Quotes and dialogue: 10 tips on how to use them effectively

Quotes are great. They’re often my favorite part of a novel. In the form of dialogue, they move a story along like almost nothing else, and they break up those chunks of heavy gray description that can weigh a book down if the author isn’t careful.

But quotes don’t write themselves. Some authors use them well; others, not so much. So here are some simple, practical suggestions about how to use quotes effectively.

1

Emphasize dialogue

A good novel should have both, but there’s an advantage to dialogue: It lets you inside a character’s head without a lot of tedious description. When the characters themselves tell you what they’re thinking, you get their thoughts from their own lips. And the way they tell you what they’ve got to say gives you even more insight: into their motivations, their emotions, their biases, their limitations.

In practical terms, quick-hitting dialogue is a lot easier on the eyes than dense blocks of text from an author who presumes to know what his characters are. Of course, the author does know. After all, those characters were born in the author’s head. Still, a narrator who describes what a character is thinking seems like a secondhand source. Readers want a front-row seat; at least, I know I do, and dialogue provides that.

This does not mean dialogue is the only way to get inside a character’s head. In a first-person story, especially, you can get inside the character’s head without it. But it’s still the most natural, direct way of communicating what’s on the character’s mind.

It’s also a good idea to break up dialogue with description, and vice versa. Extremely long sections of dialogue can feel more like a screenplay than a novel, while extended description can feel static, like a visit to an art gallery.

2

Write conversationally

Remember that the people are talking. Writing dialogue is not just taking some description and slapping a couple of quotes around it. It’s a way of describing what characters are thinking, what they want to communicate, and who they are without some third-party analysis.

This isn’t as easy as it seems. In watching a well-reviewed TV show the other day, I noticed a teenage character say something like, “We will need to trek over to that mountain.” What teenage uses the word “trek” in a sentence (unless the character’s a science fiction nerd talking about Star Trek)? This was probably a case of description masquerading as a quote that was placed in the character’s mouth — a particular risk with screenplays, which lean heavily on dialogue.

One of the most important things to keep in mind when writing dialogue is that it’s meant to be spoken. That doesn’t change just because it’s on a printed page. As you’re writing, recite it to yourself (or even aloud) to be sure it sounds natural to your own ear. But be careful: Don’t go to the other extreme and rely on buzzwords and catch phrases you’ve heard just because they sound like dialogue. Stay original.

3

Define each character’s voice

This can be one of the biggest challenges for a writer. You know how you talk, so it’s easy to simply transfer your own conversational style to your characters. But if you do that, they’ll all sound alike — and like you.

Be sure the words spoken come from the mind of each particular character. If you’ve put a lot of effort into developing a unique character, you’ll have an easier time defining his or her voice. If, however, the character is two-dimensional or poorly developed, it will be tempting to fall back on stereotypical accents and rely heavily on clichés as crutches when writing dialogue.

Strong character development is the key to engaging and convincing dialogue.

4

No speeches, please

You’re not writing a speech for some self-important politician. You’re writing for someone who’s reading to be entertained or informed. Long blocks of text, whether they’re descriptive or in quotes, can seem daunting to a reader — especially in the age when tweets are in and Shakespearean soliloquys are out.

Just looking at a dense block of gray on a page can feel exhausting. (This is another reason snappy dialogue, with its frequent paragraph breaks, can move a story along so effectively. It’s like running a treadmill instead of struggling up a hill.)

Besides, it’s not realistic. Most people in a conversation don’t drone on ad nauseam. Those who do tend to get tuned out, right? So why should you expect a reader to keep paying attention to a character who does the same thing?

If you have to break a quote up over two or three paragraphs, ask yourself whether it’s worth it — and whether there might be a better way to present that information.

5

Make clear who’s talking

Don’t keep the reader guessing about this. How often have you seen a quote go on for four or five sentences before finally identifying the speaker? “She said,” shouldn’t always go at the end of the paragraph. Inserting the attribution after the first sentence breaks up the quote and keeps things moving.

It doesn’t hurt to change things up occasionally by leading with the attribution, either.

Just don’t leave readers wondering who’s talking if it’s not clear in the flow of the narrative. It can become a distraction. The more they focus on trying to answer that question, the less attention they’ll be paying to what’s on the page.

