Writing crisp dialogue

Alfred Hitchcock once said, “Movies are life with the boring parts cut out.”

So it is with writing dialogue. A conversation between two people should be crisp, sizzling, gripping, and move the story forward. It should show emotion and conflict. Adding action and thoughts to the dialogue adds that extra zest.

Let’s take the following example: An estranged father is meeting his now-teenage son after ten years.

“Hello, son.”
“Hello.”
 “You look good.”
“Thanks.”
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
“So they say.”
 “Um…I’m back now, son. My drinking days are over.”
“We don’t need you.” 


This sounds dry and boring. So let’s add some action and now.

He came close to me. He looked old. “Hello, son.”
“Hello.” I took a step back.
He smiled. “You look good.”
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
“So they say.”
He tried to touch my shoulder. “Um…I’m back now, son. My drinking days are over.”
“We don’t need you.” I turned around and walked away.


Better, but it’s not engaging, because we don’t know if the son is being too harsh on his father, or why. We need to empathize with the boyNow let’s add the son’s emotions and some description:

He came close to me. “Hello, son.” He looked older than I remembered. He had bags under his eyes and a receding hairline. I wondered if I’d become bald one day. I did have this SOB’s genes.

"Hello." I would not call him Dad. I took a step back. Why was he here now? We were doing just fine without him. We didn’t need him, Mom and I. We had a good life now. She had a job, and I had school.

He smiled. “You look good.”
He was trying to ingratiate himself. He looked relieved that I said hello back to him. But it was not with any affection, or love. It was just good manners. Manners that he had never taught me. He had never been around for that long. I have learnt everything from Mom.  

“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes, trying to act cool. I didn’t need him. I don’t need him.

“You have your mother’s eyes.”

I clenched my jaw. “So they say.” That’s not what people say. Everyone says I have his eyes. Why was he lying? Had he already met Mom? Did she ask him to talk to me? I couldn’t let her get back with him. He was just going to hurt us again.

He tried to touch my shoulder. “Um…I’m back now, son. My drinking days are over.”

Once a drunk, always a drunk. I didn’t believe him. How could he think we’d take him back? What about all the hurt he had caused? Where was he when I was bullied in school? When the cops came to the house, searching for dope which I didn’t have? Mom and I needed him once. But not anymore. I’m almost a grown-up. I can take care of her.

“We don’t need you,” I said, tears pricking my eyes. Then I turned around and walked away.

Now we have the beginning of a story...

---