Some Thoughts on Dialog

Believable Dialog

Dialog concentrates meaning.  While speech in real life sprawls and weaves and contradicts itself and follows tangents and gets lost and sometimes finds its way to the point via a circuitous route, dialog (with appropriate allowances for characterisation) homes in on the essential meaning in what is being said.

This is, in my opinion, an essential (if contested) element of dialog writing.  It should feel authentic without being realistic.  Realistic dialog bores the audience.  It’s tendency to meander fails to hold attention.  And in audio drama, failure to hold attention is a cardinal sin.  Efficiency is the key.

As a result, the dialog must feel real while being more efficient than real speech.

So, how is this feeling of reality achieved.  Allowing that this is a subjective judgment, there are some things that automatically reduce the degree to which an audience will believe in the authenticity of our characters’ interactions.

In real life, characters do not reveal to each other what the parties to the conversation already know.  Such talk is empty and feels inauthentic.

• BILL: As you know Emily, we married young and started a family too soon, but always loved each other through it all.

While people do engage in small talk in the real world, it is best for characters in an audio drama to skip small talk and address the point (directly or indirectly) as quickly as possible.  Small talk is a distraction that holds up the story and provides an opportunity for the audience to tune out or, worse, change the channel.

• BILL: Hi.
• JEN: Hi.
• BILL: How are you?
• JEN: Good.  And you?
• BILL: Not bad, considering the weather.

Character emotion must be motivated (via the text or subtext of the scene).  If a character is expressing emotion that the audience cannot explain through the context provided by the scene, it feels inauthentic and will throw the audience out of their willing suspension of disbelief.

• BILL: Happy Birthday, Jenny.  I hope you like it.
• JEN: Oh, it’s lovely.  How did you know?
• BILL: (ENRAGED) How dare you ask that!  How dare you!  You’re nothing but a tramp.  A complete tramp!

Character external knowledge must also be reasonable.  Having characters discuss things (events, ideas, actions, etc.) that they do not have access to is automatically spotted as inauthentic.  This is not to say that a genius character will not work for an audience.  Sherlock Holmes is great fun, but he is not a realistic character and his superhuman ability to know things must be well established for us before we will accept his pronouncements as authentic.  However, when the work of establishing how a character knows something is accomplished, the knowledge expressed does feel authentic (even where it is impossible).

• BOBBY: How was your paper round tonight, Billy?
• BILLY: I didn’t get too wet.
• BOBBY: So, did you think about my question?
• BILLY: Yeah.  Your calculations involve compensating for too many neutrinos.  Reduce the number of neutrinos in your estimate and I think the equation will work.
• BOBBY: You’re a marvel, Billy.  What would I do without you?

Internal knowledge must be reasonable also.  What is true regarding external knowledge is also true regarding internal knowledge.  A character who understands their own stormy sea of internal emotion with perfect insight and expresses this superhuman insight in conversation will not seem authentic (except, as in the case of a Sherlock Holmes of the mind, where this ability has been established ahead of time).

Human beings, with few exceptions, are a mystery to themselves and rarely understand, with complete clarity, their own emotions.

• BILL:    Why are you always so angry?
• JEN:     It’s because of my father.  He always favoured my sister and I could never do enough to please him.  I grew resentful and have internalised it to the extent that I respond to all men this way, now.

Whenever a character expresses knowledge (of themselves or the external world) or emotion for which the audience cannot detect a cause, the audience will likely assume they are hearing the voice of the author speaking rather than the character.

For dialog to feel authentic, it is important to keep a clear distinction between motivation (subtext) and justification (text).  There are many things we will not say out loud, not because they are not true, but because they come from our deepest and least worthy drives.  The murderer who says “I killed him because I wanted his wife for myself” will not seem authentic to the audience (unless motivated, believably, to the admission by circumstances that make the admission less costly than its concealment).  In life people do not come out and admit such things baldly.  Instead they produce justifications.  “She is better off without him”.  “He could not provide for her”. Etc.  We recognize these as excuses, but they feel more authentic than open statements (in part because we recognize the human tendency to rationalise behaviour).  The jaded villain, who is past the point of bothering to rationalise his behaviour, needs to be established for the audience if such, typically, on the nose dialog is to be accepted as authentic.

