Post your dialogue--show us your tags!

swvaughn said:

Inspired by the "Said" thread (hee hee)...

I'd like to see how different folks here handle dialogue tags. So, if you're game, pick a short snippet of conversation (fast and furious if you got it!) from a WIP or completed novel and post it here. I'll bet there's a whole range of different dialogue styles on AW.

I'll start:

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Jazz hesitated. When she finally started speaking, she kept her gaze straight ahead. “First off, Trevor has an open contract out on you. Big money. He wants you alive.”

I really don't like talking heads or a narrator who speaks for me. The introduction to this scene would make me put the book down.

I am confused by this sentence:

“First off, Trevor has an open contract out on you. Big money. He wants you alive.”


“Son of a bitch works fast, doesn’t he?” I gripped the armrest hard. “I hate to ask, but you know I have to. Are you planning to cash me in?”

“No.” She gave a short laugh. “The thought crossed my mind. Like I said, though, I hate him more. Don’t worry—I put out word that you were on my shit list a long time ago. No one will come looking for you with me.”

“Great. That’s reassuring.”

“If I wanted to reassure you, I would’ve lied. What’d you do to him, anyway?”

“Stepped on his foot and scuffed his loafers.”

“Come on, Donatti.”

I had to fess up. How embarrassing. “He hired me to lift something, and I... lost it.”

-------------

Hmm. Just noticed I didn't use "said" once in this exchange. Interesting.

Click to expand...

I couldn't follow what was being said, by whom, and the dialogue tags only made this scene more confusing.

My dialogue usually comes with loads of narration. I rarely use dialogue tags because of this. The actions in the paragraph are used as a way of showing who is speaking. Also, in many instances the speech patterns of the characters are different enough to drop dialogue tags.

The problem with posting a bit of dialogue from my work is that even an exchange of 3 or 4 lines of dialogue would probably end up taking far too much space in a thread. I guess I could cut all the actions out and post the dialogue, but then I think it would defeat the point. I'm sure lots of people would have an easier time contributing. It's interesting to see how different people handle dialogue.

I'll play.

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"The police take pride in their work, ma'am," Horace said, and hesitated. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to place you under arrest."

"For what?"

"Conspiring with known criminals."

"He wasn't a known criminal at the time," Liza said. "He's known now, but I'm certainly not conspiring with him anymore."

"Then what are you doing?" Horace asked.

"Talking with an old friend," Liza said. She stopped beneath a tree, and folded her tail neatly around her paws.

"But you're-"

"A cat? Oh yes. I am. That doesn't mean I can't be an old friend, though."

"Your voice..." he said, but then stopped.

"What about my voice?"

"It sounds familiar. But I haven't heard it in... thirty years, at least. Cats don't live for thirty years."

"Of course they don't," Liza said, yawning. "But people do."

(Short scene picked at random from my best completed unpublishable novel. This particular scene takes place at a large rear-area U.S. Army base in Vietnam, 1970, between the protag and a friend, both low-ranking enlisted men. It's pretty typical of the writing style and dialogue technique for the novel overall.)

Toward the end of February, Saint learned from Lt. Rose that Jimmy Rides His Horses had extended his tour another six months.

“Why?” Saint demanded when he ran into Rides leaving company office at the end of the day. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Rides shrugged. “It’s not so bad here. They feed me, give me a place to sleep, I work indoors, don’t have to lift nothing, nobody yells at me. I even get combat pay for typing. Beats the rez.”

“Christ, Jim, they shoot at people here. Even us. Some night a rocket could come in right here, while you’re asleep. Boom, it’s all over.”

Rides paused. “I had a cousin, name of Darrell Youngblood. He was sleeping in his own bed in the trailer he lived in, and this neighbor of mine, name of Leonard Plenty Crows, was driving back to his house late at night and ran off the road up into Darrell’s yard and hit the propane tank on Darrell’s trailer, and it blew up and killed them both.”

Saint had no response for that one.

“Near as I can tell,” Rides went on after a few seconds, “what you guys are doing here is about what you did a hundred years ago to my relatives. Sometimes I think like I ought to be on the other side. But I can’t do nothing about it, so I sit here quiet and type and don’t kill nobody. And you guys pay me for it. Some nights you even go out and guard the perimeter so the bad guys don’t come and shoot me. And I don’t even have to say Thank you. It’s not so bad.”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said.


caw

Dialogue

This is from the middle of a chapter but probably fairly understandable. (I hope. ) Hope it's not too long for the purpose though.

