How to Write Better Dialogue
Here are the top 10 dialogue mistakes I’ve seen story and novel writers make — along with tips for how to fix them in your own writing.
Whether you’re writing your first story or finishing your third novel, take a glance back through your dialogue and scenes and try out some of these tips.
1. Check for incorrect grammar, punctuation, or attribution
Pick up a copy of Strunk and White or head to your nearest internet browser for a refresher on commas and quotations, exclamation points and attributions.
Here’s a version of a scene riddled with all sorts of errors. See if you can spot them all.
“I don’t think I can do it” I said. I looked down into the canyon beneath my feet.
“I thought you said you were adventurous,” he grinned.
I grabbed the railing to steady myself: “I meant that I liked Ethiopian food and the occasional horror movie.”
“I wish you’d said something before we drove all the way out here!”.
“Why did you even think I’d want to go bungee-jumping on a first date”? I asked, aware that my voice bordered on the hysterical. The wind was picking up, and the bridge we were on seemed to sway.
“You sounded fun” he said “like you were up for anything.”
“I am fun.” I insisted. He laughed.
“Come on then,” he said, grabbing my arm.
“Let’s jump together.”
But I was already hoisting myself back over the railing, back to safety — “Not on your life.”
Here’s the corrected version:
“I don’t think I can do it,” I said. I looked down into the canyon beneath my feet.
“I thought you said you were adventurous.” He grinned.
I grabbed the railing to steady myself. “I meant that I liked Ethiopian food and the occasional horror movie.”
“I wish you’d said something before we drove all the way out here!”
“Why did you even think I’d want to go bungee-jumping on a first date?” I asked, aware that my voice bordered on the hysterical. The wind was picking up, and the bridge we were on seemed to sway.
“You sounded fun,” he said, “like you were up for anything.”
“I am fun,” I insisted.
He laughed. “Come on then,” he said, grabbing my arm. “Let’s jump together.”
But I was already hoisting myself back over the railing, back to safety. “Not on your life.”
2. Don’t use too many uncommon tags instead of “said”
“We should get going,” he exclaimed.
“I need to find the grocery list,” she cried.
“Fine. I’ll start the car,” he replied.
“No, wait,” she gasped. “It’s right on the counter.”
Uncommon tags draw the reader’s attention to the dialogue they’re marking. They’re like arrows that tell the reader, “This is important and unusual, so pay attention!” Too many uncommon tags can overwhelm your dialogue and weigh it down. Use them judiciously to convey tone or provide additional information about your character.
“Said” is typically regarded as an invisible word, so feel free to use it as often as you need — and save your uncommon tags for moments that warrant their use.
Here’s an alternate version with a dash of emphasis:
“We should get going.”
“I need to find the grocery list,” she said.
He jangled the keys in his hand. “Fine. I’ll start the car,” he said.
“No, wait,” she shouted triumphantly. “It’s right on the counter.”
(Look, it’s not going to win the Pulitzer Prize, but it’s a starting point.)
3. Don’t use too few tags
“I love you.”
“What is love anyway?”
“Usually, it’s just a concept, but for me, it’s the real thing.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Well, I think I love you,” he said.
“Think or know?”
“Now, I’m not so sure.”
“When will you be sure?”
“I have no idea.”
Confused? Me too.
Tag your dialogue often enough so that your readers are never confused about who’s speaking when. This is especially important if your characters’ voices aren’t very distinct from one another.
4. But also don’t use too many tags
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“I heard a noise coming from your apartment,” she said.
“What kind of noise?” he asked.
“You know you’re not allowed to have cats in here, right?” she asked.
“We don’t have a cat,” he said.
“Must have been the TV,” she said.
“National Geographic,” he said.
“Some kind of documentary?” she asked.
“That’s right. About big cats,” he said.
“Sounded like a little cat to me,” she said.
