People talk.
Language – into today’s post, spoken language – is a
powerful tool. When we form phenomes and morphemes into phrases and sentences
and paragraphs it communicates a thousand ideas. And when we speak, we open up
a world of social interaction that can’t be contained by silent gestures and
solitary thoughts.
Linguistic
Determinism is the idea that language not only helps us communicate
socially, but it also determines our thoughts and thought processes.
While the idea itself is not fully validated nor accepted by
all linguists and psychologists, it provided an interesting idea:
Do our words shape who we are?
In many ways, I think they do. Now, the point of this post
isn’t supposed to be a philosophical
discussion about the influence of a given language on the speaker’s thoughts
and consciousness, but I still wanted to point it out:
What we say – and how
we say it – matters.
Even when we talk alone.
Say what?
Let me try again, but at length.
Lonesome Talkers
Our characters like to talk. Even when the only thing they
have to talk to is a volley ball, like Tom Hank’s character in Cast Away. Wilson [the volleyball] is
one of the only things that keeps this fellow sane as he lives alone for quite some time.
Without language, we fall into silence and feel alone. Alone
for so long that even those of us who enjoy silence begin to feel… wrong.
We weren’t meant to be silent.
Some characters, however just don’t know how to shut up.
Instead, they talk and talk and talk. Your reader begins to
tire of them and even starts to complain about the talkativeness of your
character.
And others are the opposite. Some characters never talk at
all. This can be by circumstance, personality, or both. For instance, in my
current project, I have a character named Deyu. She’s an escaped slave girl who
is running from the trail of dead that follow her and she hardly ever speaks.
Her chapters are hard
sometimes, because a whole chapter can pass without a single sentence of
dialogue. That much narrative is difficult, to say the least. Even in the
chapters with other people involved (of which there are few, since she’s sort
of… running from everyone), she rarely ever speaks. From childhood, she’s been
talk to be silent. Never to cry, never to laugh, never to speak. So when she
has the opportunity to make noise, she avoids doing so. Instead, she’ll mumble
something awkwardly and slip away. Because of her status as a slave, she can
neither read nor write, and she hardly knows many spoken words to begin with,
beyond those shouted at her on a daily basis. Words of hate and anger and
indifference.
What do we do about the silent characters? And the talkative
ones?
First, silent
characters are okay. If they don’t speak, it’s not a bad thing. For my
character Deyu, it fits her character and her story arc for her to say very
little. Rather, her mental state and
inner thoughts become important. My alpha readers have noted this to be
especially true. When I write her chapters, but overlook her inner thoughts,
the chapters come across as weak or stale. But when her mental state is
communicated clearly, the chapter is gripping, especially for a first draft.
So. Let your silent
characters be silent. Just be sure to communicate
the inner words. Emotions and motives and thoughts become so important.
There are two kinds of talkative characters: those that
ramble and those that ramble.
Let me explain: the first kind of rambling is the character
who just talk and talks. They comment
on everything and do so in great detail.
If it’s in character for them, great. So long as it fits in your style and story to have a
character that describes everything in dialogue, go for it. I’ve read fantastic
books with rambly characters, characters who talk just to talk, but get away with
it.
Just don’t go too far.
When more than a page passes without anything happening
except your characters discussing the style of dress your heroine is wearing,
then it’s time to shut them up and get them moving.
The last are harder to deal with.
Because they’re a problem.
Rambling Alone
We all know the villainous cliché of talking too much.
Imagine this scenario, and you’ll find yourself in the
setting of a dozen poorly made movies and poorly written books [even some of
the good ones]:
The main character is captured. They’re at the mercy of the
villain and have everything to lose. The dastardly villain is holding them at
gunpoint (or sword point or death star point) along with the Love Interest, the
lovable Ally. Chances are, the Mentor is dead and nothing can stop the villain
now.
And what does the villain do? After all, they’ve waited the
whole story for this moment. They swore to kill the hero and all his friends,
and they’ve got the upper hand now.
The villain slaughters the hero and executes his plan
flawlessly right?
Well… no.
Instead, the villain talks.
Yup, I just described the average “Black Moment” scene of
action/adventure movies and almost every blockbuster movie ever.
Why is this a problem?