This has 3 people speaking.
--------------------------------------


Tamra sighed heavily, realizing at no point had she planned what to say. She looked from one to the other for the moment at a loss how to put what she had to tell them. “I am no longer in my mother's service.” She paused, staring blankly at the wall as she searched for words. “She released me from my fealty with words that were hard between us. I will serve you here if you'll have me.”

“What words would be hard enough for you to ignore my order to defend the keep?” the Prince demanded.

“She ordered me to leave, milord. I couldn't stay against her command. Such words as passed between us... It is shameful for her and for me. I beg that you not to make me repeat them here.”

Aliskar sat down, his hooded blue eyes raking her up and down. “I could command you to tell me.”

Tamra stared at her feet. “You could, milord, and I'd be forced to obey. But, please, it was between my mother and me—a family argument long coming.” She couldn't help the quiver in her voice. “If you allow, I will defend your city. I give you my oath before the Goddess.”

The Prince leaned forward, steepling his hands, elbow on the table. He gave her a long silent look. “I won’t force you.” He turned toward Cedrian, standing by his side. “I leave it to you, son. She fought at your side before. The choice is yours.”

“I know that Tamra would be a valuable aid to me.” Cedrian gazed into her eyes. “Are you sure you want to serve under my command?”

“I give you my word. I’ll defend the city with my life.”

A very slight smile touched his lips. “Your help is welcome, Tamra. I can use a second-in-command after our losses... Well, no need to go into that. Tell the chamberlain I said to find you a chamber. Rest. We'll talk later about your duties.”

--------------------------------------------
That is pretty typical for my dialogue.

It's kind of difficult without pasting the narrative that comes before, but here goes:


One of the staff psychiatrists came to stand beside the priest. “How long has she been asking for me?”

The amiable, middle-aged doctor laid a comforting hand on Father Nico’s shoulder. “Since she woke up this morning, Father. They found her scratched up and covered in her own blood, asking to see you.”

“I’d like to talk to her now, if I may.” The priest prepared himself for the bizarre conversation that always followed.

“No problem.”


I'm not a fan of said, or any variation of the dialogue tag. I try to avoid them as much as possible because I used to abuse them shamelessly. He said, she laughed, they replied. It probably doesn't bother the reader as much as it bothers the people who have to reread and edit a gozillion times.

Here's some dialog from a scene I've recently revised. Setup: Denise is finding out from her sister Linda that she used to date a guy that recently died.

“Oh my fucking God,” she said softly.

“What?”

“I know him . . . I mean, I knew him,” she corrected herself. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She swiped at one of them. “I remember that voice so well. What was his last name? Sebring? Stewing?”

“Sterling. It was Mark Sterling. How did you know him?”

“An artist, right? Longish hair?”

“That’s him.”

“Yeah.” She lit a fresh cigarette and inhaled deeply. “I met him in a bar. Dave’s Place down on 39th. Last January. How corny is that?” She laughed colorlessly. “It was during a show, local band night. The Flamingos were playing I remember. Cover band from Van Nuys. Ever see them?”

Linda rarely went out to clubs anymore and had no idea who the Flamingos were. “No, I sure haven’t.”

“They aren’t bad. Well, I was dancing, holding my beer. I bumped into him and spilled my drink all over his shirt. He wasn’t mad or anything, but I was all embarrassed. He was really cute.”

“Like that’s the first time anything like that’s ever happened.”

“Hey, give me a break, will you? I’m mourning here.” She took another drag off her cigarette.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers through her stringy, blonde hair. “He excused himself to clean up. When he got back, he bought me a drink. Gentlemanly of him, wasn’t it? Well, we started talking, one thing led to another, and he ended up staying the night at my place.”

Linda smiled. “Like the first time that’s—”

“Shut up already. Anyway, we went out a few times, partied, saw a few more shows around town, even went to Dave Matthews at Hollywood Bowl together. We weren’t dating, nothing like that, just friends . . . sometimes more. I’ll bet I still have his number in my cell. Might still have some of his texts, I never clean them out.” She glanced at her purse and sighed. “I can’t believe he’s gone. And you were the last one to see him. I know it’s been a while since him and I talked, but still . . . .”