Exaggeration (of emotion, or action) rarely feels authentic without motivation, but extremes of emotion and action, if properly motivated, will always feel authentic.

Unnecessary ostentation should be avoided.  The desire to create characters that stand out in the imagination of our audience is a worthy one, but a little restraint will help make any ostentation believable.  In the realm of clothing choice, a character might, in our modern world, be able to get away with wearing a large coat with a heavy, old fashioned, mantle.  But push the ostentation too far and believability suffers.  A male character who habitually appears in public in Elizabethan garb (doublet, pantaloons, hosiery) will strain credibility (unless the choice is established in some way to begin with – and even then there is such a thing as “too much”).  Where ostentation becomes too much, it appears to exist for its own sake – drawing attention to itself in a way that breaks the willing suspension of disbelief.

Likewise with dialog.  Dialog can fall in love with itself and draw attention to itself as ostentatious expression.  At the point it does so, we lose our belief in its authenticity.

• BILL: I apologise that I have become so intoxicated with the exuberance of my own verbosity.

The opposite holds true as well.  Language that is so sparse and spare that it has no adornment whatsoever will feel robotic and inauthentic.

• BILL: Give me drink. Give me food.  I need nutrients.

The key is to motivate what comes out of the mouths of our characters appropriately.  The audience must always feel that there is a satisfying reason for what is being said and the way it is being said.  If a character IS a robot, then robotic speech is believable.  It is motivated appropriately.  Improperly motivated dialog will always come across as inauthentic.  To fix such dialog, we must either establish suitable causes for what is being said or, where no sufficient cause can be provided, remove the offending dialog.

The Subject Matter of Dialog

As noted earlier, dialog is action.  It wants to achieve something.  Therefore, dialog starts with a desire and proceeds as a means of achieving that desire.  It adapts according to the environment (to the external obstacles to the achievement of the desire) and according to the personality (to the internal habits of mind and limits that a person places on their speech).

Internal dialogue (the monologue) is a conversation held with oneself.  The most interesting monologues are conflicts.  The personality is at war with itself because two desires are at work and they appear incompatible.

• HAMLET: To be, or not to be, that is the question:
  Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
  The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
  Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
  And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
  No more; and by a sleep to say we end
  The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
  That flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation
  Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
  To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:
  For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
  When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
  Must give us pause—there’s the respect
  That makes calamity of so long life.

Dialog proper, or its most commonly understood form, occurs between two people with differing motivations for the action of speech.  Again the most interesting dialog occurs where the desires of the individuals are incompatible and a conflict is occurring.

• BILL: We’re running out of time.  We have to save the driver.
• KELLY: If we do, those kids will drown.

Alternatively, perhaps the characters’ desires are aligned, but the stakes are too high for direct and open speech (two potential lovers, meeting for the first time, attracted to one another, but tip-toeing around the possibility of a relationship).  In such a case, the dialog is less a game of verbal fencing than an exploration of shared desire through metaphor. Meeting in a library, our two lovers discuss the books they enjoy as a means of exploring their compatibility; the books are incidental, what matters is what is revealed about their mutual needs and expectations for a relationship partner.

• BILL:    What kind of books do you like?
• JEN: Oh, you know.  The dependable sort.  The kind you can put down and pick up again with the same enjoyment you felt the first time you read it.  What about you?
• BILL: Oh, I like a book that thrills you down to your feet.  One that makes you forget there is anyone else in the entire world.  A book that feels like it was written just for you.

The Relationship between Dialog and the Scene

There are numerous reasons why dialog fails.

1. The inner desires or external circumstances of the character do not motivate or explain the action of speech (they appear unconnected and are, as a result, confusing).
2. There is a lack of harmony or balance between the motivations of the character and their expression in dialog (the character appears to be over- or under-reacting, creating a sense that something is off).
3. The language is bland, unfocused, inefficient, and generic (ignoring the rules of expression that would sharpen it to fit its purpose).
4. The dialog ignores the needs of the scene (it fails to build, through conflict, to a turning point).

