Tip O'Day #444 - Really? Did I Ask For That?

Guest blogger Gary Ponzo on “Do You Really Need an Editor?”

Recently I've had some opportunities to work with editors for my published novels. Now, I've always worked with a critique group who would line-edit each chapter as I was writing, so I've been conscious of the importance of a keen eye to scrutinize my work. After I finished each book I would have an editor go through the manuscript for grammatical errors and that was helpful as well. But as time went on my books began to expand to Germany and audio rights and print options, I felt compelled to have my work fully edited by a professional editor. Why not?

Well, here's what happened with me. And let me state right now, these opinions are completely my own and have no bearing on the competence or abilities of editors. I truly believe they serve a real purpose, especially in a day when Indies are trying to compete with traditionally published books. There's a real need to look and sound and smell professional.

First of all, I had one editor go through my work and I noticed a trend. The editor kept adding semicolons. Everywhere. No kidding, maybe one every other page. My eyes began to gloss up from the interruption of rhythm. My sentences no longer flowed into each other. They now had a “;” to remind us we were actually reading words instead of a story. Okay, that's a personal choice, I get it. Maybe even technically correct. But that wasn't how I intended the prose to sound to the reader's ear.

Then I had another editor actually change the language one of my characters spoke in dialogue. This character was in the mafia and the editor was correcting his grammar. Changing his words to the point where he sounded like an English professor instead of a hitman. I began having questions thrown at me from the editor like, "I don't understand his motive here? Why can't you explain this better?" Well, the truth is, it would've ruined the plot. So then I started second-guessing my plot. Should I change it so the reader has full understanding? But I've left plenty of foreshadowing? It was paralyzing. I wrote three page over the next month because I was afraid to write freely.

So, do you need an editor? Almost certainly, but I would set some parameters. Tell the editor what you're looking for and exactly what you're not looking for. I think I've found someone who fits that description and I will use that person on the remainder of my novels.

When you work with an editor, just know what to expect when that page full of red ink paralyzes you. Trust yourself to know when the advice is sound and when it's opinion. Sometimes, that's not easy to distinguish.

Tip O'Day #442 - Slang in Literature

Guest blogger Uvi Poznansky on Pyramus and Thisby.

You may recall the play-in-a-play, performed by the rude mechanics at the end of Midsummer Night's Dream, aptly described in their own words as 'The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.' These would-be actors, whose ability to express themselves is unabashedly mocked by their audience, are used by Shakespeare mainly for comic relief. The play they perform is merely a farce of the Romeo and Juliet love story. Why, you may ask? Because like most artists and playwrights of that era, the Bard knew only too well that he ought to entertain and compliment his patrons, the most important of which were members of the royal court. This is the reason that characters who speak in slang were nearly never placed center-stage, as the hero of the story. Such characters were portrayed as simpletons, and by no means were they given any depth of feeling.

It was only later in the history of literature that characters of the lower class were taken seriously, and their point of view began to resonate, despite much controversy, with readers and theatre goers. For example, between 1961-1982, The Catcher in the Rye was the most censored book in high schools and libraries in the United States. Yet now it is recognized as an American classic, giving voice to teenage confusion, angst, alienation and rebellion. Even today, there are two clashing views about the use of slang-talking characters, one from those who see themselves as upscale, educated nobility -- and the other, the more democratic one, from the rest of us.

Recently I was reminded of this clash, when I posted an excerpt from Apart From Love in Anita's voice. You would be hard-pressed to find a three-syllable word in anything she says. The lack of long words is compensated by descriptive sequence of short words (see the replacement for ‘magnifying glass’ below.) You can spot a liberal use of the dreaded double-negative, and of the word like. In the excerpt she describes the memory of her first kiss with Lenny. Some readers told me, tongue-in-cheek, that they would need a cold shower by the time she completes her story. But one reader found the style of the excerpt inconsistent. He complained that at times Anita is lyrical, and at other times her thoughts are expressed in slang.

As a side note, let me share a little secret: even though that reader rejected the excerpt on intellectual grounds (which he is entitled to do), he did get it on an intuitive level. How do I know this? Because the very same day I got a 'romantic' invitation from him to join a social network for setting up dates. So, Anita's hot description did its charm on him, and for some reason, he must have combined to two of us in his mind. I had a little chuckle about this, as did my loved one...