6

Minimize dialogue tags

On the flipside of No. 5, if it’s already clear who’s talking, you don’t need a dialogue tag. If you’ve got a back-and-forth between just two characters, inserting “she said” after each line slows the section down and quickly becomes tedious. Don’t be condescending to the reader. Let the dialogue speak for itself.

For the most part, dialogue tags (aka attribution) should be reserved for cases where it’s not clear who’s talking. If three or more people are engaged in a conversation, they can be helpful in sorting things out. The same is true if you’re starting a section of dialogue and it’s not clear who’s going first.

If you decide to use a dialogue tag, “said” is usually fine. You don’t need to switch things up by using words like “criticized” or “gasped” or “enthused.” These are fine occasionally, but they’re often overused in a quest for variety. (If you must use “exclaimed,” please don’t use it with an exclamation point. That’s redundant.) The main point to keep in mind is that these varied tags draw attention away from the dialogue itself, which is the last thing you want to do.

The best writing lets the dialogue speak for itself, conveying the speaker’s tone, emotion and vocal inflections without relying on dialogue tags and exclamation points.

7

Avoid jargon (except…)

On the one hand, a character’s words should reflect his or her background. On the other, the reader should be able to understand them. There can be a tension between these two goals if the reader and character come from two different worlds, and it’s up to the author to bridge this gap as seamlessly and effortlessly as possible.

Sometimes, genre can help your audience make the necessary connection. Readers of science fiction are likely to know what a character means in referring to wormholes, cyborgs and quantum drives are. Fans of noir fiction will probably understand a character who talks about a “button man” or a “canary.” But in general fiction, you can’t make those assumptions.

Unfamiliar and unclear jargon will stop readers in their tracks or send them scrambling for a dictionary. But explaining that jargon in the author’s voice will slow things down, too. That’s why the jargon is used best when it 1) flows naturally from the character and 2) can be understood based on the context.

The same thing goes for accents. If your character’s accent is so thick you have to convey it with multiple odd spellings, readers may feel like they’re reading something in a different language. The energy it takes to translate thick accents inside the reader’s head can be tiring or distracting, and may or may not be worth it. Use accents sparingly and with discretion.

A related topic: Swearing. You have to balance how natural, and expected it might be from mouths of certain characters with how acceptable it is to your readers. You can’t please all of the people all of the time. So, be true to your characters and trust that your work will find an audience that appreciates your authenticity. Or, write to your audience and create characters who will speak naturally within that framework.

8

Avoid fads

Remember the mullet? Maybe you do. What you might not remember is that it was actually popular for a while (at least in some circles). The same goes for beehive hairdos, per rocks and The Partridge Family.

It may be popular today to write in the present tense, but will it be a decade from now?

Characters don’t speak in computer shorthand. They’re not going to go around saying “LOL” or “AFK.” You might want to think twice about using here-today, gone-tomorrow pop culture references. If you try too hard to make your characters sound hip or trendy, you might accomplish just the opposite. It’s entirely possible for something to be all the rage when you’re writing Chapter 1 and yesterday’s news if your book’s published months later.

Another downside: Such references often look forced. Don’t try too hard.

9

Quotes shouldn’t boring (even in nonfiction)

You don’t see much dialogue in nonfiction. Quotes, however, serve the same primary purpose: They allow the source to speak directly to the reader.

In nonfiction, though, the author doesn’t have as much control. You’re not dealing with a fictional character, so you can’t simply make something up or change it to suit your purpose. You have to remain true to what the person actually said.

Even if it’s awkward. Or grammatically incorrect. Or boring as hell.

Nonfiction does have a reputation as sleep-inducing. The authors of those tedious textbooks from your school daze made them educational, but not engaging. (No wonder kids don’t like homework.) So, it’s become almost come to be expected. Many authors use an “academic” tone because they’re writing for an academic audience; but still others emulate that style because they want to sound impressive or knowledgeable.

That’s not good if you want people to actually read what you’ve written: About only thing more boring than academic writing is the fine print in a contract.

The way quotes are used in nonfiction doesn’t help. They’re not usually part of a dialogue. Most authors include them for the sake of authority: “If Dr. So-and-So from Harvard says it, it must be true.” But even if the author isn’t writing a textbook, quotes from professors, scientists, lawyers or other experts will likely seem like they belong in one.

