Quiz yourself on how to write dialog

Is there a right way and a wrong way to write dialog?  Turns out, there is.  Take this quiz and see if you know which sentence is best.

1.  “My book contains an error,” said Scarlett O’Hara.

2. “My book contains an error,” Scarlett O’Hara  said.

3. Said Scarlett O’Hara, “My book contains an error.”

4. Scarlett O’Hara said, “My book contains an error.”

5. “My book,” said Scarlett O’Hara, “contains an error.”

Sentence 5 is the worst of the five.  In it, the spoken thought is interrupted with the name of the speaker.  A sentence should not be stopped to tell who is saying it and then resumed to finish it.  A sentence of dialog should be kept together.

Sentences 3 and 4 are next worst.  Almost always, spoken words are more important than the name of the person who speaks them.  Spoken words—the dialog—should go first.  “Said” is an almost invisible word in written dialog.  It should not be highlighted.  Rather, it should be tucked after the name of the person speaking.  So 4 is a better sentence than 3.

That leaves 1 and 2.  Which is more important—the name of the speaker or the word “said”?  The name of the speaker, of course.  So 2 is the better sentence in that pair, and is the best sentence of all the options.

You might say, but I’ve read great writers who interrupt quotations by identifying who is speaking or who put the name of the speaker after the word “said” or its equivalent.  I have too.  For example,

From The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald:  “And Daisy ought to have something in her life,” murmured Jordan to me.

From The Sun also Rises by Ernest Hemingway:  “One more,” Brett said, “and I must run.”

From To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee:  “Well I don’t,” said Uncle Jack, “not unless there’s extreme provocation connected with ‘em.”

I could say that if you become as famous as Fitzgerald, Hemingway and Lee, you can write any way you want.  But if you check carefully through their novels, you’ll find the authors follow the practice explained above far more often than not.

Encourage complex thinking in little kids’ writing

When children start to write sentences, teachers and workbooks encourage simple sentences (sentences with one complete subject and one complete predicate).  Such a sentence might be “I am seven years old” or “My dog had pups yesterday.”

As students progress, teachers encourage compound sentences (two simple sentences connected with a FANBOYS—for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so—conjunction).  Such sentences might be “I am seven years old but I can ride a bike” or “My dog had pups yesterday and I can name one.”

As students progress to a greater age, and in theory, to more complex thinking, teachers encourage complex sentences (two simple sentences connected in such a way that one sentence is clearly more important).  Such sentences could be “I am seven years old although I look older” or “My dog had pups yesterday while I slept.”

Teaching sentences this way presupposes that little children think in simple sentences, then gradually grow into thinking in compound sentences, and then as they mature more, think in complex sentences.

The problem is, this pairing of sentence types to maturity is a false correlation.  Have you ever listened to four- and five-year-olds speak?  “I want five candies because Johnny has five candies” (complex sentence).  “For Halloween, I want to be a princess with a long pink dress and a sparkly crown in my hair and maybe ballerina slippers” (simple sentence).  “She pushed me into the snow with a real hard push, the kind of push of a football player mad at the guy carrying the football.” (simple sentence)

These sentences in the previous paragraph contain complex thoughts (cause and effect, layered details, and a metaphor).  Yet only the first sentence is a complex sentence, and of the three, it is the least complex in thought.  The other two show far more complexity of thought, yet they are simple sentences.

The complexity of these sentences can be shown by boldfacing the simple subject and predicate, and by stacking the dependent ideas  above (if they are said first) and below (if they are said after the subject and predicate).  Notice how the two simple sentences show more layers (more complexity of thought) than the complex sentence.

I want five candies

because Johnny has five candies.

 

For Halloween

I want to be a princess

with a long pink dress

and a sparkly crown

in my hair

and maybe ballerina slippers

 

She pushed me

into the snow

with a real hard push

the kind of push

of a football player

mad

at the guy

carrying the football

 

My point:  Little children speak with complex ideas.  Encourage them to write with complex ideas too.

How to introduce a character, part 2

Where a character is introduced in a story—the location—is important.  Either the character can be introduced in a familiar place—home, classroom, school bus, soccer field—or in an unfamiliar place.  Each has its advantages.

Consider ways to help readers remember characters’ names.

Today let’s look at situations where the character is introduced in an unfamiliar setting—as a fish out of water.  How does a rural Minnesotan behave in tony Long Island in the Jazz Age?  How does a wealthy aristocratic landowner behave in the presence of a quick-witted, irreverent young woman?  Are they exhilarated?  Panicky?  Do they accept the values of their new locations?  Or do they find those values and those who live by them repugnant?