So why can't a character combine both? Are we still bound to write for the Pyramus and Thisby audience? Even if your grammar is atrocious, even if your vocabulary is somewhat lacking, does that mean you can't feel the throes of pain, or the exhilaration of joy? Does it mean you can't paint what you see, feel and think? As you form your own answer, I invite you to sense the texture and the power of unrefined language, by listening to Anita's voice once more:

What matters is only what’s here. I touch my skin right under my breasts, which is where the little one’s curled, and where he kicks, ‘cause he has to. Like, he don’t feel so cosy no more. Here, can you feel it? I reckon he wants me to talk to him. He can hear me inside, for sure. He can hear every note of this silvery music.

It ripples all around him, wave after wave. I can tell that it’s starting to sooth him. It’s so full of joy, of delight, even if to him, it’s coming across somewhat muffled. Like a dream in a dream, it’s floating inside, into his soft, tender ear.

I close my eyes and hold myself, wrapping my arms real soft — around me around him — and I rock ever so gently, back and forth, back and forth, with every note of this silvery marvel. You can barely hear me — but here I am, singing along. I’m whispering words into myself, into him.

You can learn more about Uvi Poznansky at her Amazon author page or her blog.

Tip O'Day #438 - More Writing Rules

Author, blogger, columnist and writing teacher HMC is today’s guest blogger on “Don’t Tell Me What to Write” (Part II of II).

Killing a New Scene: Do you want to be the next Scorsese? No? Then here is how to move away from dialogue overkill. Atmosphere is crucial.

Before my students write a story (oh, I’m a teacher by the way, can you tell?) I always get them to imagine. I ask where they are and get them to write everything that they see, then hear, smell, taste, touch and feel. If you are ever stuck on describing a setting, this is a wonderful exercise.

Setting: Graveyard

See: stone, grey, cracks, shadows.
Hear: wind, trees rustling.
Taste: salt from tears.
Smell: damp earth.
Touch: hard and smooth.
Feel: sorrow, mourning, heavy.

Becomes

Long shadows were cast over the stone graves, and I could taste the salt of my tears as I mourned for my father. The wind rustled the trees. I smelt the damp earth underfoot. Cracks formed in the older graves, but his was smooth and new. The heaviness of his passing weighed a tonne upon my shoulders and it was difficult to drag myself away.

Building Suspense with a Packed-Punch: Ever feel deflated by a climactic scene? Perhaps the story was there, but why did the suspense not quite peak as it should have? It could be to do with the sentences — shorter, sharp sentences pack-a-punch. Also, try to end some sentences with a strong word. Take a long, descriptive piece and slash it. See what happens.

The corridor seemed endless and he could hear the soft engines of the station wagons, work-utes and family vans that purred along the street in front of the old, Fairholmes, arcade building. Perhaps he could make it out in time, and perhaps the daylight would be his saviour from the man who was chasing him. Close now, he could feel a rush of adrenaline, but it was too late; the man was gaining on him now. Damon wrapped an arm around his throat and took him to the ground, scattering the resident cockroaches.

‘Relax, Doc. I’m not gonna hurt you. We just have some questions for you.’ The doctor’s body went limp and he let his assailant win the battle.

Becomes

The corridor seemed endless. He could hear the soft engines of the station wagons, work-utes and family vans. They purred along the street in front of him. If he could just make it out into the daylight, visibility might be his saviour. Close now, he felt one last rush of adrenaline. Too late. He felt the heat and smelled the sweat of the man gaining on him. Damon wrapped a strong arm around his throat and took him down. The two men grappled, raising clouds of dust and scattering the resident roaches.

‘Relax, Doc. I’m not gonna hurt you.’ His body went limp. Damon won the battle. ‘We just have some questions for you.’

Streamlining Sentences: I’ll be the first to admit that I have to work hard at my writing. Stories come to me easily, though, which is lucky. Some people are the other way around. My sentence structure often needs work as I am a waffler. It’s why I received mixed marks at uni — some liked my waffling, others didn’t. As a rule now, I check each sentence and remove excess. Streamline is the word my editor uses, and I love it.

Freddy started to sneak out the door to evade any trouble that would come, if Anne were to notice them missing, but Sam caught him.

Becomes

But before he could make good his escape, Sam caught him.

You see, the readers already knew that Freddy was sneaking around and that Anne might catch him. So the first sentence is not only confusing, it’s redundant. Using ‘started to’ or ‘began to’ is useless… either they are doing it or they are not. These tentative words bog writing down.