Don’t tag every single line of dialogue. If you’ve done your job in establishing voice and rhythm, your reader will be able to easily follow the flow of conversation. You can use indirect attribution to change the pace of the pattern and to interject some additional information about how the characters are moving through the physical space, what they’re thinking, what they’re doing, etc.
Here’s the alternate version of the scene above:
“What’s this about?”
“I heard a noise coming from your apartment,” she said.
“What kind of noise?”
“You know you’re not allowed to have cats in here, right?” She tried to peer over his shoulder into the dark apartment, though luckily, her heels did little to give her any height advantage.
He leaned against the door frame and leveled his gaze against hers. “We don’t have a cat,” he said and crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. No need to seem defensive.
She paused. “Must have been the TV.”
“National Geographic.”
“Some kind of documentary?” she asked lightly, as if she were a coworker looking for Netflix recommendations and not a landlord with the power to evict him, his girlfriend, and their cat — er, TV.
“That’s right. About big cats,” he said.
“Sounded like a little cat to me.”
5. Don’t include too many descriptors
“I love you,” he said with a big smile on his face as he greeted his wife.
“Thank you,” she said warmly, embracing him and kissing his cheek.
“I brought you flowers,” he whispered tenderly in her ear.
“You really shouldn’t have,” she whispered back softly.
Your tags should be working in tandem with your dialogue to reveal interesting or important information about your characters. At the end of each scene, ask yourself what your audience learned — you might be surprised to find you’ve learned something yourself as well. Maybe you’ve gotten closer to discovering your protagonist’s central motivation. Maybe you’ve discovered they have a certain tell when they’re lying. A lot of this information will bubble up to the surface largely unconsciously in the first (or second or third) draft. It’s your job to sift through these subconscious choices, discarding the irrelevant ones, and polishing up those you deliberately want to include in your finished story.
Your goal in writing strong dialogue is to have it convey tone, meaning, and emotion, with the help of meaningful descriptors.
A good scene is all about balancing how much your dialogue conveys versus how much its aided by your descriptors.
Here’s the same scene, with the same dialogue as above, written in a new and unexpected light. Notice how flexible the dialogue is and how it can take on new shades of meaning that subvert the reader’s expectations.
“I love you,” he said. His eyes glinted in the candlelight as he stalked toward her with a letter in one hand and the other behind his back.
“Thank you,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I brought you flowers.” He shook the bouquet of daisies at her. How could he have known? How could he have known about her deathly allergy?
“You really shouldn’t have,” she gasped, her throat tight. She stood suddenly, her chair hitting the wall behind her. She was trapped.
6. Avoid back and forth dialogue with not enough physicality
“Look out the window,” I said.
“I’m driving, so I’m always looking out the window.”
“No, look out my window.”
“All I see is corn,” he said.
“Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“Something’s moving in the corn.”
“That’s it. As soon as we get home, I’m taking you to an optometrist.”
“My eyesight’s just fine, Frank.”
“Well, I don’t see anything.”
“There it is again! It looks like — oh my god, it’s a child!”
Dialogue with very little physicality or interiority can feel disembodied. Ground your scene with physical details to enrich the reader’s experience of the scene and bring them closer to your characters, particularly if the visual components of your scene have the potential to reveal information not conveyed in the dialogue.
7. And also avoid too much unimportant physicality
But too much unimportant physicality for the sake of physicality will overwhelm your reader. Give just enough detail to direct your reader’s focus. What do you want them to see in the scene?
“Did you see that?” I asked, pressing my face to the passenger side window of the car so that my breath fogged up the glass. The glass was cold but my seat was comfortable and warm, which was nice.
I watched him scan the horizon without taking his eyes off the road and then he shrugged his shoulders. “See what?”
“Something’s moving in the corn,” I said, pointing toward the corn fields along the side of the road. I searched his face for a sign that he was taking this seriously.
“That’s it,” he said, following the direction of my finger with his eyes. “As soon as we get home, I’m taking you to an optometrist.”
“My eyesight’s just fine, Frank,” I said, sitting up in my seat.