It’s unrealistic.
You don’t hear real stories about murderers who get caught
because they spent too long talking to their captives about their master plan.
Hitler didn’t almost win the Second World War because he
captured his enemies and told them his whole plan.
Stalin didn’t set up the USSR by setting up a “let’s share
our masterplans” meeting with the capitalist countries.
Terrorists don’t inspire fear by not killing people.
Real villains don’t have long monologues, explaining the
details of their plans, and they most certainly don’t wait to kill people
because they want to enjoy the experience.
Nope.
Now this cliché comes from one simple dilemma: authors write themselves into a corner, and
have to write themselves out. Much like the “character who died didn’t
really die” cliché, it comes out of laziness and a need for an escape.
This can be
written out of your story, if you refuse to use the cliché and instead find a
new way for your hero to win.
But there are other kinds of character monologues.
Three kinds of monologues you should avoid [not including
the one just outlined above]:
“Love Interest
declares their love.” And every single reason for it. This monologue
usually exists in teen thrillers and in romance novels. It can come from either
side of the relationship, but usually involves an excessive amount of
description. It’s like one character is trying to tell the audience all the
reasons we should like the other character.
That’s not how
character-reader connection works.
It’s also not how real romantic relationships work. No, I’m
not in one, but I’m surrounded by them and trust me: it doesn’t work that way.
You’re welcome.
“Mentor teaches Hero
[characteristic].” You can fill in the brackets with anything you want:
humility, courage, hunting, fighting, dancing, whatever.
Most of the things I just listed aren’t usually learned by
listening to a speech about them, right? You learn how to hunt by hunting, you
learn how to dance by dancing and you learn humility by being humbled.
But instead of learning by experience, the hero somehow learns
by listen to the Mentor character talking for a page or two?
Um no let’s not.
It’s like in the Star Wars prequels, as the various Jedi
Masters spew knowledge about the Dark/Light side of the force. The main
character never learns those things
he hears about.
Despite an interesting fact: he heard all about them.
So don’t teach by
words.
Teach by having your
character get off their lazy hindquarters and doing.
“Hero to others.”
This is most common in fantasy novels and medieval historical fiction. The main
character is usually a young [17-20] man who is leading an army [of more
experienced men, probably] into a battle that they should – statistically –
have no chance of winning [but they’ll win anyway, of course].
And so, right before the battle, this young man rides his
horse out in front of his army and gives this long speech about how they should
be brave and be proud of themselves and their country and how they’ll probably
not survive [ha…ha] and on and on and on.
This sort of thing also happens in other genres and
situations, but this is the most common and cliché one.
Two reasons why this is wrong [excluding the idea that the
50,000 soldiers can’t all hear the
MC?]:
1. Blatant ideal
spreading. This speech usually sums up the theme and ideals of the story.
It tells us to be brave and selfless and courageous and forgiving and whatnot.
Great. But… it doesn’t show us how and doesn’t give us the motivation
to do anything. So we won’t.
2. Show, don’t tell.
I like to talk about this idea even though I disagree with it on occasion. But
it fits here. When you want to show us all of the things your hero is about to
say, don’t have him… tell us.
Show us.
Show us the valiant charge, show us the grim determination.
That’s how to write a good story.
There are two types of characters: those who talk and those
who almost never talk.
Both are good, neither is strictly bad.
And either one can be used to show good story.
Related Posts:
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'Stalin didn’t set up the USSR by setting up a “let’s share our masterplans” meeting with the capitalist countries.'
ReplyDeleteBahahaha. Okay, bye.
Ehehehehehe I'm rather proud of that phrase, myself. :P
DeleteI will have my characters stop chattering senselessly. BUT THIS IS NOT THAT DAY!
ReplyDeleteI will not use villains who talk too much. BUT THIS IS NOT THAT DAY!
I will work on my monologues soon. BUT THIS IS NOT THAT DAY!
I will endeavor to not be as much the chatterbox as I am right now. BUT THIS IS NOT THAT DAY!
Aragorn was in his eighties, not twenties or late teens, but I thought the basic situation fitted. ;)
Thanks for another helpful post. ^_^
Ha, it's always a good time for Aragorn. ;)
Delete*thumbs up*