Well, that’s all for now. I could keep going, but I’ll pass it over to you. If you have any more that you know of, please, add them to the comments section!

You can learn more about HMC at her website http://www.hmcwriter.com/ with links to her blog as well as the trailer for her thriller White Walls, which is having its online release during June 21-23.

As a reminder, guest bloggers wanting to share tips or stories of their writing triumphs/ordeals are always welcome. Please email me at montananovels@yahoo.com

Tip O'Day #437 - I've seen how the rules worked for you...

Guest blogger author, columnist and teacher HMC on “Don’t Tell Me What to Write” (Part I of II).

I am overwhelmed with writing rules, just like I was when my daughter was born and all of a sudden everyone was an expert at parenting. No offense, loves, but I’ve seen how your kids turned out.

There are rules that some writers should follow and others should not. You know your capabilities. Take the rules that work for you. Someone once told me that it’s lazy to use brackets (as if I’d listen…I love brackets).

I am going to talk about what I have personally learnt from my amazing editor and mentor, Carson Buckingham, and some others here and there along the way. These are MY rules, not yours, so follow them… or don’t. I honestly don’t care.

You guys are getting an exclusive peek at my book today, as I use some short excerpts as examples — lucky.

Here are some nerdy things I’ve been practicing lately, in order to become a better writer.

The Adverse Adverb: We all know how terrible adverbs are when you can use a stronger verb instead — well I didn’t, but I do now. Take a verb and adverb, and then try to create a stronger verb. Then, the adverb becomes redundant (What? Can you repeat that?) Here ‘tis:

Hit hard = slammed
Touched softly = caressed
Moved clumsily = clattered

And backwards for fun:

Stressed = terribly concerned
Gawked = looked closely

Sentence play:

The door slowly opened = the door creaked open
The nurse was overly round = the rotund nurse

See the difference?

Underestimating Dialogue: Dialogue shmialogue! No, really, dialogue is your friend, not your enemy. If you find yourself reading a book and think ‘booooooooring,’ take the challenge and write the scene as dialogue between the characters. If you already do this too much (and your stories read like scripts) skip this one and go straight to ‘Killing a New Scene’ (in Part II tomorrow). Here is one — just for fun.

The policeman stood outside the building and waited to be buzzed-in to the apartment building. He argued forever with George, who simply refused to let him in. The policeman was getting mad as a hornet’s nest, and would soon crack it, and kick the door in.

Becomes

‘What do you want!’ George snapped through the speaker.
‘Let me up. I have a warrant.’
‘Do you have donuts too? How about bacon?’ George cackled.
‘Not funny. You have thirty seconds before I kick this door in.’
‘Go ahead officer, make my day.’

Ha! I threw that last line in for good measure. Dialogue tells a story and notice that I didn’t have to use ‘he said’ all the time? Good dialogue shows who the speaker is.

Look for Part II of HMC's writing advice tomorrow.

Has anyone noticed that Dixon hasn't been blogging lately? The Wredheaded Writer blog froze up harder than a banker's heart and it took nearly a month to fix it. But now, life is good once more.

One-Sentence Writing Tips, Part IV

This is Day Four of One-Sentence Writing Tips Week, with FB writers and other book lovers combining advice with brevity.

Jackie Pelham: It will never see daylight if you stick it in a drawer, so submit, submit, submit.

Jimmy Pudge: You need at least one asshole in your story for it to be good.

Freddie Remza: Read dialogue aloud to be sure it sounds natural.

Dixon Rice: Find ways to get extra eyes on your work before it’s submitted or published – but not anyone you sleep with.

Linda Robinson: How to cook a novel: stir together a house of lives, a lot of love, tons of troubles, wonderful words, and a rash of revisions, then 'beat' well and bake until done.

These one-sentence tips will continue Friday and Saturday. Tomorrow’s featured folks are J.T. Sather, Paul M. Schofield, awesome Laura Schultz, lit agent Michael Snell and screenwriter Mike Snyder.

Tip O'Day #346 - He Said, She Said

Guest blogger Pat Bertram on dialogue attributions that don’t drive readers crazy.