Keep in mind that this is a MG sci-fi adventure. It involves robots and two humans. Jake is a human (15yo) and Chanel is the other human (12yo).

“Miss Channel, I am happy to have you aboard our ship!” Captain Gill takes his seat and rests his elbows on the table, tapping his fingers together. “I thought this would be a good time to introduce ourselves.” He gestures to the other robots sitting at the table. Chanel looks around and notices Jake sitting three chairs over from her. He seems amused.

“My name is Gill, but you already know me. Let me introduce you to the other crew members.” He points to the robot on his left. “This is Orb. He is the one in charge of keeping this ship clean and organized.”

Chanel gives the robot a shy smile. He is shorter than Gill, and his abdomen looks very much like a large wrecking ball with a small round door in front. His oval face has two large round eyes with the familiar green light shining behind them. He is staring at Chanel, apparently waiting for her to speak.

“Hi.” She waves her hand tentatively. And waits to see if Orb responds.

“Hello.” His dry reply echoes within his belly. Then he turns is attention back to a computer sitting on the conference table.

“The robot sitting next to Orb is I-Leen. She is very handy with defensive machinery, and maintains the ship’s coordinates, and radar functions.” Gill’s voice is full of pride. “Without her abilities, the Calebrix could sneak up on us at any time.”

The female robot stands from her seat and reaches for Chanel’s hand. Chanel shakes it and realizes the lower half of her body isn’t in correct proportion. In fact one leg seems a few inches shorter than the other. Chanel smiles and looks up into her friendly face.

“Nice to meet you Miss Channel.” She shakes her hand and then fumbles back into her seat.

“It’s pronounced Chanel.” Chanel tries to use her most polite voice. She doesn’t want to embarrass any of the robots.

“Actually, you ought to call her Squirt.” Jake props his feet up on the table and leans back in his chair. He flashes a big grin at Chanel’s red face.

“Oh, Ok.” I-Leen nods her understanding. She looks back up at Chanel. “It is nice to meet you; Squirt.”

At this point, Chanel is too embarrassed to correct her, and clenches her jaw as she smiles back. “Thank you. It is nice to meet you too.” She turns and glares back at Jake while the other robots aren’t looking. He just smirks and looks back up at Gill to hear the next introduction.

“Well, maybe it’s best if I meet him alone. I used to be able to do things on my own all the time.”

Jesse didn’t expect the cool glide of fingers across his, but he curled his hand into Gideon’s just the same.

“You have so much strength in you.” Gideon was lost in shadows, the streetlights flirting with the planes of his face. “I’ve always known that.”

A compliment from Gideon would always make him warm with pleasure. And on some level, Jesse knew what Gideon said must be true. How could he help Gideon if he didn’t have strength inside of him? How could he face the sort of horrors they see every week if he wasn’t strong? How could he be a good partner for either Gideon or Emma if he were weak?

“Always?” He asked lightly. “Even when you were saving me from vampires and chastising me for wandering around Chicago after dark?”

“I said strong. I didn’t say smart.”

Jesse snorted. “I figured you just kept me around for my good looks. I’m dumb but pretty.”

“Don’t forget the begging. That’s a turn-on.”

“Yeah, but you’re so easy, I never have to beg for long.”

Gideon’s brows shot up. “You did not just dare me.”

Jesse looked at him with all the innocence he could muster. “I might have. I’m dumb, remember?”

They came to a halt. Before Jesse could blink, Gideon’s hand was strong at his nape, pulling him hard against his chest as their mouths clashed. The kiss was brief but brutal, leaving him tense and aching by the time they separated.

“Focus on the strong for now and we’ll leave the begging for later.” He jerked his head toward the building behind them. “We’re here.”

They'e in a car, and lost. Ellie is driving. It's written from Clive's POV.

She slowed. “Did you see a sign?”

“No. Seems like I’ve been here before though. I might know this street.” He stared out at the glum apartment buildings and tatty business awnings. Payday Loans Today. Huggy’s Bail Bonds.

They came to the next corner.

“Pole. The sign was stolen. Turn here, I’m thinking.”

