[Bonk! Kabonk! Kabonk!]

The dialogue in this film hurts – which is why the folks at MST3K make fun of it. (Note, whoever wrote this is not familiar with Elmore Leonard’s rules on writing – they have a character say “all hell will break loose. Literally.” Eek.

I hope my dialogue doesn’t sound like this.

Here’s where reading what we write aloud counts, and counts hard.

The best writing doesn’t sound written. It should sound natural. If you can read what you write and it sounds written, you’ve got to start over again.

This is why I struggle with dialogue, and why the Hermit of Iapetus is sparse on dialogue – except for what’s spoken mostly in the hermit’s head. But that’s a flaw as well, because I know as a reader I find good dialogue interesting, and if I’m bogged down in a book I’ll skip ahead until I see those inevitable quote marks. It’s rare that I skip dialogue, unless it’s bad. Then I shelve the book.

This is where writing becomes hard work.

Here’s a sample from the Hermit, and it’s hideous:

“Could he survive this?” he asked. 

“Will we?” asked another. “He’s one person. We’re an entire colony.” 

“That may be true, Mister North, but he’s in the thick of it. We’ll see a thousandth of the poison he’s getting. We’ve had to ground shuttles since we lost the seventeen aboard the Wilbur Wright, and the poison only got inside in trace amounts,” said a third. “Lucky we’ve got that atmosphere protecting the colony. We’re cut off for a while, until the cloud settles. He’s got nothing.” 

“Both the Solar Settlers and the IAU warned him he was out of bounds,” Mister North said. “Both said no aid would be forthcoming in the vent of illness or disaster. Many of your spacers have ignored that agreement and offered him aid, setting a precedent, mind you, that has caused us trouble on Phobos, Apophis and, if the rumors are to be believed, soon enough on Charon. Charon! Yes, some idiot, inspired by Hoagland’s Angel, aims to be the first to settle on Charon. It’s a leelte out of our territory, but their sympathizers on Earth are gunning to make these Outliers our responsibility. And it’s not in the budget, Artur. It’s not.” 

There’s something to work with there, yes, but Mister North sounds, as Terry Pratchett might put it, like his bum is stuffed with tweed. It’s going to need a fix:

“Could he survive this?” he asked.

“I’m more worried about us.” 

“Oh, we’ll struggle for a bit. But we’ll be fine. We’ll see a thousandth of the poison he’s getting. We’ve grounded the shuttles since we lost the Wilbur Wright,” said a third. “but we’ve got atmosphere protecting the colony. We’re cut off for a while, until the cloud settles. He’s got nothing.” 

“Both the Solar Settlers and the IAU warned him he was out of bounds,” Mister North said. “If you call for help, no one will come. He gets help anyway – your spacers ignore our advice and help him out. And he’s set a precedent. We’ve got squatters on Phobos and Aphohis, and, if the rumors are true, soon enough on Charon. Charon! It’s a leetle out of our territory, but their sympathizers on Earth are gunning to make these Outliers our responsibility. And it’s not in the budget, Artur. It’s not.” 

Here’s something interesting. It’s better – not perfect – and it’s shorter. That’s 154 words versus 200 words. I don’t get lost as much in the conversation. There’s less said, less detail offered, but what detail is left out either isn’t necessary or can be guessed by the gist of the conversation. Further versions may be shorter still, or at least broken up into shorter paragraphs, making them easier to digest.

So, progress continues apace.