I recently tried to read a thriller by a best-selling author, but I could never get into the story. It was all action and talk, without much substance. Even worse were his speaker attributes. His characters never just said something. They agreed, cautioned, reminded, mimicked, answered, contributed, guessed, explained, responded, admonished, confessed, encouraged, clarified, blurted, pointed, winced, replied, corrected, acknowledged, returned, laughed, challenged, chided, objected, contested, quipped, offered, moaned, complained, repeated, stammered, pleaded, inquired, mumbled, interrupted, confirmed, addressed, countered, advised, completed, allowed, supplied, ordered, asked, continued, chided, answered, whispered, teased, requested, hollered, echoed, declared, informed, spoke, bellowed, spit out, thundered, hissed. All within a few pages. Whew!

The best speaker attribute, as we all know, is the word “said.” Like “the,” our brains barely register it, so it doesn’t yank us out of the story world. But the few times this thriller writer used “said,” he ruined it with an adverb. A professional, he should know that the only time to use an adverb with “said” is when the character’s words are at odds with his mood, such as: “I had a great time,” he said sadly.

In many cases, the writer would have been better leaving off the speaker attributes entirely, particularly when the dialogue was between two characters. It’s not difficult for a reader to figure out which character is talking when there are only two of them. And, to remind us who is talking, all the writer would have had to do was in insert an occasional beat.

Beats, those small actions that accompany a character’s dialogue, help set the stage, tell us about the character’s personality, and vary the rhythmn of the dialogue. Overdone, the beats are as distracting as any other speaker attribute, so the secret is to pay attention to the flow. Do you want short snappy dialogue? Don’t use beats. Do you want to slow things down a bit, keep the dialogue from seeming too disembodied? Use a few beats.

It’s hard to write crowd scenes and keep each character identified without resorting to copious “said”s, but beats keep the scene moving and, if you use beats that are specific to your character, you make them come alive.

This excerpt from my novel Daughter Am I, published by Second Wind Publishing, shows the use of beats. The scene is between my hero Mary, a young woman in search of her grandparents’ murderer, and a group of feisty octogenarians who are trying to help:

The man stopped bouncing and let his arms drop to his sides. Now that he stood relatively still, Mary could see he was skinnier than she’d first thought. A gray slouch hat tilted toward one eye, but the baggy pants cinched high above his waist and the bright flowery shirt several sizes too large marred the jaunty effect. His hands shook uncontrollably. Parkinson’s disease?

“You must be Happy,” she said.

Frowning, Happy patted his torso. “Must I be happy?” His voice deepened to what Mary assumed was his normal tone. “Can I be happy? Can anyone truly be happy?"

“His name is Barry Hapworth,” Kid Rags said, flicking a bit of lint off his navy pinstriped suit jacket. “For several obvious reasons, everyone calls him Happy.”

Mary glanced from the bus to Happy. “Were you driving this thing?”

Happy puffed out his meager chest. “Sure was.”

“And did you almost run over Mrs. Werner’s cat?”

“I’ll take the fifth.” Happy paused for a fraction of a second. “A fifth of bourbon.”

“Did someone say bourbon?” Kid Rags removed the flask from his hip pocket, took a swig, and passed it around.

“Who are all these people?” Bill asked from behind Mary.

Mary turned, wondering how she could explain the situation, but Teach saved her the trouble and made the introductions. Arms still folded across his chest, Crunchy nodded to Bill, then stepped close to Mary. Happy punched the air, but stopped when Bill showed no inclination to fight.

Kid Rags shook Bill’s hand. “You’re a lucky man.”

“What are you all doing here?” Mary asked. “I was supposed to pick you up. And why is Happy here?”

“Happy is a friend of Kid Rags,” Teach began, but Kid Rags interrupted him, saying hastily, “Not a friend. Just a fellow I know.”

“Happy knows someone who knows Iron Sam,” Teach continued, “and since we knew your car wasn’t big enough for all of us, we accepted Happy’s offer to drive us in his bus.”

“Who’s Iron Sam?” Bill asked, sounding plaintive.

“Butcher Boy,” Kid Rags said.

Bill’s eyebrows drew together. “Butcher Boy? Mary, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Mary laughed, suddenly feeling lighthearted and carefree. “I haven’t a clue.”

One Sentence Writing Tips: #5 of 5

This has been a fun week, sharing “one sentence writing tips” from a wide range of FB friends – from literary agent Michael Snell, to newbies, to Amazon bestseller Kathy Dunnehoff, everybody had interesting, sometimes hilarious suggestions. Here’s the final five:

Michael Snell - “Good writers need editors more than bad writers; the best writers need the best editors.”