A lanky redhead stepped out of a doorway and moved in the opposite direction.

“El, that was Lucretia! I just fucking saw Lucretia.”

“Nah, you didn’t.”

“That was her, damn it.” He twisted around in his seat. “The hair. I’d know it anywhere.”

“That whore was way too old to be Creep-Show.”

“Don’t call her that. And it wasn’t a whore. It was her. Go back!”

“I’m not turning around for you to rescue some whore.”

“Pull over. I know it was her.”

“All the more reason to keep driving. And in case you didn’t notice, we’re in the ass crack of Detroit.”

A car stopped in front of them and Clive opened his door. Never any point awaiting Ellie’s approval when she scowled like that.

“Don’t do it, Cliver. No good can come of it. What are you going to do? Give her money? She’ll just spend it on drugs.”

He got out. “Keep it locked. If anything even looks suspicious, get out of this place.”

“No. Get your dumb ass back in the car.”

Click to expand...

I found a short piece, so I'll play too.
---

Nikoli continued to glare at him. “Your understanding is not mandatory, only your obedience.”

“Obedience?” Heat rose in Michael's cheeks. “What kind of sick bastard are you to think I owe you anything? I thought you were dead! I was alone for God knows how long, and judging by the wings, the telepathy, and the calm, collected reaction to what just happened, I’d be willing to bet you could’ve saved me from the loneliness before it drove me half mad.”

“Solitude builds character.” Nikoli paused and gave Michael a once over with his eyes. “At least it should.”

Tears slid over Michael's cheeks. He didn’t want to cry. He wanted to rip his father apart from the inside, like the man had so expertly done to him.

“I would strongly advise against that course of action, Michael. My original threat still stands.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “What, you can read my thoughts too?” He sniffed loudly. “I hope you’re getting a good dose of just how much I hate you right now.”

Nikoli raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Your hatred is trivial. It’s your idiocy that infects my mood.”

i wasn't confused, but i would prefer an example not in first-person. warning, the following contains adult material, course language and rocks. (this ain't a WIP or anything, just an example as i'm winging it. )



Jim threw his jacket on the bed and yanked his tie loose. "Well, that was quite a fucking show you put on tonight, Linda. I didn't know you were such an actress."

"Who was acting?" Linda said without remorse in her tone while putting her rings in the jewelry box on her vanity. She gave herself a quick look in the mirror, neither disapproving of herself nor justifying the night's activities.

"Oh, so now you weren't acting, huh? Great. That's just fucking great, Linda. Well, at least one of us came through our experiment feeling just peachy."

*Came* she thought to herself. *What a good choice of words.* She dared a slight smile at her reflection, pulling the earrings off. Her eyes drifted towards her cleavage and, impressed with herself, couldn't stop her nipples from hardening had she tried. "It was your stupid idea, Jim."

Jim 'heh heh'ed increduously and turned to his wife. "You didn't seem to feel it was stupid at the time."

She spun around. "Maybe that's because I was having an orgasm at the time."

"So I noticed." Jim started to rub his neck as he milled about. "Yep, you sure seemed to be having a good time all right."

Linda sat at her vanity to wipe make-up off. "And I suppose you didn't have a good time with Cheryl?"

Jim thought he would have had a great time with his friend's wife, then found her not to be Linda. Now, it seemed, Linda wasn't so much like the Linda he thought he knew. "Slut," he muttered under his breath, "should have known better than to try something new."

"What's that, dear? What did you say just now? Did you just call me a name?"

"No," he lied. "So.... What was it that did it for you?"

Exasperated, Linda dropped her arms to the table and looked at Jim in the mirror. "What?"

"I said, what did it for you?"

"Are you kidding--"

"What the fuck was it?!"

"He's got a big dick, is that what you want to hear?! He fucked me with his big dick and fucked me good. Not like that little prick you use to poke me with. Does that make you feel better, asshole?"

"You goddamn...," Jim growled, stepping towards her, fist clenched.

"Stop right there," Linda warned, "before you make a bigger jackass out of yourself. I suggest you go take a shower and find a blanket. You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

"I am, am I? Maybe you should sleep on the couch. Better yet, maybe you should go sleep with him. You're probably already thinking about ways to fuck him some more, aren't you?"

