The Dialect Dilemma (or I dinna ken fit tae dee)

One of the things I learned when I lived in Scotland was the incredible differences in regional dialects. Just as a New Yorker sounds different than a Californian, a Glaswegian sounds different than an Aberdonian. Really different.

I lived in Peterhead, a fishing town that sticks out into the North Sea, and they speak in a Doric dialect that was unintelligible the first time I heard it. If they didn't want you to understand what they were saying, it was no problem. Combine that with the fact that I worked mainly with youth and teens and you can only imagine some of the texts I used to receive. Fit like? Far r u? (How are you doing? Where are you?)

Keeping that in mind, I knew when I set my novel in Scotland dialect would be a bit sticky. I've heard a lot of writing advice that suggests you don't do it, for several good reasons. But I ignored that advice and had to figure it out for myself. I lived there, I thought, I can handle this. (This is probably when more experienced writers starting laughing.)

The result?

Well, after wrestling with several rounds, here are two reasons why you won't find my novel covered in dinnas, verras, havenas, and the like:

1. It's a mess to read. My readership (hopefully, one day) will mostly be American. I don't want my reader constantly having to Google my dialogue or, worse, hitting a frustration level where they give up on the book altogether. This doesn't mean that my characters need to sound American. There are phrases and words and inflections that can show dialect yet be readable enough to keep the story rolling.

2. It's hard not to make everyone sound like a caricature. Having lived there, I'm sensitive to the fact that regional differences are big, and nailing nuances within the dialects is quite difficult. Every Scottish person does not sound like he or she popped out of the cast of Braveheart. 

What I'm doing now is dropping a few references in the text that hints at the way something sounds, as well as paying attention to speech patterns. I've learned I don't have to phonetically spell every bit of dialect to give the audience a strong sense that a character is a different nationality. Inflection and syntax go a long way.

Anyone else out there work with dialect? How to do you handle it in your characters?

Herding Characters To and Fro

Straight out of college I worked as a staff editor for a small publishing company. We put out a bimonthly women's magazine, which usually had a short fiction feature. One thing I remember being a major pain in editing those stories was how an author (who was often just dipping her toe into fiction writing) felt the need to explain everything her character was doing.


For example:
Mary got up from the breakfast table, opened the front door, and walked down her sidewalk, admiring the new pansies. She reached her mailbox and opened it but found nothing but bills. She walked back up the sidewalk to her house....


Unless Mary met the love of her life on that sidewalk or encountered a dead body, it's not necessary to put all that information in there. Yes, there is a certain amount of setting that is needed to ground a character, but sometimes less is more. Often a few brushstrokes are all that is needed to convey an action. 


Example: Mary checked her mail. Bills, again.


I'm especially sensitive to this at the moment because I'm eyeball deep in editing my novel. To my horror, I'm guilty as well. For example, consider this passage where I'm trying to describe my main character entering an old library:


A plain wooden door with no handle was open. Ana walked through it into a small vestibule that had another glass door that she pushed through.


Frankly, that's pretty clunky and doesn't make a lot of sense. Trying again:


Ana pushed open the wooden door and found herself in a small vestibule.


Not terrific but certainly easier to read. The reason the first take was so convoluted was because I had an actual library in my head and envisioned how Ana would walk into it. But I need to be careful that I'm not insulting my reader. They know that to get into a room you have to walk into it. I don't have to spell that out for them every single time. 


I'm curious if other writers run into this also? What are your fixes?

Stuck in a Story? Take a Walk

Nashville is a not a city that is friendly to walkers. In my opinion, if I have to drive somewhere to walk, it somewhat negates the entire point.

But when the characters in my novel go a bit stale, or I'm desperate to be reminded of humanity, I have to walk. Why? Because out there is where all the interesting bits of life happen. I like to imagine a person's backstory based on the little clues that give away points about their personalities. Take the following characters:

• The neighbor who walked her cat on a leash and always wore a sundress. This was when I lived on the northeast coast of Scotland, mind you. There I was, bundled in my Land's End Squall Parka, and there she was, in a straw hat and strappy dress. How did she do it? Why the leash? How did she get the cat to cooperate? (I'd actually really like to know the answer to the last question.)
  
• The man who constantly hung laundry. Every day, without fail, he put out his washing and then took it back down again in the afternoon. He was single. How did he generate that much laundry. Did he take in washing for other people? Was he running a business?
  
• The woman who walked with a shower radio. You know the kind with the great big hook? She walked with it held up to her ear. Did she get tired of holding it up? Is that all she can afford?
  
• The man on the tricycle with the pennant flag. I think every city I've ever lived in has one of these fellas. How long has he had the tricycle? What is in his bicycle basket?
  
• The woman who sits in shrubbery. There's a woman near my workplace who wanders the sidewalks every day. Sometimes as I drive by she will startle me by sitting in the middle of some business' shrubbery. Right there on the mulch. What is she thinking about? Who is she waiting for?
  
• The man who jogs in a chicken suit. Yep, in a full blown chicken suit. He lives in my parent's hometown in Oklahoma. Maybe living so close to the Panhandle got to him; I don't know. But I want to know why? It can't be comfortable.

These people are tipping points, little glimpses into the "what if" that can start a story or revive one. There's a rich, rich pageant out there that feeds the written page. What do you do when you're stuck in a story?