In a scene where nothing changes, no story purpose is achieved.  Such a scene should be jettisoned.  If our dialog has not contributed to a change in the circumstances of the characters then it has failed to function as action.  A lack of action (resulting in change) is a clear sign that a scene serves no purpose and it is a high crime to leave an audience with no clear answer to the question “what was the point of all that talk?”.

• Dialog must involve some level of conflict (internal, external, both).
• It must build to a climactic crisis in which a significant change occurs.
• It must result in a new goal in which the character seeks to meet their motivating need via a new strategy.

Imagine for a moment that a couple enters a restaurant.  They are having relationship problems.  They sit, eat an enjoyable meal together and go home.

Well written dialog won’t save this scene from failing.  In fact, the scene pretty much guarantees the dialog won’t be well written.  The scene itself is irrelevant, contributing nothing to the story.

• SCENE: (INT) RESTAURANT (EVENING)
  (BILL, JEN)
• SOUND: RESTAURANT AMBIANCE
• BILL: Nice place.
• JEN: Yeah.
• BILL: You want to order?
• JEN: Sure.  I like the look of the duck.
• BILL: Duck it is.
• …
• …
• JEN: Well, that was lovely.
• BILL: Sure was.
• JEN: Shall we head home?
• BILL: Yeah.  I’ll get the car.

The scene is unmotivated.  Why are they visiting the restaurant?  Is it to try to rekindle what they have lost?  Is it to thrash out the details of their separation?  Is it so that one can break the bad news to the other (in a public place where it is less likely to result in a screaming match)?

Let’s give the scene some motivation.  Our characters are trying to give their flagging relationship a boost via a romantic dinner.  They sit, eat an enjoyable meal together and go home.  It is little different from the first scene and just as much a failure.  Why?  There is no conflict.

• SCENE: (INT) RESTAURANT (EVENING)
  (BILL, JEN)
• SOUND: RESTAURANT AMBIANCE
• BILL: It’s been a rough couple of months.
• JEN: Yeah, but this kind of makes up for it.
• BILL: Does it?
• JEN: (TEASING) I’ll keep you posted.
• BILL: You want to order?
• JEN: Sure.  I like the look of the duck.
• BILL: Duck it is.
• …
• …
• JEN: Well, that was lovely.
• BILL: Sure was.
• JEN: Shall we head home?
• BILL: Yeah.  I’ll get the car.

The two characters need to be motivated in different directions.  She must want an admission of his failings, while he must be looking to put the past behind him.  Or he must be struggling with his feelings of betrayal while she is rediscovering what she loved about him in the first place.

The structure of the scene can be improved.  They enter the restaurant seeking to rekindle their flagging romance.  They sit, eat an enjoyable meal together, but every time she tries to take advantage of the romantic setting he redirects the conversation to his own feelings of betrayal.  At the end of the scene they go home.

• SCENE: (INT) RESTAURANT (EVENING)
  (BILL, JEN)
• SOUND: RESTAURANT AMBIANCE
• BILL: It’s been a rough couple of months.
• JEN: Yeah, but this kind of makes up for it.
• BILL: Does it?
• JEN: Sorry, I won’t push.  You want to order?
• BILL: Not yet.  I’m still not comfortable with playing the happy couple again.
• JEN: You remember this place.  The memories are… special.
• BILL: Don’t change the subject.
• JEN: I’m not.  You are.  We came here for this.
• BILL: This what?
• JEN: The atmosphere.  The memories.  The chance to… heal.
• BILL: I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.
• JEN: Try the duck.
• …
• …
• JEN: Well, that was lovely.
• BILL: Was it?
• JEN: I’m trying Bill.  Damnit, that’s what this whole night was supposed to be about. 
• BILL: Let’s head home.

The scene fails, regardless of the dialog, because it achieves no change.  The behavior (and dialog) is motivated, a conflict exists, but no crisis occurs to force a change.

