Speaker 1: I don't write books. Sorry, sorry, I've never written a story that was not a screenplay. So when I say dialogue, I'm exclusively referring to the words that come out of characters' mouths. I'm not going into said versus exclaimed or paragraph breaks, because none of that stuff exists in my trade. But for the prose folk, there's still huge overlap, so I'd encourage you to stick around. Dialogue is dead last in the order of operations. After your central idea, after your characters, after your conflict, after your scenes, wait, scenes, let's talk about those for a second. Before you can attempt a first draft, as per the local script method, you're going to have to take your big character flowchart and divide it into scenes. Not key moments connected by vibes, actual scenes. Contained blocks of time set at specific locations. Remember, we're talking screenplays here. If information is not communicated within the confines of a scene, it is not communicated at all. And this is something I didn't fully realize until I tried to adapt a novel into a screenplay. The manuscript I was adapting, written by a friend of mine, had pages and pages of thoughts, feelings, and information. All of it communicated with an exceptional degree of elegance. But only one paragraph in 20 would communicate something that was actually happening on the timeline. And so to communicate the information in those other 19 paragraphs, I would need to invent new scenes, which became irritating for my adaptee, which is why the product never got past a half-baked pilot draft. Which is all to say that dialogue is one of the writer's tools for communicating information in-universe. Factual information, emotional information, cultural information, etc. And that sounds like a no-brainer, but it is. It is a brainer. Because if you're anything like me, you know a lot of stuff about your characters and your world that needs to be communicated to the audience. But that information might not be tied down to any particular scene. I want to clarify my stance on exposition, because many consider it to be inherently cringe, but I do not. If the character or device disclosing that exposition would do it, then it's not a problem. This is another one of those dumb rules writing gurus preach, and I just wanted to make a point of ignoring it. That said, you're probably not going to find yourself in a perfect situation to disclose everything your audience needs to know. More than likely, you'll be forced to do it within the confines of a dialogue scene. And by confines, I mean the nature of your characters. You have this giant pile of information, but your character acts as a filter. So the information is, Bob feels extremely sad. But the filter is, Bob is really committed to being an optimist. So Bob can't just come out there and openly be sad. To communicate to the audience that he's sad, we have to sneak through the filter. Bob would only say optimistic things because he's Bob, but we can have Bob phrase them in a vaguely cynical way. We can have him do subconscious things that give away his true emotions. That's basically the mental model I use to approach dialogue. Information through a human filter. The filter is, in a sentence, how would this character in this situation communicate this information? So before you tackle a big dialogue scene, there are a couple things you'll need to do. Firstly, you'll need to list off all of the information the scene needs to communicate. To demonstrate this, I'm going to create a hypothetical sci-fi drama scene featuring the characters Philip and Kima, whom we're meeting for the first time. Here's how the scene is described on the sticky note. It's the year 2097. Philip comes to Kima's flat to pick up his stuff. Their six-month relationship is ending because Philip, a space academy student, has just been selected for a one-way trip to the planet Icarus. Philip is enthusiastic about the mission and doesn't care about their relationship. Kima is heartbroken. That's the information. And for the sake of this exercise, I'm going to force myself to squeeze all of that information into the dialogue, including specific names and dates. Okay, okay, okay, and done. Hello, Kima. I am here to pick up my belongings from your flat. Also, it is the year of our lord, 2097.

Speaker 2: Philip, we have been together for six months. I love you so much. I don't want you to go to space.