Yawn.

Those experts are not, generally, professional writers. If you, as the author, devote too much space to quoting them directly, your writing won’t seem professional — or original. It’ll seem dense and derivative.

The solution is to limit the use quotes from such sources, and to choose those quotes that are the most lively and conversational. If you know what they’re saying and can say it more clearly, do so. There’s nothing wrong with paraphrasing, as long as it’s clear that’s what you’re doing, and the message isn’t lost in translation.

10

Nothing is absolute (even this rule)

There are exceptions to almost any rule you can come up with. It all boils down to this: If you keep your dialogue compelling, authentic and easy to understand, you’ll be golden.

Quest for book sales a Catch-22 for most authors

“To him who has, more will be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who has not, even what he has will be taken away.”

— Matt. 13:12 (RSV)

Originality? What’s that?

If you want to make money, I mean really make money, you’ve got to do just the opposite: Find what’s sold in the past, repackage it, then sell it again to an eager audience.

This isn’t a new technique. Recycled ideas are a lot older than recycling aluminum cans and plastic milk bottles. I first noticed it back in the 1970s. Products from detergents to deodorants would tinker with their formula just a touch, call themselves “new and improved,” and put on a marketing blitz to gain new customers and win back old ones.

It’s not new, but it is more popular – especially in entertainment.

Take the movies, for example. There’s still original stuff out there. Movies like Get Out and Bird Box come to mind; and a Japanese-language film called Parasite even won the motion picture cast award from the Screen Actors Guild this year.

But it’s getting harder for them to find traction amid a sea of reboots, sequels and franchises. Consider: In 2005, sequels and prequels accounted for less than 10 percent of the 100 top-grossing movies in the United States. By 2017, the figure had more than tripled, to 30 percent.

Heck, Disney’s got it all figured out: Another Star Wars film. Another Marvel movie. Hey, I know, let’s repackage all those uber-profitable Disney animated classics as live-action movies! Even without Robin Williams, we can get Will Smith to play the genie in Aladdin, and voila! Another cool billion in the bank.

Biopics are big business, too: Freddie Mercury, Elton John, Judy Garland... People love what’s familiar to them, and they’ll eat it up.

Formula won

Which brings us to my line of work: writing books. The same thing seems to be happening there, too. Familiarity rules.

What’s most familiar to most readers is an author’s name. If you’re “known,” you’ve created a reliable brand that can serve as your formula for success.

The rest of us have to latch onto an existing formula and hope against hope we catch on. The idea is simple: Choose a formula or subgenre that bears a strong resemblance to something that’s worked before, and crank out the stories. (For the record, the romance genre had nearly twice as many earnings as any other in 2016, followed by crime/mystery, religious and fantasy science fiction. Horror was in fifth place, but with just 5 percent of the earnings raked in by romance-erotica.)

So, say you’ve decided to write in a popular genre or subgenre and you’ve started writing.

Your first obstacle will be the fact that other writers have done their research, too, and have targeted the same popular genre you’ve identified as “yours.” And more people there are cranking out the same kind of stories, the harder it is to choose among them.

Some readers will read any story in a given subgenre, just like some moviegoers will see any Marvel movie. But there are a lot more books in a subgenre than there are movies in any given franchise, and it takes a lot longer to read a book than it does to watch a movie. So, sooner or later, the market will get flooded, and only tried-and-true authors need apply.

The rest of us? Well, we’re back to Square One.

“The poor stay poor, the rich get richer. It’s just so disproportionate. ”

— Marshall Mathers (Eminem)

The sin of originality

Maybe you don’t want to focus on formula. Maybe you’d rather try to break through by writing original stories. That’s still possible – if you can catch someone’s eye. Someone who isn’t looking for the same-old, same-old, and who has the connections it takes to put your books in front of readers. (Oprah Winfrey’s book club is an example.)

I don’t know whether it’s more difficult to do that, or whether it’s more difficult to write formulaic novels and hope they somehow find an audience in the sea of other formulaic novels out there.

There is a third option: Write an original story and tie it up nice and pretty in a familiar looking package. But you’ll face the same challenges here, too, plus another potential obstacle: Readers looking for originality might never give your book a second glance, and those looking for pure formula might feel tricked and protest, “What the hell is THIS!?”