In The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, the narrator, Nick, has grown up in Minnesota, but he has decided to work in Manhattan.  He has dinner with an old classmate and a distant cousin, thinking he will feel at home with them on Long Island, but he doesn’t.  They have changed.  The man has become a racist, controlling aristocrat, and the woman an empty-headed little fool.  They introduce Nick to a beautiful athlete.  He learns she cheats.  For a while they date and he accepts her morality, but ultimately, he can’t stomach it.  Nick meets a gambler who offers him a job.  Nick turns it down.  By the novel’s end, Nick realizes he doesn’t belong in New York, and he returns to the Midwest and its values.

What is the advantage of having Nick, the newcomer, narrate Gatsby?  Nick is seeing 1920s Long Island and Manhattan society for the first time.  We are right there with him, piggybacked on Nick’s shoulders, experiencing his raw reactions.  Like Nick, we are shocked by the behavior of Tom, Daisy, Jordan and Gatsby.  Nick can’t accept “this is just the way things are.”  He wants a world of clear morality where people are responsible for their actions, not careless.  Because we are in Nick’s head, so do we.

Another fish-out-of-water character is Fitzwilliam Darcy when he meets Lizzy Bennet early in Pride and Prejudice.  At the village assembly, Darcy dances with none of the local girls, including Lizzy.  He says they are unfamiliar.  As the book progresses, Darcy, an extremely wealthy man, is teased by Lizzy when he is used to being deferred to.   He doesn’t know how to respond.  When he can no longer ignore his attraction to Lizzy and he proposes, he is bewildered and angered when she says no.  Who is she—a poor man’s daughter—to turn down one of the wealthiest men in Britain?  Gradually, Darcy and Lizzy reconcile, and at novel’s end, marry.  Darcy accepts Lizzy’s family and their baggage, but at a distance, as he heads to his estate with his bride, where, presumably, Lizzy will be the fish-out-of-water.

Why does Jane Austen make Darcy the outsider?  Pride and Prejudice is a satire.  Many of those being ridiculed in the book are from the landowning class (Darcy), the aristocracy (Darcy’s aunt), and the clergy.  The observer of the satire is Lizzy, the character with the keenest sense of humor. Darcy is arrogant, so we, who identify with Lizzy, chuckle when Darcy’s hot air is pricked.  Many early scenes set up for later ironic ones:  Darcy, who won’t dance with Lizzy, is later turned down by Lizzy as a dance partner; Darcy, who insults Lizzy’s family while proposing, is himself insulted by Lizzy’s in her refusal; Darcy, who is able to protect his younger sister from an imprudent elopement—and to protect himself, too, from scandal—cannot protect Lizzy’s younger sister from an elopement with the same scoundrel, and cannot protect Lizzy from the tawdry association.

Usually, when we start to read a novel, we are outsiders to the world of the novelist.  We haven’t lived in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1920s Long Island nor in Jane Austen’s early 19th century Britain.  But that is one of the attractions of novels.  We can immerse ourselves in an unfamiliar time and place, know it well, and then leave—like Nick does in Gatsby—or commit—like Darcy does in Pride and Prejudice.

How F. Scott Fitzgerald introduces characters in Gatsby

Whether you are writing a short story or a long novel, you need to introduce characters into your narrative.  One mistake many of my students make is to rely on “is” and “are” to describe characters.  “Her hair is blonde and her eyes are blue.”  “He was about five feet, three inches tall, and his hair was white.”

Scott Fitzgerald had the same need to describe characters as he introduced them in The Great Gatsby. Below are Fitzgerald’s words introducing some of his most important characters.  Notice how few times he uses the verb “to be” and how much he describes personalities rather than physical appearances.

Daisy “made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too.”  Do we know what Daisy looks like?  No.  The first thing we know is that she laughs and makes others happy.  Maybe that’s why Gatsby has loved her all these years?  Immediately we like her.

Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch. . . .he was a sturdy, straw haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner.  Two shining, arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face.”  We know from his posture that Tom is a man’s man–nothing feminine about him–and from his mouth that he has a tough, unforgiving nature, and from his manner that he is arrogant.  Right away we fear Tom, and rightly so.  Nothing is lighthearted about him.

Myrtle Wilson “a thickish figure of a woman blocked out the light from the office door. . . .but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously.”  Myrtle’s stout figure surprises us since by the time she is introduced we know she is Tom’s mistress.  That last word, “sensuously,” tells us all we need to know about Tom’s and Myrtle’s relationship.  From this initial description we pity Myrtle for attaching herself to a fearsome man like Tom.