Linda Swink - “Never trust speel check.”

Peggy Zabicki - “Before you even pick up a pen, sit down and day dream.”

Kathy Rowe - ‎"If you don't know anything about it: RESEARCH!"

Dixon Rice – “If you could use improvement at writing dialogue, challenge yourself by drafting a screenplay.”

One Sentence Writing Tips: #2 of 5

This week, we are looking at "one sentence writing tips" sent in by my FB friends.

Conda Douglas - “Set your work aside for a while before you edit, and you'll see a lot more with fresher eyes.”

Nick du Plessis - “Editors are like manners; select few can succeed without them, but most people need them.”

Cynthia Echterling - “To get a feel for dialogue, eavesdrop in places where real people carry on conversations -- truck stops, airports, bars.”

Terry W. Ervin II - “You have absolutely zero chance for success if you don't ever complete a project.”

By the way, there is still room for a couple more "one sentence writing tips" later in the week. E-mail your tip to me at montananovels@yahoo.com - thanks!

Tip O'Day for Writers #108

Guest blogger Cynthia Echterling on making dialogue realistic.

Many authors will tell you to read - a lot. Well, when you get done with that, get off your duff and go out where there's real people. Listen to them! Eavesdrop on the drivers at the nearest truck stop, the young couple at Starbucks, the family with the unruly kids at McDonalds, old farmers at some small town restaurant, business types on their cell phones. It doesn't matter what they're talking about. Listen to how they express themselves. Notice the differences of regional dialect, ages, occupations. It's fascinating.

Realistic dialogue brings your characters to life.

Fear of Heights

I used to have a terrible fear of heights. Whether standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon or looking out a window on a skyscraper, I’d get a queasy feeling deep in my gut and a lightheaded sensation between my ears. Don’t even talk to me about airliner takeoffs and landings. But I finally overcame it.

You see, I volunteered for airborne training in the U.S. Army. Jumping out of perfectly good airplanes and all that.

As writers, we all have aspects of our craft that are stronger and weaker than others. Writing dialogue was a real problem for me when I first tried my hand at fiction. Terribly stilted and everybody sounded the same. My critique group pointed this out. Their suggestions: study good dialogue writers and practice a lot.

So I read a lot of Elmore “Dutch” Leonard, Robert B. Parker, Walter Mosley, Carl Hiaasen, Max Barry and Richard Price. Also, I took my faithful yellow pad out to coffee in the morning, and wouldn’t leave the coffee house until I’d written at least a couple pages of dialogue. No narrative. No attributions. Just pure dialogue.

Gradually, I improved Maybe I’m wrong, but now I feel that dialogue has become one of my strengths.

Because I worked at it.

Don't Know Much...

...about History - got a snappy beat, doesn't it?

Like the old saw, "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like," we often have a hard time defining the difference between great writing and so-so prose, but we sure as heck know what we like to read: action and dialogue.

If you catch yourself nodding off in the middle of a chapter, what do you do? Usually, your eyes start scrolling down through those dense paragraphs until you come upon (1) Somebody saying something exciting, (2) Somebody punching somebody, or (3) Somebody ripping someone's clothes off.

Perhaps I exaggerate. But not much. Few of us pick up a volume of Socrates or Aristotle when we desire a couple hours of diversion, because one Deep Thought after another starts to make our hair hurt. It's different, though, when the Deep Thoughts arise as a result of choices the protagonist is forced to make, demonstrated by his actions instead of lectures from on high. For example, what if the grandson of long-dead Socrates were to challenge Aristotle to a duel because of an insult by Aristotle's mentor, Plato? (Of course, the grandson would be secretly involved in an affair with the daughter of Aristotle.) To show Artistotle choosing pacifism when a hot-blooded, testosterone-driven teenager is holding a dagger to his neck, might be a bit more compelling than page after page of philosophical whertofores.

Especially if you're writing commercial fiction. But even in the rarified regions of literary fiction, there is a resurgence of "story" if we can believe the latest issue of New Yorker - you know, plot, things happening to interesting people, and the consequences thereof.

Anyway, this writer sometimes yearns to critique stories that are acted out by quirky characters with opposing goals in exotic locales, instead of being trapped inside the protagonist's skull for thousands upon thousands of words.