"Yes, Jim, that's exactly what I'm doing, planning on sneaking around and being with a man I didn't want to be with in the first place." She wiped her cheek hard with a cleansing pad. "From now on all I plan on doing is fucking and sucking him every chance I get, because that's all women want is some sleezeball swinger with a nice package."

Jim's face burned. He wanted to hit her, wanted to beat her so hard she'd forget the night.

"Go get a shower, Jim. We'll talk in the morning."



egh. needs work, but i think i pretty much got most of the ways i do dialogue in there.

Erm, preyer - I'd call that language (and content) coarse, rather than course. Very coarse. Not surprisingly so, of course. Just a warning to other readers.

c.e.

I want to play.

I got out and stood by the car. I only had to wait a few moments before Kali came bouncing up.

"Hey dad, how come you're here?"

"I felt guilty about last night, c'mon. Let's go do something."

"Um, homework?" Kali said in that annoying "Dad, you're such a dope" voice. I told you she liked school. I never would have put homework first. Or even second.

"Yeah, yeah, do that then we'll go do something, just you and me."

"OK!" she said as she climbed into the back seat. All right, maybe I am a little overprotective. She was old enough to sit in front, but I still felt more comfortable with her in the back and no airbag. Better to be safe, as they say.

I got in, adjusted my seat, checked all the mirrors, and glanced behind me.

"All set?"

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out.

"Yes, daddy, I'm all set."

Some rituals I never give up and car safety is one of them. I started the car and pulled out into the stream of minivans and SUVs leaving the parking lot.

"What did you learn in school today?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Nuthin'" she said as I mouthed the response at the same time. Same question, same response for six years of school.

"What was that?" she asked.

"What was what?"

"I saw your head moving. You were copying me, weren't you?"

"I most certainly was not copying you."

"Were too."

"Was not."

"Too!"

"Not!" I said. We have some very mature conversations and I'll spare you the fact that "Too" and "Not" were repeated about a dozen more times before we finally stopped.

"Too!" I said.

"Daddy, you're not Bugs Bunny. Changing your answer hasn't worked since I was four."

I shrugged. "It was worth a try."

Here's a brief convo:
The phone rang, just as she was getting ready to dial her landlady’s number for the fourth time since six o’clock.
“Emma? This is Valerie, your landlord,” the small voice coming from her end of the phone sounded far away, full of echoes.
“Yes, yes, this is Emma. Look Valerie, I am sorry I called you so early, but we have a problem.”
There was a slight crackling sound followed by a horn blast, “I can barely hear you, Emma. I’ll have to call you back, I’m on the interstate.”
Emma heard an electric hum followed by a hollow silence, “Son of a b…” She caught herself before she let the explicit leave her frowning mouth.

And another:

“Just a second Valerie, let me grab a robe!”
Emma snagged her robe off the back of the Louis IV Fauteuil Chair in the foyer. Tying the belt loosely over her gossamer gown, she unbolted the door.
“Good morning Valerie. I am sorry I called so early, but...Oh, sorry you’re not Valerie,” taking a hesitant step backward, Emma started to close the door.
“Not a problem. I’m Luke, the apartment manager. Valerie called me, saying you had a problem?”
The guy standing in her doorway didn’t look like any apartment manager she had ever seen. He wasn’t dirty, overweight, and his jeans didn’t sag around his hips. Luke didn’t sport a white shirt with stains on it either. He was tall, broad shouldered, with neatly trimmed black hair and cyan blue eyes. He had on a clean pair of khakis and a red and white polo, sporty in a business casual way. Stifling a giggle at the mental image of the last plumber she had met, who had shown her a large portion of his derrière, she didn’t think he looked like that at all. Then again he wasn’t exactly a plumber.
Emma extended her hand, her manners getting the best of her, “I’m Emma and pleased to meet you.”
Luke smiled a slow lazy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He had noticeable laugh lines creasing playfully around his mouth and one very charming dimple.
“Nice to meet you as well, Miss Emma,” he took her smooth palm in his warm, callused one and shook it gently.

Here's a bit from my WIP. SULGON (the dark prince) has stolen DUNCAN'S place in his family. He is having breakefast with Duncan's two older brothers, MACK (13) and PADDY (14) and their MOM, SARAH LEIGH, all three of whom believe him to be Duncan. In this scene he attempts to use reverse psychology to get the two older boys to deal with a problematic girl, CHLOE.