Let’s structure the scene differently again.

• SCENE:            (INT) RESTAURANT (EVENING)
  (BILL, JEN, WAITER)
• SOUND:           RESTAURANT AMBIANCE
• BILL:                It’s been a rough couple of months.
• JEN:                 Yeah, but this kind of makes up for it.
• BILL:                Does it?
• JEN:                 Sorry, I won’t push.  You want to order?
• BILL:                Not yet.  I’m still not comfortable with playing the happy couple again.
• JEN:                 You remember this place.  The memories are… special.
• BILL:                Don’t change the subject.
• JEN:                 I’m not.  You are.  We came here for this.
• BILL:                This what?
• JEN:                 This atmosphere.  The memories.  The setting.  The chance to… heal.
• BILL:                I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.  We need to talk about what happened.  You owe me that much.
• JEN:                 I owe you… At least meet me half way.  Take a look at the menu.
• BILL:                I don’t think so.  I didn’t come here to participate in another of your stage-managed farces.
• JEN:                 But Bill…
• BILL:                I’m moving out, Jen.  I’m going back to the apartment to pack a bag.
• JEN:                 Please, Bill.  Just look at the menu.
• BILL:                Did you even hear me Jen.  I’m leaving.  We’re done.
• JEN:                 No, Bill please.  Take a look at the…
• BILL:                Goodbye Jen.
• SOUND:           BILL GETS UP AND LEAVES.
• WAITER:          (BEAT) I’m sorry, miss.  This fell out of the menu.
• JEN:                 Oh.  Uh… thanks Angelo.  The letter won’t be needed now.  Bill’s gone. He never saw it.

The couple’s relationship is flagging.  She wants to try again via a night at a restaurant.  He has been feeling betrayed.  He wants to talk about it.  She wants to take advantage of the setting to reignite the sense of romance they have lost.  Every time he tries to raise the issue, she deflects to a discussion of the setting, trying to get him to notice the menu.  He gets more frustrated.  She wants to leave the past behind.  She invites him to immerse himself in the mood of their setting, to see the effort she has gone to, to notice the menu in which she has placed a letter in which she has tried to address his issues.  But he keeps focusing on himself.  Nothing is going the way she had hoped.  At last he gets up, declaring that it is hopeless and that he is going to move out.

Now we have a scene.  The dialog in such a scene needs to build via the conflict, through what is said, and left unsaid, to the crisis that instigates a change: he moves out.  The status quo is broken.  Now she must establish a new goal or perhaps she will maintain the old goal, pursuing it via a new strategy.

We can rewrite our dialog forever and a day and we won’t save a scene that is structurally flawed.  But if our scene structure is sound, then it will be improved by careful dialog.

Characterisation

The first voice we express ourselves in is our own.  As a result, our characters tend to speak with variations of our voice as well. It is a common complaint against writers of drama (even against some of the best in the business) that characters sound too much alike.

It is not an easy thing to cure.  Characters get their unique style of speech from the world in which they are immersed (their job and home life), the people they interact with (bosses vs. friends, etc.), their up-bringing (the knowledge and experiences that shapes their expression), their personalities and traits (loud, passive aggressive, shrill, histrionic, mild, laconic, taciturn, etc.) and their own linguistic quirks (the catchphrases and habitual expressions that uniquely identify them).

Planning Character

Identity is expressed in language.

To give your character his or her unique voice start by considering the character’s background and ethnicity.

Does the character speak with an accent?  Is there no accent, but they speak with the careful precision of someone raised with another native tongue.  Is there English broken or shaped by a regional dialect?  Is their vocabulary that of someone who has been highly educated?  Do they speak in a manner that betrays little education?  What family sayings have they picked up?

Next consider the character’s personality and beliefs.

What impact do their beliefs have?  Would they swear?  Is blasphemy something they would use?  Do they employ the language of a specific subculture (Muslim, Christian, Existentialist, Budhist, Scientologist, Baseball fan, Gambler etc.)?

