Schellhardt Laura. Screenwriting for Dummies
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It may be used to create the stutter of confusion, love, or fear:
“What I meant was, what I meant to say just then, was to ask, that is I
would like to know, I would like very much to know if you might consider,
just consider mind you, going out sometime.”
It may be also be used to portray eagerness or demand:
“Did you get it? Well? Did you? Did you get the job?”
As a writer, you must find a way to create heightened and carefully selected
dialogue under the guise of naturalistic conversation. Punctuation and repeti-
tion make that task considerably easier.
The sound of silence
Dialogue isn’t made up of words alone. Silences are as important and, some-
times, more important for conveying intent on-screen. If words are implied, a
silence may take the place of an entire conversation. However, bear in mind
that silences in film are usually conveyed through action or gesture.
Characters do something instead of saying something.
I should distinguish between a natural pause in conversation and the pauses
that you’ll use throughout your script in place of words. If I wrote in every
natural pause, I’d add at least ten unnecessary pages to my screenplay. Leave
natural pauses to the actors. If your scenario is strong enough and your char-
acter voices clear, a good actor will know how to say the line.
Pauses are scripted when a writer wants to do one of two things:
Highlight the last line spoken
Suggest to readers and audience alike that some nonverbal exchange is
taking place.
If your last line is a humdinger, if you want your audience to remember it,
script a pause after it. This pause allows the line to linger before the next
action directs attention elsewhere. Practice rewriting generic or otherwise
neutral dialogue with these three musical elements, or layer them into a
scene from your script. You should be able to say essentially the same thing
with different emotions in mind and, therefore, with varying rhythms.
Listening: The Other Half of Conversation
With all this talk about talk, it’s easy to forget that conversations also involve
listening, and the way your character listens will affect the rhythm and qual-
ity of his dialogue. In life, people generally listen in one of five ways:
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Noncommital listening: Noncommital listeners are either not interested
in what’s being said, or they’re too distracted to hear it. This type of lis-
tening often results in vague responses or abrupt switches in conversa-
tion. For example:
“So, I had lunch with Daphne the other day.”
“Uh-huh.”
“She mentioned you hadn’t talked to her in awhile.”
“Oh?”
“She seemed upset about it actually.”
“You don’t say.”
Noncommital listeners are only pretending to listen; in reality, they’re just
waiting for the other person to stop talking.
Selective listening: Selective listeners have their own agenda. They hear
the parts of conversation that relate that agenda and nothing more.
Selective listeners commonly interrupt each other, especially when in
the throes of some grand passion. One person’s thought is triggered by a
word or phrase directly before it. For example:
“So, I had lunch with Daphne the other day, and —”
“Daphne. I haven’t seen her in, well I can’t think of the last time we —”
“She mentioned you hadn’t called. I told her you were busy and —”
“Of course she did. She always was one to keep track of —”
“Now, now. There’s no need to start in on —”
“Really though. What right has she to talk about our friendship with —”
“The same right as you, I suppose.”
Can you sense the trigger words? The urge to speak generally occurs well
before the current speaker is finished talking. This is because selective listen-
ers only hear half, if not less, of what’s said to them.
Selfish listening: Selfish listeners find a way to relate the conversation
to their own experience. They believe they’re being helpful, when in real-
ity they’re using one person’s concerns as an invitation to talk about
themselves.
“So, I had lunch with Daphne the other day. It sounds like she may be get-
ting a divorce.”
“I don’t envy her. My divorce was awful. Did I ever tell you how I finally
made the decision to leave?”
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“No. I don’t think you did. But Daphne seems okay with it.”
“She may feel that way now. But give it time. When I first got divorced, I
thought things would get easier. . . .”
You get the picture. While selfish listeners may have good intentions, they
really only have one person in mind.
Attentive listening: Attentive listeners actually care about the person
speaking, and they don’t have an agenda of their own. They don’t usu-
ally offer advice or anecdotes; they’re content to simply be present for
the other person. Psychiatrists and counselors of any kind often fall into
this category.
Active listening: Active listeners take part in the conversation. They
might repeat or paraphrase what the speaker is saying. They often ask
questions that clarify or encourage the speaker to elaborate.
“So I had lunch with Daphne the other day.”
“You had lunch with Daphne? How does she look?”
“Not well. She may be getting a divorce.”
“No! That’s horrible. Did she say why?”