---------------

“So who did you smack, Duncky? Mom wouldn’t tell us.” It was Mack, gobbling up another toasted butter-bun. His fifth.

“Boys, leave your brother alone. What he did was wrong, but he’s allowed his privacy . . . as long as he promises not to do it again.”

“No, Mother, it is all right. Mack and Paddy have not yet met my girlfriend, I believe, and I think it important they know how very much I like her, and how sorry I am that I slapped her. She is my girlfriend, you know,” he added, looking brightly into their awestruck faces.

The boys turned to each other, their mouths full, frozen in mid-bite. Slowly, they both began to laugh, snorting, each trying not to spew the contents of his cheeks while desperately trying to cause the other to do so.

Paddy--who seemed to have the largest maw in the family--finished first and blurted, “Duncan has a girlfriend, Duncan has a girlfriend.” Then, noticing his brother wasn’t fazed, stopped and asked, “So, what’s her name, dingus?”

“No, not Dingus, it is Chloë.”

“Chloë what?” asked Mack.

“Chloë Strø . . .Strum. . . Straw-ber-ling.” He had been about to say Strømling but thought better of it, not sure whether the brothers or mother would have heard the name before.

“Chloë Strawberry! What, is she a cartoon character?” Mack said, laughing at his own joke.

“Maybe Strawberry’s her middle name," Paddy added, "and Milkshake is her last name! Is that it, Chloë Strawberry Milkshake?”

Both boys were in hysterics now. Just what Sulgon had hoped for.

“Duncan, I thought she said her name was Dunne?” Sarah asked.

“Ah, yes, Mother. You are right...” Sulgon's mind raced to find a plausible explanation. “Strawberry is my love-name for her.”

Now even Mrs. Leigh’s mouth hung open in surprise. She couldn’t help but exchange a glance with Mack and Paddy, who were very close to exploding.

Sulgon hurried on, sensing he was achieving his goal. “Remember, brothers. She is very dear to me, it would give me the gravest displeasure were you to harm or frighten her. She is very afraid of the water, and of the dark, and of . . . being crushed by snakes.”

d'oh! you're right, i used the wrong word there, lol. but, yeah, i threw that together as i sat down and wrote it in the little 'quick reply' box. it seemed like an interesting opener at the moment (not to mention the only thing that popped into my head). what was funny about that is 'jim' and 'linda' were two names i pulled out of nowhere and i noticed each of those were used in other peoples' samples, which were great, btw.

i think we all generally like to mix things up and pretty much need to consider how many different variations on the 'dialogue tag' there are. what i'd really like to see here is a conversation between at least three people ~ that's when you have to pause and think about it a bit more sometimes, because then you have to really take dialogue tags into consideration.

preyer said:

i think we all generally like to mix things up and pretty much need to consider how many different variations on the 'dialogue tag' there are. what i'd really like to see here is a conversation between at least three people ~ that's when you have to pause and think about it a bit more sometimes, because then you have to really take dialogue tags into consideration.

Click to expand...

I am working on a small after awards party right now with 11 people. At any one time there will be 2 groups of 4 and a group of 3 people, talking all on different subjects.....aaaahhhhh!!

BRAVO!! To you ALL.

These are great!!

Plucked randomly from my first draft. They're sitting on a couch in someone's house.

“Kate,” she asked, sitting on my lap, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I smiled. Nothing now that I’m buzzed.

“Sure. That totally explains why your eyes have been bright yellow all day and you’re drinking enough for three people.”

I pushed her off. “Not my fault.”

“Come on, tell me. I love gossip.”

“Yeah, I know you do, that’s why I’m not telling you.”

“It’s that O’Connor guy, isn’t it? He has a really cute accent. You should call him.”

I’d sooner cut off a boob. “No.”

“Well who is it then? It’s gotta be a guy. No one drinks that much unless they have guy trouble.”

“Pick one,” I mumbled.

She gasped. “Ooh, there’s more than one? Now you have to tell me.”

“Lana I can’t tell you, seriously. The alphas will kill you.”

“Is that a gang? The Alphas? I didn’t know this town had a gang. Can I meet one of them?”

