Day Seventeen- Excuse Me, I Speak Jive

Okay, so some of you may remember the above dialogue from Airplane. (It's also why occasionally I say that I picked a bad day to stop sniffing glue... for those of you wondering if I had a drug habit.) They pick the most ludicrous person of all to speak "jive" of course--the older lady.

I'm currently listening to an audiobook that makes me want to stick pencils in my ears because the author thinks she speaks jive. She sooooo doesn't. Her twenty-one year old MC has the out-dated image of what a twenty-one year old was like--well twenty-one years ago... or longer. Her dialogue is hokey. The ideas are old-fashioned. It's just not reality. The problem is that this particular writer has been writing for thirty or forty years. Her audience has grown with her and, lucky for her, they're near her age. Okay. Fine. Write for your fans. That's fine. On the other hand, keep your characters over the age of thirty or forty, because you CAN'T write from the viewpoint of anyone under that age. Ugh. It's so terrible that it defies description. I've tried to explain the sheer awfulness of it, but it's just not possible. The two MCs are like caricatures of twenty year olds. I nearly want someone else to listen to it to share the horror that is this book.

So, that brings me to the topic of "speaking jive." I think about half of us are writing for a YA audience--at least at times. We've discussed language before, but it just keeps dancing around my brain.

I once read a review on Amazon from a mom on a book that was vying for the "Breakthrough Novel Award" and she said something to the effect of: This book is simply not realistic because there isn't any swearing in it. On the other hand, I wouldn't let my daughter read it if there was swearing in it. Well, that's what we call "a paradox", isn't it? I think a lot of parents feel that way. How will our intended audience feel about it?

Do they want reality?

Uhh...

Do they want something that dodges around reality without getting their book snatched yet without being patronizing?

That's a fuzzy line. A really fuzzy line.

That's even before you get to slang... and my personal conundrum: texting.

I'm currently writing the occasional text conversations into this book, but I'm not writing them in "text speak" because it would make my head explode. Seriously. It would. My sister and I text back and forth, and I use full sentences and punctuation. I feel like texting is contributing to the fall of grammar as we know it. I was reading a book with text conversations in it--painful. Agony. I felt brain cells dying.

Suddenly, I find myself questioning: am I doing the same thing this author--who has nearly driven me to drink--is doing? Am I attempting to speak jive when really I'm not?

How do you handle these things?

Now, for the Seussian challenge in regards to texting conversations: "Would you, could you in a box? Would you, could you--with a fox?"

No, Sam I am, I really, really couldn't. If it comes to writing the conversations in text speak, I'll cut them--rather than make my eyes bleed. That's even besides the fact that I can't speak that level of jive. Shudder. It makes me want to climb into a corner and sing songs like Kum-ba-ya.

Day Four- The Dialogue that Ate the Plot

So, a year and a month ago, my brother Adam received an email from me-- I can't be sure, but it may have been the one where I was pulled over by a cop for going backwards up an on-ramp when the poorly tied-on mattress on top of my car became a sail. He said something to the effect of "You should really write a book." I laughed and then thought, "Can I do that?"

I decided to write about what I knew--a female with OCD. I threw in a mystery, a guy named Julio, a car that seemed alive, a strange company, and voila! A novel was born. Three things shocked me.

1. That I could finish a novel--a whole novel. I felt all writerly.

2. It didn't suck. People read it. (biased people) They said it didn't suck.

3. I did it in around two or three weeks.

Say what? Three weeks?

I know. Subsequently, the manuscripts I wrote sometimes took the same amount of time. I'd dive into writing, bury myself in a story, and emerge shortly after that with a fully-formed novel. Instead of feeling good about it, though... it felt strange. Who can write a novel in two weeks, after all? It can't be good, right? This still baffles me... and it still feels a bit... well... cheap. I feel guilty because I can write so fast. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with my writing?

I think... byabout the time I reach 20,000 words... what I've written can't be good. It can't be healthy. It just can't be.

How? Why? What's wrong with me?

Yesterday, I was reading a "cheats" for NaNoWriMo on someone's blog. (No, I don't need cheats but I find such things fascinating.) They said to add dialogue because dialogue adds words in massive amounts.

A light went on above my head. No joke. It was all cartoony and freaky, and I quickly slapped it away. (Now you see why some of my paintings are so odd.)

I write about eighty percent of my stories in dialogue. So, I started flipping through books looking at the dialogue to exposition or whatever ratio. I still have no idea what the average amount of dialogue is--or if there is even an average, but I think I really tip the scale with my dialogue. Is that bad? Is that good? I have no idea. It is what it is.

Anyway, I just noticed that, so I'm trying to add a little more between dialogue from now on.

I have to run to Yoga. Today is going to be busy for me. Have a good Wednesday everyone on this side of the globe... and I'll see all of you tomorrow on the other side of the globe. (That totally made no sense.)

Complaining done right.

This is outside of acceptable!

First, I have T home again! He went to school, but the school called home because he has a "stomach ache" and he's home again.

I told him I was proud of him for going to school with a tummy ache and he said, "No... I have a STOMACH ACHE not a tummy ache."

"So, what? You have a more mature and sophisticated version of sickness, T?"

He rolled his eyes. (Keep in mind... he is six. The boy has drama and angst.) "No, a tummy ache feels like bubbles and wiggling inside. A stomach ache is painful."

See... this is why arguing is difficult.

Secondly, I won't be able to run today because he is home--regardless of whether or not I should.

Thirdly, I had things to do.

Fourth (ly) I now have an even number of followers, and I'm relying on you, who know that I don't care for even numbers, to keep those numbers odd at all times.

Finally, I can't figure out which one of my WIPs to work on, and I'm losing sleep over it. I barely slept at all last night again. I'm so tired.

So, now... you're thinking, "Wendy, it's odd to hear so much whining out of you." Or... maybe you're not surprised, in which case, you should lie.

This was meant to illustrate one of the key points to effective dialogue as taught to us by human nature. I once was an opitical manager and a brilliant man, the doctor I worked with, once said, "When you're listening to people's concerns and complaints, it's important to listen to the first and last thing they say. The rest of it is often filler." After I learned this lesson, it became so much easier to focus on what a person was saying vs. what they meant.

I'm passing this wisdom along to you as a lesson in creating effective dialogue. There needs to be filler. Conversations have plenty of filler crap. Still, the points that your characters feel strongly about should be in the appropriate spots.

For the record, the even number thing is bothering me and as a bonus lesson in human nature---you should also remember that people often down-play the importance of their faults and foibles with humor or sarcasm. Plus, drawing attention to flaws is often a cathartic process frequently used--especially by women. I would guess at some point that most women will admit to drawing attention to a blemish on their face. "Look! I have this gigantic zit on my face." Everyone looks, because they've been given permission. It feels like you've acknowleged it as a flaw and therefore downplayed it's importance.

There. You're now on your way to more effective complaining on paper. Congrats. The world is yours.

Now, someone else follow me because this is really chapping.