“Well, I don’t see anything,” he said, still driving. He squinted at me and then he looked again at the corn fields as if trying to see between the stalks more clearly.
“There it is again!” I shrieked, putting my hands over my mouth. I pointed at the corn again. “It looks like — oh my god, it’s a child!”
8. Don’t overwhelm your scene with too much unimportant interiority
“Did you see that?” I asked. I was worried that my husband Frank wouldn’t take my question seriously — he rarely took my questions seriously, especially when they had to do with things related to road trips and landscapes. I hoped this wasn’t one of those times.
“See what?” he asked. It was clear to me now that he hadn’t seen what I’d seen in the corn. Perhaps I hadn’t even seen anything myself. I tried to remember everything about the shape I thought I’d seen moments ago, but we were driving so fast. I snuck a glance at the speedometer. It read 60 mph, which was fast, I thought, for a small country road in between two massive cornfields. But perhaps it wasn’t so fast at all. I didn’t do much driving, so I suppose I couldn’t be sure.
“Something’s moving in the corn,” I said, finding my voice again. I had seen something there a few moments ago. I was starting to become nervous now. I could feel my palms getting clammy and the collar of my shirt getting tight. I wanted to turn on the air conditioner, but then I remembered that it was fall and that it was already fairly chilly outside.
“That’s it. As soon as we get home, I’m taking you to an optometrist,” he said.
“My eyesight’s just fine, Frank.” At least, I thought my eyesight was fine. It was true that I was sixty-five years old and that at that age, one’s eyesight could definitely start going. I tried to think back to my last eye exam but couldn’t remember when it was. I didn’t want to ask Frank because that would just prove his point, except that I knew for a fact that Frank’s memory wasn’t what it used to be either.
“Well, I don’t see anything,” Frank huffed.
“There it is again!” I shrieked. My hands were now dripping pools of sweat. I hadn’t felt this terrified since I had been asked to host Thanksgiving dinner four years ago and I forgot to defrost the turkey. This was, decidedly, much worse than that. “It looks like — oh my god, it’s a child!” I gasped. I wish Frank had listened to me to begin with. Now, I didn’t know what to do next.
You don’t need your scene to be a record of every single thought your character has. Just like too much physicality, too much interiority can be overwhelming and it can slow down the pace of a scene. If your character’s about to defuse a bomb, they’re not going to stop to hash out when they last ate or how they feel about their co-workers — they don’t have time for that! Don’t undercut the urgency of your scene with a deep dive into your character’s consciousness.
Again, give just enough detail to ground the scene.
9. Try not to begin a conversation too early, before anything important has been said
Alice sat on the couch, waiting for her husband Joe to get home from work. She’d already changed out of her pencil skirt and suit into her pajamas and was having her second glass of chardonnay. She had Joe’s mail fanned out on the coffee table with the envelope that was supposed to contain his Christmas bonus torn open.
She’d been waiting for that Christmas bonus for several months now. They’d been planning to start construction on it as soon as the check was cashed — even though it was the middle of winter. Prices were low and availability was high. It had seemed like a good plan. Until she actually saw the check.
She heard the door open. “Hey,” Joe called from the foyer.
“Hey, babe,” Alice said. She finished off her wine.
“How’s it going?” Joe asked, appearing from around the corner. “Work was good?”
“It was okay. How was your day?”
“Same. Not much to report.”
“That’s good. Wow. Look at us with our grown-up jobs.”
“Yeah,” Alice said.
Joe draped his jacket over the back of the couch, something Alice had always hated and took a seat across from her. “Just tell me. What’s wrong? I can see something’s bothering you.”
Alice chuckled nervously. “Nothing’s wrong.” Joe raised an eyebrow. “It’s just — how long have you known?” Alice asked, gesturing toward the envelope.
“The Christmas bonus.” Her husband sighed. “Two months. Give or take.”
Begin the dialogue when the tension starts. Cut out unnecessary greetings, small talk, and filler while your characters build up to the meat of your scene. Just cut to the chase!