Is the character loud, quiet, loquacious, taciturn, thoughtful, impulsive, active, lazy, passive, enthusiastic, jaded, innocent, apathetic, etc.?  What impact does this have on how they talk?

Consider the language of the workplace.

What specific knowledge does the character have that shapes the way they think and seeps into their speech?  Accountants refer to “the bottom line”.  Sports-folk refer to “own goals”.  Detectives talk about “liking” someone for a crime.  A mechanic might refer to “blowing a gasket”.

People use different registers in different spaces.  Someone might use “sir” when addressing the boss, but “mate” when addressing their next-door neighbor.  Alternatively, they might only ever use an honorific (such as Mr. or Mrs.).  Depending on their personality, they might resent social distinctions and be at pains never to directly draw attention to them.

What specific catch-phrases does the character have that sets them apart.  Do they say “Jinkies” like Velma Dinkley or exclaim “flummery” like Nero Wolfe.  Do they refer to things as being “elementary” like Sherlock Holmes or habitually respond with the word “indeed” like Gandalf the Gray.  Of course, you want to invent something unique to your own character.  Borrowing something from another character will, of course, appear hackneyed and cliché.

Once you have the answers to these questions, it can be helpful to record the habitual but unique things that your character says.

What does your character say when they are surprised?  Hurt?  Angry?  Frustrated?  Joyful?  Happy? Sad? Etc.

Example

Gwen Ross holds a Phd. in herpetology (the study of reptiles) and speaks with a southern accent.  She’s highly educated, and quite the snob regarding it.  She speaks condescendingly to others and frequently employs sarcasm.  Her language is academic.  She uses the word “ophidian” when she means snake, in part because she thinks in the terms of her academic discipline, and in part because understanding the term is a shibboleth for determining whether others are worth her time.  She uses famous theorists in the study of reptiles to swear by (“What, in the name of Louis Aggaziz, is going on?”).  She addresses people formally (Mr. Mrs. Etc.) but only because she requires people to acknowledge her status as Dr. Gwen Ross.  She uses phrases like “balderdash” to express disagreement and expresses pleasure only in a muted manner (never wanting others to feel too happy with themselves) with terms such as “very satisfactory”.

Expressing Character

In general, nouns and verbs express a character’s intellectual life (what they know) while modifiers (adverbs, adjectives, and modalities) express the emotional life and personality (what they feel and how they express themselves).

A character who knows little about a subject will use generic nouns and refer to a surgeon’s knife rather than a scalpel.  A character with specific expertise in chemistry will refer to a Schlenk flask while someone without might refer to the same piece of equipment (incorrectly) as a narrow jar.

In the same way that nouns reveal knowledge, verbs do as well.

A character who describes someone in generic terms gives the impression of knowing less about the person than someone who is being specific.  To say someone “walked across the room” suggests that, while the action was noticed, it wasn’t given much attention.  To say someone “flounced across the room” or “slunk across the room” or even “strode across the room” suggests more attention was paid, and by implication suggests the watcher knows more.

Adjectives reveal personality.  The person who describes a zeppelin as “big” is likely to be of quite a different temperament to someone who describes it as “huge”, “enormous” or “stupendous”.

Likewise the choice of adverb reveals different things about a character.  The character who says someone spoke “loudly” is revealing a quite different personal reaction to the speech than a character who says someone spoke “ferociously”.

It is generally best to avoid the passive voice, but in terms of characterisation it can be useful as a way of revealing personality.  Someone who explains that “my wife planned the party” is likely of a different disposition to someone who explains that “the party was planned by my wife”.

In an earlier discussion on verbs (the series of articles on grammar for audio-writers) I neglected to mention modal verbs.  These also express personality.  Modal verbs are used to express possibility or necessity and include words such as “could, should, must, will, shall, might, and may”.  The character who says “people should care for one another” is likely quite different from one who says “people must learn to treat each other more kindly”.

The unique words character’s use, peppered throughout their speech in the unique way in which they use them, gives each character his/her own voice.  The character’s inner desires (what they wish to achieve) determines what they attempt to say and when they say it.