Dialogue - Not Just People Talking

A recent post on the QueryTracker.net blog got me thinking about dialogue's many roles. It develops character, imparts information, enlivens the prose, changes the pace after a stretch of narrative, heightens tension, and helps set the story in a certain era, region, socioeconomic group and culture. You can even set up the book's theme with some well-crafted dialogue. In Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier, all we know after five pages of listening to protagonist Inman is that he's recovering from combat wounds in an Army hospital. The he meets a blind man selling boiled peanuts on the hospital grounds and asks him who put out his eyes. The blind man says he was born that way.

-Why did you never have any? Inman said.
-Just happened that way.
-Well, Inman said. You're mighty calm. Especially for a man that most would say has taken the little end of the horn all his life.
The blind man said, It might have been worse had I ever been given a glimpse of the world and then lost it.
-Maybe, Inman said. Though what would you pay right now to have your eyeballs back for ten minutes? Plenty, I bet.
The man studied on the question. He worked his tongue around the corner of his mouth. He said, I'd not give an Indian-head cent. I fear it might turn me hateful.
-It's done it to me, Inman said. There's plenty I wish I'd never seen.
-That's not the way I meant it. You said ten minutes. It's having a thing and the loss I'm talking about.

Many readers complained bitterly about Inman being killed off at the end of the book, just as he'd realized the love of his life. But here on pages 5-6, Frazier showed us what was coming.

More than the roles listed above, dialogue embues the story with a certain flavor and authenticity. Elmore Leonard is a master at using a few lines of dialogue to convey the essence of a penitentiary, of military life, of wise guys, of Hollywood, of the ranch, or of a retirement community. In A Painted House, John Grisham shows us a rough-and-tumble family of hill people working on a Depression-era farm, when Deputy Stick investigates the death of a local ruffian.

"Three?" Stick repeated in disbelief. The entire gathering seemed to freeze.

Pappy seized the moment. "Three against one, and there's no way you can take him in for murder. No jury in this county'll ever convict if it's three against one."

For a moment Stick seemed to agree, but he wasn't about to concede. "That's if he's telling the truth. He'll need witnesses, and right now they're few and far between." Stick turned to face Hank again and said, "Who were the three?"

"I didn't ask their names, sir," Hank said with perfect sarcasm. "We didn't have a chance to say howdy. Three against one takes up a lotta time, especially if you're the one."

Everyday conversation, though, is nothing like dialogue in fiction. Listen to people talking on the street, and you'll notice how much is aimless, uninteresting and lacking tension. Conversation is littered with ahs and ums, stutters, false starts, cliches, pointless anecdontes, in-jokes indecipherable to outsiders, and stories that start nowhere and trail off into nothing. Good fictional dialogue might include any of the above in order to establish character, but is generally tightly written, with each participant guided by her goals in that particular scene - preferably conflicting goals, unknown to the other characters. Better yet if each character's goals are mutually exclusive, so one person achieving his goal means another's is denied.

Good dialogue in fiction is tight and lively - reality with all the boring stuff cut out. In this example from Robert B. Parker's Perish Twice, private detective Sunny Randall is trying to get some help from a married detective who has cheating in mind. Sunny speaks first.

Anybody issue him a permit?
We haven't.
But somebody might have.
Yep.
It's something that could be ascertained.
"Ascertained"? Wow, Sunny. You're some talker.
But it could be, I said.
Sure, eventually.
Could you look into that?
Larkin grinned at me.
You ever think how blond our kids would be if we mated? he said.
All the time, I said. See what you can find out for me about the gun.
Will it improve our chances of mating?
Won't hurt them, I said. I nodded at the picture on his desk. They might.
Larkin looked at the picture and smiled.
Yeah, he said. They always do.

Dialogue in fiction mimics reality. It has a conversational tone, and often aspires to the breathless give-and-take of a tennis match. It's often full of slang, profanity, sentence fragments and poor grammar. And good dialogue has a music of its own, plus a succer punch waiting around the corner. Take these co-workers feeling each other out in T.L. Hines' The Unseen:

She put one of her sneakered feet up against the wall behind her, picked a fleck of tobacco off her tongue. "So where do you live, at least?"

"Staying in a place over by Howard University."

Another laugh.

"What?" he asked.

"Howard U-ni-ver-si-ty. How's a white boy like you end up in the District, working for cash under the counter at the Blue Bell, and staying at a place filled with black folks?"

He puffed on his own cigarette, looking down at the ground. "You mean I'm not black?" he asked.