1:09 p.m. - 2003-12-28
writing dialogue - exercises in typing.
writing dialogue
"bloody hell!" he cried out.
"bloody hell!" i cried out.
- dialogue from "hole in my life" by Jack Gantos.
Hole in my life is a book written for adolescents. I dun think im considered one anymore but i like that book. i think i will start to borrow more adolescent books.
It seems to me that the children born from the 1960s-70s; some of them have become writers and they write books tackling more interesting (to me anyway) stuff. Like growing up, drifting apart, finding direction, feelings that well up, decisions that are hard to make.
And mostly they write from their bank of experiences, growing up in suburbia, or in some town, with a bunch of high school friends, claustrophobic small-town stuff like that.
chris crutcher is another one. he wrote king of the mild frontier. a semi-autobiography about his life, how he grew up, how his experiences and the pple he met found their way into the books and characters he wrote.
ok. after writing a few sentences and deleting them and now rewriting over them in this same space, i've made a new resolution. whenever i write about my life, the focus should be on the issues and the pple around me. not how my character would be judged by the readers.
"shes a neverending story." beck.
ok, back to the title. i usually always start by writing out a title, inspired by reading some other stuff, to point to myself a destination by which my words should lead to. ok. writing dialogue.
i've always found writing dialogue quite fake. its not the actual words that pple say. well maybe. but its more of how to put in stuff outside of the "__" quotation marks. like "he said" or "he exclaimed" or "she said with a laugh".
sometimes i feel like "said" is overused and so i'd wrack the brains for another more interesting word. sometimes it becomes
"fuck you!" he pointed his middle finger and spat.
grammar police says it should be
"fuck you!" he spat and pointed his middle finger.
yeah probably the second one is more effective. but sometimes we get lazy and lapse to streamofconsciousness writing, thinking it would come out beautiful like some human random poetry. but it can get quite tiring for the reader sometimes im sure, all the word association and deciphering. what is poetry. a distillation of thoughts/emotions? drink distilled water.
convoluted words. proper 4-syllable pro-nun-cia-tion.
the soundtrack switches to a guy singing spiritedly with a fast tempo, uttering his feelings out, without a thought to the words and listeners do they care to rhyme at all.
i think its time to put some structure and craft into this. and time to translate thoughts into actions.
"you dun need a furby" HMV said.
"yea i dun," i nodded,
"but... i like it."
HMV folded arms and looked at me with a knowing expression.
i thought for a while and said, "you are not me. i'm buying it on a whim. but its my whim. im being self-defensive here, you might be persuading me not to waste my money on such stuff. i appreciate yr level-headed advice at this time. but its also time for me to do things i like without feeling like i have to answer to anybody. especially when i've been answering questions trying to justify myself almost this this whole life. i know you get this feeling sometimes too. i hope you understand."
i laughed to ease the tension and added,"hunger is a good enough reason to eat."
i dunno what it meant exactly.
my mother's friend just called.
i picked up the phone.
"hello is your mother in?" she said in rapidfire.
"no she went to work already." i answered just as fast and morose.
"ok thanks. click." she cut the line.
i put the receiver down and walked back here.
im glad for such conversations. cut to the chase. end it when your motives end. thank god she didnt ask me which son i am or how i am or when mother will be back. i dunno the answers or i dun care. i just want to be un-interrupted.
when our motives meet, we are happy. i guess thats why pple playing soccer in the same field are happy, just like lovers staring at each other silently.
about the freedoms i may want:
i want to have the luxury of throwing popcorn at the person in front of me in the movies.
i want i want
the fear in the mornings to go away.
the doctor visits to go away.
to smoke without thinking of cancer or my family.
these are the things i want
i want i want
to go out late and paint the town red.
to get drunk and not vomit myself out.
i think im going a bit far here.
its best to keep my wants simple.
i want i want
i think i want
to get well.
endofstory.