One last point worth making is that characters use shorter sentences when under pressure and longer sentences when relaxed.  You can convey a lot about the power relationships in a conversation by your choice of who gets to speak longer, more relaxed sentences and who speaks in clipped, short, terse speech.

Dialog is Motivated Action

As stated above, dialog is action.  Not in the sense of a car chase or a fight, but in the sense that speech is a means of trying to achieve a goal.  In audio drama, dialog is the primary way in which our characters express action.  But dialog is also motivated action; action (in terms of the specific verbal strategies employed) that arises from internal desires and needs (both conscious and unconscious) and the constraints (personal, and environmental) placed on that action.

Every character is motivated by over-arching, long-term, goals and in-the-moment (short-term goals).  Bob wants to secure custody of his son (long-term) and in-the-moment wants, despite his insolvency, to convince a lawyer to take him on as a client (short-term).

On top of this, every character is motivated consciously (by what they think they want) and unconsciously (by what they, most deeply, need – though they may be unaware of it).  Bob wants to provide for his son, who has been abandoned by his mother.  Bob needs to be seen, despite a long string of failures and humiliations, as a success – a responsible person, capable of raising a child; the father figure that he never had himself.

And on top of this are the constraints (environmental and internal) that are forcing and restraining action.  If Bob is non-confrontational, perhaps he will attempt to manipulate with his speech, seeking pity, or engaging in emotional blackmail (internal/personal constraints).  If Bob is afraid of looking like a bad person in his son’s eyes, he might avoid engaging in illegality or bribery to achieve his aims (external/environmental constraints).  Again this is reflected in dialog.

Scenes test the Character’s Agency (or ability and willingness to act)

Let’s suppose that Bob (from our example above) has entered the lawyer’s office.  He is hopeful that he will be able to get things underway so that he can gain custody of his son but he’s also aware that his financial resources are almost non-existant.  Let’s also suppose that the lawyer is something of a thin-skinned shark, who, when he identifies someone who can’t pay, enjoys humiliating them, safe in the knowledge they will never be his clients.  The dialog these characters engage in will test the constraints on Bob’s action that his personality and environment create.  Will Bob, when encountering the road-blocks created by the money-hungry lawyer, be able to secure his aid? Or will he be forced to compromise his principles for the sake of expediency?  Or will it all go horribly wrong?  The obstacles will test his character and the limits of his power (ability to influence the outcome).  His primary actions will be revealed in the dialog.

Given that Bob enters the encounter in a hopeful frame of mind, it goes without saying that the turn that must be embedded in this particular scene will leave him defeated regardless of the outcome.