Active listeners are so called because they take an active part in drawing
conversation out of someone else. For this reason, you might see active
listening between life-long friends, reporters, or police officers trying to
obtain information for a case.
How your character listens will vary according to who he’s listening to and
what the subject matter is. However, this attribute is as important as how
your character talks. It contributes as much to dialogue as the words do.
Putting It Together: Letting
Your Characters Speak
Okay, you’ve chosen a vocabulary, a sound, and a rhythm for your charac-
ters. You’re ready to write an entire scene. Where do you begin? You might
simply start writing and see where the discourse takes you. However, if
you’re pressed for time or want to approach the task in a more organized
fashion, you may find it helpful to outline a few things about the scene before
you start writing.
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Setting the scene
Here are a few elements to consider immediately before you write any scene,
but especially one with dialogue.
Which roles are your characters playing now? Each character plays a
variety of different roles throughout her day. Each role speaks in a differ-
ent way. Your protagonist may be a mother, a friend, and a boss. As the
mother, she may be nurturing and kind; as a boss, demanding and curt.
Before crafting your scene, determine what relationship the characters
have and how that relationship affects their dialogue.
What is the status or perceived status between the characters? When
a veteran employee addresses the new hire, he may instantly assume
higher status. After all, he knows the company fairly well, so he has
knowledge to impart. His dialogue may be pompous, authoritative, or
stern. If he later discovers that the new hire will soon be his boss, that
diction may change. Determine the perceived level of status between the
characters in advance.
What does each character want? What your characters say in a scene is
determined by what they hope to gain from each other. Your characters
may flat out demand what they want, or the dialogue may code for
what’s really being discussed. Before you start writing, try to determine
what each character wants and who, if anyone, will get it.
What will change during, or as a result of, the exchange? Every strong
scene relies on tension, on risk, or on mystery. Scenes in which friends
discuss the weather are dull no one is being changed by the experience.
If they’re talking about the weather to avoid talking about an impending
medical operation, the scene becomes more interesting. This technique
is known as subtext.
People rarely say exactly what they mean. Instead they employ a variety
of tactics to glean the information they’re after. When one character talks
about one subject in order to avoid talking or to ascertain information about
another, subtext is present. Subtext is everything that’s not being stated explic-
itly between characters, and which therefore underscores the entire scene.
After you’ve outlined these four things, you’re ready to write. By this time,
the characters should have plenty to say. After all, they’ve waited all this time
to say it. However, if you get stuck, you can always return to one component
of their voices — the diction, the music, or the rhythm — and see what’s
lacking. You also have an outline of the scene’s action and objective to keep
you afloat.
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Dialogue do’s and don’ts
The challenge of great dialogue is that it has to accomplish specific tasks
while drawing little attention to itself. Remember that you’re creating the
illusion of average conversation, but there’s really nothing average about it.
Characters perform extraordinary actions, and they’re also able to articulate
thoughts and emotions that many people never express.
Developing good dialogue
Strong dialogue does the following:
Combines distinct voices
Reveals character and character relationships
Propels the action forward
Conveys pertinent information or exposition
Prepares an audience for events to come
Grows out of events in the past
If your dialogue seems flat or uninteresting, check to see whether it’s accom-
plishing at least two of these goals. If it’s not, revise it with another one in
mind. If it is accomplishing two things on this list but it still feels flat, look at
the character relationships more closely. Most dialogue feels flat because, in
a sense, it’s not moving forward. In other words, the lines don’t know what
they want to accomplish, so they’re not accomplishing anything. In the most
interesting dialogue, characters want something from each other, and they
switch tactics according to how close or far they are from obtaining it. Can
your characters more actively try to acquire, convince, elicit, or demand
some response from the others? If you know what your language is doing in
each scene, it won’t remain flat for long.
Crafting a scene with these dialogue goals in mind is helpful. However, you
can enhance one or two facets of the exchange after you’ve written it. Here
are a few ways to rework it:
Speak it out loud. Always test your dialogue by speaking it out loud
yourself. If you stumble over the words, an actor will, too.
Let other people read it out loud. Sometimes, you can’t tell what’s
wrong with an exchange until you’ve heard it. The dialogue may sound
great in your head and lousy out loud. See what an objective reader has
to say.
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Build your scene toward some point. Every line, every speech, and
every scene culminates in some resounding moment. Know what shift
your scene is building toward and eliminate any detail that distracts an
audience from it. If the man gets the girl at the end of the scene, make it
difficult for him to do so, but not impossible.