Alice sat on the couch, waiting for Joe to get home from work. She had his mail fanned out on the coffee table. She’d been waiting for that Christmas bonus for several months now. They’d been planning to start construction on it as soon as the check was cashed — even though it was the middle of winter.
She heard the door open. “Work was good?” Joe asked, appearing from around the corner.
“Yeah,” Alice said.
Joe draped his jacket over the back of the couch, something Alice had always hated and took a seat across from her. “Just tell me. What’s wrong? I can see something’s bothering you.”
Alice chuckled nervously. “Nothing’s wrong.” Joe raised an eyebrow. “It’s just — how long have you known?” Alice asked, gesturing toward the torn envelope.
“The Christmas bonus.” Her husband sighed. “Two months. Give or take.”
10. Don’t end a conversation too late, after the scene is already over
Here’s what not to do:
Alice had been crying for what felt like an hour. She and Joe had both had several mugs of tea, which still sat, unwashed, on the kitchen table between them.
“So you’re saying you’ve known you weren’t getting a Christmas bonus for two months?”
Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but — ”
“But it doesn’t matter because we still have enough money for the swimming pool down payment.”
“We’ll have that swimming pool in time for summer, I promise.”
Alice looked out the window into their backyard where there was currently no swimming pool. “If we’re lucky,” she said, chasing her frosty words with a swig of cold tea.
“I think it’ll be all right.”
“I don’t think it will. I really, really wanted that swimming pool. Now.”
“It’s the middle of winter. Besides, we’re still getting a swimming pool.”
“On installments!” she wailed.
“But don’t forget! We’re getting that Cheese of the Month subscription, too!” Joe offered in what he hoped was an excited voice as he reached for her hand.
Alice groaned and pulled away in disgust. “If I have to hear about the Cheese of the Month subscription one more time, I’ll, I’ll — ?”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m going to bed.” She gathered up her mugs and one by one, dumped the dregs of tea in the sink. “I’ll wash them in the morning,” she said bitterly.
Joe could only watch her walk down the hall. He thought he heard her muttering, “Cheese of the Month,” under her breath as she clomped up the stairs.
In general, try to begin and end a conversation as close to the end as you can. The reasoning for this is to inject some urgency into your writing. Plus, this’ll prevent you from writing endlessly toward your scene’s conclusion.
End the scene when the tension is over. If you find yourself rehashing an argument or repeating lines, distill your dialogue into your most interesting few lines. Unless, of course, you’re very deliberate about your repetition and are making it a feature of the scene — perhaps a character sounds like a broken record, on purpose.
You don’t have to wrap your scene up with a bow. No need to hang up the phone and say goodbye. You can end it on a scathing missive if you want to.
Here’s the revised version:
Alice had been crying for what felt like an hour. She and Joe had both had several mugs of tea, which still sat, unwashed, on the kitchen table between them.
“We’ll have that swimming pool in time for summer, I promise.”
Alice looked out the window into their backyard where there was currently no swimming pool. “If we’re lucky,” she said, chasing her frosty words with a swig of cold tea.
“But don’t forget! We’re getting that Cheese of the Month subscription, too!” Joe offered in what he hoped was an excited voice as he reached for her hand.
Alice groaned and pulled away in disgust. She gathered up her mugs and one by one, dumped the dregs of tea in the sink. “I’ll wash them in the morning,” she said bitterly.
Joe could only watch her walk down the hall. He thought he heard her muttering, “Cheese of the Month,” under her breath as she clomped up the stairs.
Take-Aways
A good scene is all about finding balance. You’re trying to balance the dialogue vs. the descriptors, the pacing, and the tension and urgency of the scene.
Decide what you want your scene to do. Does it simply reveal necessary information about the characters’ backstory? Does it pit two people against one another in a tense situation? Does it convey an emotional moment?
Once you decide what important bits you want to get across, write towards them and trim what doesn’t add anything to your story. Take an existing scene and try some of these tips yourself! You might be pleasantly surprised by the results!