“’I’m Gatsby,’ he said suddenly. . . .’I thought you knew, old sport.  I’m afraid I’m not a very good host.’  He smiled understandingly—much more than understandingly.  It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it.”  Gatsby introduces himself to the narrator, Nick, with an apology, but he immediately smiles—and what a smile!  No mention of Gatsby’s age or physique or party clothes.  Rather, we appreciate Gatsby’s charm as shown by his words and smile.  We like Gatsby.

To introduce these characters, Fitzgerald focuses on a characteristic of personality which is vital to our relating to that character.  Laughter, a hard edge, sexiness, and a smile.  Two of the four characters have no physical description at all.

Can you duplicate Fitzgerald’s technique?  Read over this paragraph about a dog, and then rewrite it.  Describe the dog’s appearance but also give the dog an attitude.

The original:

The door opens and out comes a dog.  It’s a fat black pug on short legs.  He has bulging black eyes, a pressed-in face, and a wrinkled neck.

Here is one rewrite:

The crate door opens and out rushes a chubby black pug on puny legs.  His bulging black eyes dart from left to right above his snorting mouth.  He marches as if on a mission—no sauntering for him—bee-lining to his water bowl where he lowers his heavy head on its velvety, wrinkled neck.

And here’s another:

The car door slides to reveal a black pug sniffing the air and studying the distance to the ground.  He waits on truncated legs too short to jump.  His master encircles the pug’s velvety neck with one hand, lifts his weighty belly with the other, and lowers him to the grass.  The pug sniffs, scuffs in a circle three times, and pees.  He paws at the grass to cover his business and struts.  His master snaps on his leash and walks ahead, calling the pug to follow.  But the mighty pug recognizes the vet’s doorway, digs in his hind legs, and balks.  No staying in a kennel for me, mister.

Should students use AI in English classrooms?

Suppose you assign your high school students to write an essay on transgender athletes.  It’s a topic to which the regulatory bodies of various sports have responded differently (or not at all). It’s controversial, current and abounding in opinions—a good topic for an essay.

Should you allow your student to use AI to write this essay?  If so, at what point in the writing process?

The writing process begins with narrowing down the topic into a main idea or thesis.  A good way for a student to do this is to read widely on the topic until a position emerges in the student’s mind.  Then the student should narrow this position further, list three or four supporting ideas and identify details and examples to explain these supporting ideas.

This kind of thinking is what schools call critical thinking.  It involves understanding a topic by analyzing it, by evaluating various parts of the topic to see how they would support or undermine a position, and by synthesizing or bringing together ideas in a unique way.  Then students order the ideas, write sentences and paragraphs, and figure out what to put in the introduction and conclusion.  Last comes revising: polishing the writing by improving vocabulary and sentence structure, adding better information, deleting irrelevant information, and fixing grammar, spelling and punctuation problems.

But what if your student begins by asking AI for an essay thesis relating to transgender athletes.  In a nanosecond, a thesis appears.  Your student asks for three supporting ideas.  In another nanosecond, the supporting information appears.  Your student reads over AI’s suggestions and concurs.  Your student asks AI to write the essay in 350 to 400 words with a striking introduction, three body paragraphs and a humorous conclusion.  In another nanosecond, the essay appears.  Done.

Which way do you want students working–by thinking deeply about the topic or by asking AI to think for them?  Through which method do students learn?

If you want your students to do the work, one way to tell if they do and have learned from the process is to demand that the prewriting notes, organization graphic/chart/bullets, and the first drafts be turned in with the essay.  Another is to ask students to paraphrase their thesis and subtopic ideas.  If they can’t put their essay’s ideas in their own words, do they really understand what “they” wrote?  Another is to ask students what positions they declined to take and why.  If students have a full understanding of the topic, they will be able to explain why they took a certain position as well as why they didn’t take another.

For most high school students I have worked with—maybe all—using AI would not be in their self-interest.  Making mistakes and learning from them is a far better approach to learning.  Students, like athletes, need to have skin in the game.  If students have allowed AI to make the choices in their essays, students have no stake in the assignment.  It’s like having a robot run the 200 meter or swim the 400 IM.  For students to achieve, they have to do the work.

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Are you looking for a writing tutor for your student for the coming school year?  Contact me through this blog, and let’s discuss how I can help with online writing classes for grades 4 through 12, and for college admissions essays.