• SCENE:            (INT) LAWYER’S OFFICE (MID MORNING)
•                         (LAWYER – MR. THORNTON, BOB, JONATHAN)
• SOUND:           DOOR CLOSES.
• LAWYER:         Is your boy comfortable in the waiting room, Mr. Webb?
• BOB:                He’s fine.  He shouldn’t hear none of our talk. 
• LAWYER:         As you wish.  He’ll be watched by my security.
• BOB:                I thought that guy looked outta place.  Big side of beef, ain’t he?
• LAWYER:         His name’s Jonathan.  This isn’t the safest of neighbourhoods.  (BEAT) Have a seat.  What can I do for you today?
• BOB:                I hear you’re a pretty good lawyer.
• LAWYER:         I earn my fee.
• BOB:                Good.  It’s about my boy that I’m here.  I need custody.
• LAWYER:         Custody, hmmmm?  It’s a lengthy and expensive business.
• BOB:                Things are pretty bad for him.
• LAWYER:         And you can pay?
• BOB:                I’d like to talk things over, at least.
• LAWYER:         We’ll come to that, Mr. Webb.  You need to know, off the bat, that I charge by the hour.
• BOB:                I was told you do work, here, on the poor side o’ town.
• LAWYER:         The “poor side of town”, as you put it, provides me with a good deal of money.
• BOB:                Uh-huh.  My boy is with his mom, officially.  But she’s always on a drunk and he spends most of his time with his Grandma.
• LAWYER:         You still haven’t told me if you can pay my fee, Mr. Webb.
• BOB:                But she’s old.  And her mind ain’t what it was.
• LAWYER:         Mr. Webb?
• BOB:                She damn near torched the house last week.
• LAWYER:         Mr. Webb.  You’re already on the clock and, whatever you’ve heard, I don’t work for free.  My rate is $160.00 an hour.  Can you meet it?
• BOB:                Ain’t you listening?  My boy’s in danger living with her.
• LAWYER:         I’ll take that as a “no” then.
• BOB:                Where’s a man s’posed to get that kind o’ money, anyway?
• LAWYER:         Borrow it.  The law’s not a charity, Mr Webb. For all I care, steal it. 
• BOB:                (SHOCKED) Steal it?  (BEAT) You’re not going to help me at all, are you?
• LAWYER:         If you think my help can be obtained without proper remuneration, then no.  You can pick up your bill on the way out.
• BOB:                Out?  Now you’re throwing me out?  I come here for help and you throw me out?
• LAWYER:         That’s about the sum of it.
• BOB:                Like garbage?  Just like that?
• LAWYER:         (SMIRKING) Stop it.  You’re embarrassing yourself.
• BOB:                It’s not the law as lacks charity, Mr. Thornton.  That’s your own shyster’s choice.
• LAWYER:         (BEAT – COLD SILENCE)
• SOUND:           BUZZER – LET IT FINISH.
• LAWYER:         (TO THE INTERCOM) Jonathan, would you come in here please?  Mr. Webb is refusing to leave.
• BOB:                Now, wait…
• LAWYER:         I don’t take kindly to insults, Mr. Webb.
• SOUND:           DOOR OPENS.
• JONATHAN:     You need me, Mr. Thornton?
• LAWYER:         Yes, Jonathan.  Mr. Webb is leaving. Now.
• BOB:                I’ll see myself out.
• LAWYER:         I’ don’t think so.  (BEAT – THEN TO JONATHAN) Jonathan, you go ahead and drag him out of here.  By the feet if you have to.  Drag him past that boy in the waiting room and dump him in the street “like garbage”.  Make sure you give him a few lumps for his trouble.  And throw the bill after him.
• BOB:                No. I… Urk…
• SOUND:           SCUFFLE – DOOR SLAMS – THEN SILENCE.

From a dramatic point of view, in a conflict between a relatively weak individual (Bob) who is trying to salvage what’s left of his pride and a powerful one (Mr. Thornton) who enjoys throwing his privilege around, getting a poke in (by calling Thornton a “shyster”), will always be met with overwhelming retaliation.  The more Bob tries to salvage some dignity, the more humiliation will be dolled out in response.  Thin-skinned sharks always smell blood in the water – and they don’t take slaps from their prey.  The dialog demonstrates this.

In the first half of the conversation, Bob wants to explain his need, to be heard, and to convince the lawyer to help.  Mr. Thornton wants only to determine Bob’s ability to pay.  It is the only thing he cares about.  When Bob realises this, he vents his frustration on an impassive Mr. Thornton who appears, despite his protests, to enjoy the sight of Bob’s humiliation.  When Bob lands an insult, Thornton’s pleasure turns to anger and he inflicts a punishing humiliation upon Bob.

The conflict and dialog grow, as action, directly out of the character’s needs (conscious and unconscious) and the strategies he is prepared to employ in their pursuit (playing the pity card, trying to salvage some pride with a – frankly weak – insult) revealed as they clash with the obstacles in the scene (the lawyer’s focus on his fee and his pettiness).  The dialog is action, an expression of the character’s strategies for gaining what he wants in the face of opposition.

The situation and relative power of the obstacles being faced and their amenability to influence by the strategies (in speech) that are employed, test the character’s agency and essential nature.  At the end of such a test, if written reasonably well, change has occurred, the plot is advanced, and we know the character more fully. This is the power of dialog.

Copyright Philip Craig Robotham © 2021 .

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