Suggestion-box requests: (1) Dialog, in particular mixing stage business with dialog.
It’s been a while since I’ve done a post on dialog, and I have a request for one, so here ‘tis.
So-called “stage business” in fiction follows the theater definition; it’s “an incidental action, such as lighting a pipe, performed by an actor for dramatic effect.” In theater, the script often dictates specific stage business that the author wants as a set-up for some key emotional or plot-related thing, but most of it is invented by the actors as they interpret the character.
So the first problem novelists face is that, in fiction, the writer doesn’t have actors to decide whether this character fidgets constantly with her handbag, that one doodles on every piece of paper that comes within reach, and the other one hunches his shoulders and looks down whenever someone speaks to him. The writer has to do it all (along with costumes, stage set, lighting, and all the other stuff that theaters have entire backstage crews for).
The second problem novelists face is that, in real life, things can happen simultaneously. This character fidgets with her handbag while she talks and studies the room; that one doodles while watching TV. Sentences are necessarily linear; “this while character she fidgets talks with and her studies handbag the room” doesn’t usefully describe two things happening simultaneously. It’s word salad.
And the third problem is that processing visual images, like pictures or movies or a theater performance, gives an enormous amount of information all at once. Providing the same information about the set, action, costumes, emotional tone, and dialog in word-by-word sentences ends up slowing the story down with far too much description. The author has to pick and choose.
One really helpful way of addressing the second two issues is mixing dialog and stage business (deciding on what the stage business is, falls under “characterization”).
This can be more complicated than it looks at first glance. Characters’ actions can often be viewed as part of the dialog (some researchers put the amount of information conveyed by body language at 75% of interpersonal communication). This means that, like the words in dialog, the stage business is a model of what is going on when people talk to each other, rather than a detailed, complete transcript of what is happening.
In addition, exactly where the writer puts the stage business can make it act as a simple speech-tag substitute, or as a longer pause in the discussion, or as a complete change in the meaning of the dialog. “ ‘Come here.’ Jennifer opened her arms, offering a hug.” is very different from “ ‘Come here.’ Jennifer raised the blaster.” In both versions, the stage business substitutes for the speech tag “Jennifer said,” while also providing very different meanings for the dialog.
When used as a substitute for a speech tag, stage business works the same way; that is, you can put the stage business before the dialog, in the middle, or at the end. When it’s in the middle of a single short bit of dialog, it looks and feels (and gets punctuated) like an interruption (even though it’s a really strong indication of simultaneity), and should be used very sparingly.
“Come”—Jennifer raised the blaster—“here.”
When stage business ends up between two full sentences, even short ones, the stage business can feel either simultaneous or like a pause.
“Come here.” Jennifer raised the blaster. “We need to talk.”
“You’re very convincing.” Henry eyed the blaster. It was well-worn, and Jennifer wasn’t the type to have someone else’s blaster lying around. She was probably very good with it… “All right, I’m coming!”
Longer stage business feels more like a pause, as in the second paragraph above, but much longer than a few sentences, and it gets awkward as a speech-tag substitute. If there’s a lot of stage business, and it logically goes in the middle, it usually flows better as a separate paragraph.
“You’re very convincing,” Henry said.
He eyed the blaster. It was well-worn, and Jennifer wasn’t the type to have someone else’s blaster lying around. She shifted it slightly, and Henry flinched. Jennifer stepped back, motioning with the barrel. Either she’d practiced in front of the mirror, or she’d threatened people before. She was surprisingly good at it. Probably good with the blaster, too. She motioned again, eyes narrowing.
“All right, I’m coming!”
Note that the longer paragraph includes physical actions by both Henry and Jennifer, which is another reason not to use it as a speech tag. Also, it includes both physical action (Henry eyeing the blaster, Jennifer’s eyes narrowing, stepping back) and Henry’s thoughts and observations about Jennifer, the blaster, and her threats.
In theater, all stage business is physical action: fiddling, shrugging, lighting a pipe, picking up a book, looking toward or away from something. In fiction, stage business can also involve thoughts and emotions—mainly those of the viewpoint character, but sometimes the thoughts or emotions that the POV character infers from someone else’s actions or expression (particularly if the POV knows the other character well…or thinks they do).
The longer the stage business lasts, the longer the pause/interruption in the conversation feels to the reader. If the writer goes on for more than a paragraph between bits of dialog, the reader is liable to lose track of the conversation and feel as if they’ve transitioned to action/internal monolog. The same is true if every line of dialog contains stage business, or has a paragraph of stage business between it and the next line of dialog.
Thank you.
I was expecting this to be combined with Jane Bigelow’s request for a post on moving characters around in a scene. But if that becomes a separate post I won’t complain.
If eyes are the window to the soul, then stage business involving them really helps communicate that missing body language. “Yes,” she held his gaze… “What?” But he looked away as he said it.
Hands are good too, but I think what they do with their eyes maybe conveys the most.
No wonder I enjoy your books so much; this intelligent and wise analysis clearly demonstrates your observational skills.
And by the way, I’d like to thank you for hundreds of hours of great pleasure (I’m a dedicated re-reader, not a slow one, and certain books offer deep comfort in troubled times. Right now, I’m enjoying your magical West series yet again and wishing I too could be a naturalist explorer in that rich setting).
One thing to remember that writing has its description advantages over film, too.
A woman can fiddle with her red lipstick in film. Only in writing can she fiddle with blood-red, or rose-red, lipstick. That is, you can load your language.
And also, the point of view doesn’t have to notice the whole field of vision that the camera has to take in. It can notice what the point of view character finds significant. (This can be interesting when something has to be noticed, but it can also be worked with.)
In writing, the woman can also notice that the guy’s cologne smells nice and masculine, while his beard feels unpleasantly prickly.