I tried to wave her away like a pesky fly. “What are you talking about? No, Lana, you can’t meet one. And it isn’t a gang.”

Click to expand...

preyer said:

i think we all generally like to mix things up and pretty much need to consider how many different variations on the 'dialogue tag' there are. what i'd really like to see here is a conversation between at least three people ~ that's when you have to pause and think about it a bit more sometimes, because then you have to really take dialogue tags into consideration.

Click to expand...

Oh, hmm... more than three peeps. I have a few of those scenes here somewhere.

<runs off to dig through her WIP>

Billy crept along the shadows of the neighbor’s house, keeping an eye on the man.

A woman’s voice came through the open window. “You’re crushing my impatiens.”

He smiled. “Sorry, ma’am. My cat got loose and I saw him dart into your yard.” He could barely make out the woman’s features through the black screen.

“Can you see him?” she asked.

Worry in her voice. Good. “I think he might have gone into your crawl space. Could I trouble you for a spot of cream?”

“Certainly. Come around to the back door.” She met him there with a delicate saucer filled with milk.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am. I’m sure he’ll come out in no time.” He set the saucer under the edge of the house.

“Please. Call me Edith.”
A door over at the girl’s house slammed shut, and the maroon sedan rumbled to life. It backed out of the drive and took off up and over the hill.

He looked into the pale green eyes of his new lady friend. “Billy Shively, ma’am. Mind if I call the missus? She’s awfully fond of Boots.”

The woman held open the door, and he entered into the tiny but clutter-free kitchen. “The phone is in the living room,” she said. “Help yourself. I’ll put the water on for tea.”

Southern hospitality at its best. A letter under the phone was addressed to Edith Plumley, 2314 Piedmont. He picked up the receiver and pretended to dial. His eyes scanned the room. The window shades were all drawn. Perfect. A movie played on the flickering television in the corner. Too bad Edith wouldn’t live to see how it ended.

It's a little long, but it's three people. Hopefully it's not too horribly confusing.
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Morghan broke away from Luke and mounted the steps. “Get out of my seat, ya bum!” She prodded Azrael in the shoulder and laughed. “I’m gone a mere century and you think you own the place again.”

Azrael didn’t look at her. He shoved his cards into a haphazard stack, and stepped down from the throne.

“Not in your friendliest mood today, I see.” She plopped down in the empty seat.

“Sometimes I'm not given a choice.” Azrael hoisted himself onto the armrest and glared at Luke. “Isn’t that right?”

Luke didn’t look happy as he sat beside her.

“Oh here we go again. Aren’t we just one big, happy family?” Morghan rolled her eyes. Would the two of them never get over their male pmsing? She wasn’t quite sure which she hated more, boring herself to death in Heaven, or dealing with the childish bitchfests in Hell. Maybe she could lighten the mood. “Just because I’m impossible to please doesn’t mean you boys should stop trying.”

“I thought I’d been doing a pretty good job of pleasing you.” Luke mumbled something more under his breath and scuffed a boot on the platform.

“You have.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You’ve spoiled me for mortal love.”

“You were already spoiled for it.” He frowned, looking into her eyes, “Or do you suddenly remember a rewarding experience on Earth?”

She shrugged him off with a wry smile. “That only adds credibility to the fact that I am impossible to please.”

“But I-”

Azrael cut him short. “You don’t count. You’re superhuman. That's essentially the same as cheating.”

Morghan was shocked that for once, Azrael was the one provoking hostility. So much for humor.

Luke stood, baring his teeth. “You’re overstepping your boundaries, Azrael! You forget yourself.”

Azrael held his stony gaze against Luke’s flaming one.

“Hold on a minute!” Morghan yanked Luke back into his seat. “What the Hell is wrong with you two?"

“Lately he has been treating me as his slave, and he’s having a problem with the fact that I’m not acting the part.” Was that a sly grin on Azrael’s face? Uh oh. “Or is it something more?”

Luke began to rise again, but Morghan held him firmly in place. This needed straightening out, otherwise she really was going back to Heaven, boredom be damned. “Slave? What is this slave business?”

“He is not my slave! Though if you want to get technical, he should serve under me.”

“And where is my place?” Morghan narrowed her eyes. “Since he sat in this seat long before I did. Is my place under you as well?”

“That’s different. You’re different.”