t expect the house to be in its usual state now, can we? My, but you have let things go, haven’t you?
- KEITH: Now, Mary…
- MARY: Oh, it’s all right, Keith. Jane isn’t embarrassed, are you dear?
- JANE: (FLUSTERED) I’m sorry, but I just wasn’t expecting…
- MARY: Perfectly, understandable dear. And how are you feeling? You know I was just saying to Keith, that I always felt that John was a little fragile. But even so, suicide? I mean, it’s a messy business, isn’t it?
- (BEAT)
- KEITH: I’m sorry, Jane, I think we’d better—
- MARY: Oh, do stop fussing, Keith. Jane’s fine. And did you say they found him in the kitchen, dear? I couldn’t just have a quick—
- JANE: (COLDLY) I think you should leave, Mary.
- MARY: What?
- JANE: Now. And you, too, Keith.
- KEITH: (EMBARASSED) Of course, Jane. Let me…
- MARY: Well! (OFFENDED) I guess we can tell when we’re not wanted.
- JANE: Yes, I guess you can.
- MARY: Come on, Keith.
- KEITH: (TO JANE) I’m so sorry for your loss…
- MARY: … And I’m taking the quiche.
- DOOR CLOSES – LET IT FINISH.
- JANE: (SOBS) – FADE OUT.
Both approaches work to an extent. The second, I think, demonstrates the action of the first more effectively and communicates the difference between a person’s words and actions. Interaction between characters allows for greater drama than simple narration – though each is effective in its own way.
Internal conflict is also revealed through action
Action is also the means by which internal conflict is revealed without resort to monologue.
Compare…
- CLARKE: I didn’t know which way to turn. The boss needed the plans, and was demanding I put in for overtime, but Anne was ready to walk out. The anniversary dinner was my last chance to show her that I really cared.
With
- BOSS: How are those plans coming along, Clarke?
- CLARKE: They’re coming. We’ve had a cancellation. Our supplier has run out of the double glazing we ordered.
- BOSS: Then find another source. I don’t care how long it takes. Overtime is approved.
- CLARKE: I’m on it.
- SOUND: BOSS WALKS AWAY – FADE.
- JIM (CO-WORKER): But weren’t you meeting Anne for your anniversary tonight.
- CLARKE: Oh, hell. I forgot. I’m supposed to confirm our reservation.
- SOUND: PHONE NUMBER BEING ENTERED – BRIEF PAUSE
- CLARKE: Carlitos’? Yes, I’m confirming a booking for Masters. (BEAT) Yes, 8.00 PM. (BEAT) Thanks.
- JIM: You’ll never make it.
- CLARKE: I have to. Anne’ll do something drastic if I miss another anniversary.
Here we have an internal conflict. Clarke wants to meet his work responsibilities and attend a wedding anniversary dinner with his wife. He takes action in both directions, but the audience knows that, barring a miracle, one or the other of these two objectives can’t be met. By observing Clarke’s action we get an insight into the state of his mind and the internal conflict is “dramatized” for the audience.
In scriptwriting we use dialog to demonstrate action, not merely by telling, but by showing, through interaction, how characters respond to situations. These responses reveal character to the audience.
Copyright Philip Craig Robotham © 2022