When in doubt, cut it out. Too many images, silences, or words clutter
up the action. You have minutes (sometimes seconds) of screen time for
every scene. One image can speak volumes; one well-phrased line may
resonate for pages. Try not to repeat yourself. Keep your story moving
aggressively forward.
Avoiding bad dialogue
If you know what kind of dialogue to avoid in advance, you may be better
equipped to write a convincing scene. Take a look at these top five dialogue
offenders, so that you can avoid these pitfalls:
1) Too “on the money”
This type of dialogue tells rather than suggests. In these scenes, characters
divulge information with seemingly no reason to do so. As a result, the dia-
logue sounds manufactured instead of organic.
“Dad, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you called. I’ve been waiting all
these years for some sign that you missed me.”
“Of course I missed you, honey. I’ve been so miserable here alone. Just
hearing your voice makes me want to cry.”
The conversation would sound more natural with silences, hesitancy to
speak, or awkward stops and starts. They’re speaking for the first time after
an extended absence — how comfortable can they be? Here’s how I might
rework it:
“Dad, I can’t tell you how . . . I mean, it’s been so long, you know? I guess
I’m just really glad you called.”
“I know. I’ve missed you too.”
Note that what’s left unsaid is often inherent in what’s said. The daughter
doesn’t need to tell her dad that she’s waited all these years for a sign from
him, because it’s inherent in how difficult it is for her to speak with him. The
subtext of the scene makes it all worthwhile.
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2) Too repetitious
Repetition is a great tool for crafting rhythms. However, like any technique, it
can become overbearing. Repetition of first names, phrases, or ideas has a
tendency to slip into first-draft dialogue uninvited and overlooked.
“Larry, can you hand me that wrench?”
“This wrench? Sure thing, Phil, I’d be happy to.”
“Thanks, Lar, this wrench works on everything.”
“No problem, Phil. I’ve got a wrench like that at home.”
We rarely use first names more than once or twice in everyday conversa-
tions. They slow down your line, so strike them whenever you can. Also,
make sure every line of the dialogue takes you somewhere else. This
exchange sounds better if you keep the first line and a few words more and
then alter the rest. For example:
“Hey, Larry. Can you hand me that wrench?”
“Sure thing. Careful though, it’s Dad’s.”
“Right. He used this to fix just about everything when we were young,
didn’t he?”
“Pretty much. Everything except his marriage, that is.”
Now the speech patterns resemble those of a real conversation, and the con-
versation becomes about something more important than a wrench.
3) Too similar
When characters begin to sound alike, scenes become about information and
not about people. If I can close my eyes and identify a speaker by the sound
of her voice, you’ve done a good job crafting the dialogue. If all the charac-
ters sound alike, you’ve got work to do.
“Did you go to the party last night?”
“Yeah. Were you there?”
“Yeah. It was great, huh?”
“Pretty great, yeah.”
First of all, nothing’s happening in the scene. Also, both characters have the
same voice. Here’s a tip: If you glance at your page and notice that every
character has roughly the same number of lines in each section, your charac-
ters probably need some help.
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Here’s a potential rewrite:
“Did you go to the party last night?”
“Hell yes. Never miss a party, man. Never, never miss a party. Were you
there?
“Yeah. It was okay”
“Okay? Man, what’s wrong with you, that party was stellar from jump.”
Again, the dramatic potential is iffy, but at least there are two distinct voices
in this conversation.
4) Too long or wordy
Lengthy dialogue often suggests a novice writer. You don’t need many words
in film because pictures do most of the work. Opinionated discourse and
philosophical discussions have no place in drama unless the fate of the world
rests on the outcome of that debate. Characters raving about a cause or
standing on a soapbox should be sent home.
“The campus didn’t act on this one because the administration doesn’t
care. Most large organizations are so adept at sending messengers to do
their work for them, or putting someone on hold while they grab lunch,
or nodding and looking the other direction that they’ve forgotten how to
act. Nothing happens anymore without red tape. If a question doesn’t
come with red tape, they’ll put some on it and hire someone to take it off.
This wasn’t always the case, but it is now. Good luck trying to get the
campus to act; I’ll be surprised if you even get a foot in the door.”