None of these options is bad. I prefer to write original stories, but I’ve also seen all the Star Wars movies and most of the Marvel flicks. I’ve also tried to package original stories within the framework of a subgenre.

The point is, whatever option you choose, the odds are never in your favor. Or, at least, not very often. And that can lead to desperation...

...which attracts con artists like a dying animal draws vultures to the side of the road. You hire a marketing guru. You pour money into Amazon and Facebook ads. You buy into “sure-fire” systems for increasing profits, but the only “sure-fire” profits wind up going to the self-proclaimed experts selling those systems.

Catch-22

In one sense, authors face the same Catch-22 (that started out as a book title, by the way) anyone faces when getting started in a business. There’s an old saying that you have to have experience to get a job, but you have to have a job to gain experience.

The writing world is similar: You have to have exposure to sell books, but you have to sell books to gain exposure (unless you want to give them away, which kind of defeats the purpose).

The difference lies in how hard it is to break into this specific field. At the start of 2020, the overall unemployment rate was 3.5 percent. Now, a lot of people had to work two or more jobs to make ends meet, but that still leaves them in better shape than the typical author. According to the Authors Guild, that was $6,080 in 2017, or less than half the poverty level for a single person living alone.

To put it another way: If you worked half-time (20 hours a week) at $10 an hour, you’d still make one-third more than the median author’s salary.

And while other industries are seeing a slow but steady climb in wages, author earnings actually fell by 42 percent from 2009 to 2016.

Snowball effect

In this kind of environment, success stories from big-name authors are less than comforting. A successful author telling a struggling writer, “If I did it, you can too,” might as well be a lottery winner conveying the same message.

Unlike a winning lottery ticket, however, there’s often a snowball effect with writing a bestseller or two. Big-name authors who have been around any length of time have made the vast majority of their money off their reputations, not their talents – which is not to disparage their talents. It’s simply proof of my original premise: Familiarity is a goldmine. It may breed contempt in some quarters, but obscurity breeds indifference, which is far worse if you’re trying to sell books.

I like to write stories with happy endings, but I haven’t found one here. Not yet. I guess if I want that, I’ll have to go see another Disney movie.

On second thought, maybe I’ll see an indie film instead. If I can find one playing within 200 miles of where I live, that is.

Yes, the struggle is real.

How to write a mystery without even knowing it

Fleetwood Mac released an album in 1973 titled "Mystery to Me." The cover featured a cartoon baboon sampling a cake, having apparently already taken a bite out of a book.

Four months have passed since the release of "Memortality," and readers have taken their first bite (not literally, I hope) out of this, my debut novel on Pace Press. I'm happy to say the reactions have been positive: a series of 4- and 5-star Amazon reviews, along with praise from respected literary magazines such as Amazing Stories and Foreword Reviews.

Many readers don't know how to categorize it. Is it fantasy? Science fiction? Horror? A spy novel? That's because I wrote to the story, not to the genre. I've never liked labels, so when my publisher called the novel "genre-breaking," it made me smile. I'm all about breaking down artificial boundaries, even if it makes things harder for booksellers to find the proper shelf for my novel.

I wasn't even sure whether to call it YA, new adult or adult fiction. Truth is, I wanted it to be all of the above. Hey, if J.K. Rowling could impress my then-octogenarian dad with a series of books written for kids, I figured that was a pretty good role model.

“The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.”

— Oscar Wilde

But one thing did surprise me most about the readers' reaction: Some classified it as a mystery. I definitely didn't set out to write a mystery. I've even been known to remark that I didn't think I'd ever write a mystery. For one thing, it's been my impression that good mysteries are elaborate exercises, and I'm mostly a "pantser," which is to say I write by the seat of my pants.  I don't create elaborate outlines before sitting down to write a book. I start with a general concept and let the story take me wherever it wants to go.

When people say the word "mystery," I tend to thing of Ellery Queen, Agatha Christie and the like. But mystery, in the broader sense is about keeping the readers guessing; it's about sprinkling enough clues around in the plot to foreshadow a twist without giving it away. And I do love twists. If you haven't read "Memortality," it's got a great twist toward the end, if I do say so myself.

So maybe I did write a mystery, after all, even if, to quote that old album title, it wasn't a mystery to me.