This entire speech is one opinion. Nothing new is said after the second line. If
you cut it by a third and give the person a clear reason for ranting, the
speech may get interesting. Here’s a potential reworking:
“The campus didn’t act, because the administration doesn’t care. You
think they’ll listen to you now? No way. They’ll get some secretary to
intercept you, they’ll put you on hold, by the time they’re done with you,
you’ll be nothing but a mound of red tape. No, it’s a lost cause tryin’ to
get this administration to act. Won’t even get your foot in the door.”
If you find yourself getting overly wordy, break the language up with lines of
action or description to remind the audiences what’s happening visually. You
don’t ever want them to forget what’s happening on the screen.
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5) Too flat
By flat I mean that no one’s in control of the scene. When characters have the
same amount of power, their conversations tend to be dull.
“He shouldn’t have gone behind my back.”
“That’s true. He shouldn’t have done that. And we’ll tell him.”
“Yeah. We’ll show him who’s boss.”
Active dialogue often depends on two people vying for control of the scene. If
you pit these two characters against each other, the scene is more exciting.
Notice how conflict enhances dialogue as vividly as it enhances action.
“You had no right to go behind my back.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It was stupid to even try.”
“Damn straight. And you’ll pay for it, too.”
“Or you could just let it go. After all, you owe me. Remember?”
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Who’s in control? Letting status enhance your scene
Power dynamics and the changes therein are
the most important elements of any cinematic
exchange. Why? Because the moment status
shifts between two people is the moment a
scene becomes active. We don’t go to the
movies just to hear people talk; we go to watch
them win or lose or both in rapid succession.
And while you can always go back and revise
scenes with status in mind, it helps to spin a
scene around it from the start. The following
exercises are meant to help you do just that.
One-Upmanship
The formula for this scene is simple. Create two
characters, quickly imagine what their relation-
ship is, and set them in a location. Public loca-
tions are often better when you start, as the
possibility of humiliation is high, but really any
space will do. Now I want you to imagine that
status will shift in this scene EVERY TIME a char-
acter speaks. In other words, if Character A
begins in control of the power, she’ll lose it or gain
more the moment Character B opens his mouth.
For example, consider this dramatic set-up:
Amy is head librarian at a prestigious university.
Ben is her relatively new assistant. The two of
them are placing labels on a large stack of books
at the main desk. The following are five lines of
dialogue in which status shifts every time:
AMY: Ben, really, you might consider taking
some pride in your work.
BEN: And you might consider loosening up.
AMY: And you might consider that I am your
superior, and insubordination is not tolerated
here.
BEN: So fire me. I dare you.
AMY: Don’t think I won’t. Just because your
father owns this university does not mean there
won’t be a consequence for your every action.
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In this example, each character regains power
on their line. Bear in mind it’s just as much fun to
let one character continue to relinquish power
while the other continues to take it:
AMY: Ben, you really might consider taking
some pride in your work.
BEN: You’re right. I’m a complete failure at orga-
nization.
AMY: I’ve tried not to mention it, but it’s true. I
don’t know anyone less competent at his job
than you are.
BEN: Oh it doesn’t stop there. I’m a failure at
everything I attempt. Look at me, I’m a wreck!
One Swipe at a Time
The formula for this scene is similar to One-
Upmanship, with one exception. You allow
Character A to remain in power for a little while,
script in a natural pause, and then let Character
B take control immediately after. For example:
AMY: Ben, you’re completely inept at this job.
And I’m sorry, really, to have to be the one to tell
you this. I’m sorry to rain on your seemingly
unending parade, but if not me, then who? Are
you listening to me?
BEN: I’m listening, yes.
Ben begins to stamp library books with surprising
gusto. One after another after another after. . . .
AMY: Because that’s another thing. Your attitude
is pathetic. We took a chance on you here, and
it was a gift, let me tell you. There were other
people up for this job, people more qualified
and, frankly, more interesting. People I’d be
happy to see on a daily basis.
Ben pushes the pile of books off the desk with
one swipe of his hand. The resulting crash
echoes through the space for a moment.
BEN: Were you born a monster, or is that an
acquired skill?
In this scenario, Ben has just taken control of
the scene. He may remain in control for awhile
before Amy regains it, or this line may mark the
end of the moment.
Both formulas can be attempted at any stage of
your writing process. They’re helpful when
you’re just beginning to flesh out your charac-
ters, and when you’re trying to revise a scene
that seems stagnant. The important thing is that
power is always changing hands. If a charac-
ter’s actions are motivated by a desire to win or
a fear of losing, something will always be hap-
pening in each scene.
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