Speaker 1: I don't love you. I love my career. I am very excited about my career at the space academy, where I will travel to the planet Icarus. I am so sad about this information. I am never coming back to Earth. Goodbye. I did communicate all the information I wanted to, but that scene felt robotic because I forgot my filters. Who are these characters? You need to definitively list off your character's priorities at this point in the story. That is your filter. What your filter isn't is a description of the character's personality. Avoid one-word descriptors like arrogant or funny. If you have to get some information across, and your solution is, I'll have the funny character say it in a funny way, you're not grounding the line in anything meaningful. Instead, ask, what does this character want in this scene, and how would their wording reflect that? Let's just say Philip is the kind of person who doesn't confront negative emotions. He just wants to ride the high, and if you get all dramatic, he's going to snap at you. Basically, an avoidant and deeply unhealthy Enneagram 7. And Kima knows all of this. Throughout the relationship, she's been putting her negative emotions aside because she knows that expressing how she really feels would scare him off. But now, it's their last time seeing each other, and she's been keeping so much in for so long, and she's confused because now he's leaving anyway, and by the end of the scene, she's going to explode on him. In addition to all of this, Philip and Kima are both sane human beings who wouldn't just, you know, state what the current year is. But for the sake of the exercise, we're going to find a way to sneak that through the filter along with everything else I highlighted. This will be no easy task. There is, of course, an artistic, musical component to dialogue, and I'll talk about that later, but right now I'm thinking tactically. I need to get my information through the filter, starting with... He walks in. So what's their first interaction? How can I set the tone for this whole scene? That's it. That's basically a perfect introduction to their dynamic. Now, why is Philip here? No, no, she knows that. He wouldn't just say it like that. What if we use this opportunity to learn more about Kima? Got it all together in the living room. Boom, multitasking. With this line, we give a justification for why Philip is here, and we show what sort of person Kima is. She's making kind gestures towards him, even now. She's making his life easier, because that's how she expresses love. And how does Philip respond to that? Well, I'm not going to have him brush it off entirely, like he's still appreciative, but he's not appreciative the way she wants him to be. No eye contact, walks past her. Damn, thanks Kim. Yeah. You know what's crazy? The first Icarus mission left in 2084, right? And when they arrive in two years, it'll have been like a 14-year thing, but we're doing the whole trip in eight years. That's how fast the technology's moving. And the third mission could even beat us there. Is he just rattling off exposition? Yes, but this is purposeful. He's talking about this because it's what's on his mind right now. What's on her mind? Closure. But she won't demand it outright. The filter is still there. How does she guide the conversation in that direction? How's your mom? I think this is good, because it establishes that Kima knows Philip's family and deepens their history, and it's also a subtle way for her to inject sentimentality into the conversation. She's supportive. Very blunt. He can see what she's trying to do. This is also him putting up a boundary. Subtextually, he's saying, the correct way for you to respond to this is to support me. I remember when we all went out

Speaker 2: to dinner, the day you got into the academy, she was... So basically, there's the first quarantine

Speaker 1: period. He's really not trying to have a serious conversation. We can use him packing up his stuff as a device to keep him in the room, but we have him loading it into his vehicle, so we use the bags like a timer, and we keep cutting back to the bags, like four left, three left, two left, oh boy, she better get this off her chest. And he's just rambling, all excited, and we're on her face the whole time. I'm really proud of you, Philip. Thanks. He grabs the last bag. I, I want, I wanted, how are you feeling? Again, she can't just initiate the conversation she wants to have, so she's giving him an opening and hoping he takes it. She almost wants him to not be okay, but he is. I'm great, how are you? I'm good.

Speaker 2: All right, well, goodbye. Wait, I, I just, I'm, I'm sorry. Could we please just talk about you and me? I don't really know what there is to talk about.

Speaker 1: You know, we, we had our fun. I'll always consider you a friend, but I'm never coming back. I don't want you to mope about this. Mope? Yeah, mope. That's what you're doing, Kima.

Speaker 2: You're making this about you. I'm, I'm sorry, I know. I just wish we could. You knew this was

Speaker 1: the end game. Like, six months ago, we moved in together. You knew I was going to end up on that ship. I'm not trying to stop you. Yes, you are. You're gonna cry, and you're gonna beg me to stay

Speaker 2: here with you. I'm not. You are. I just wanted you to say goodbye. I did. No, not like. You want me

Speaker 1: to hug you, and kiss you, and mope with you. How is that gonna make this easy? I don't want it to

Speaker 2: be easy. I just want it to be real. Please tell me if it was real. This video is sponsored by

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Fitting information naturally in your scene was the first thing I talked about, and I do think my model works for that, but it's not terribly specific, so I want to focus on some do's and don'ts. There is a phenomenon I like to call the alley-oop line. You know it when you see it. It's a line that exists only to facilitate the next line. Usually what this looks like is a random question at an unnatural time. Nothing takes me out of a dialogue scene like this, and I've done it myself more times than I can count. I have the meaningful line, and I need to get my conversation there, so I have another character set it up. There's just something off about that setup line. It's impure. Why does the protagonist pick this moment to ask who the commanding officer of the mission is? And regardless, that's such a weird way to ask it. Do these missions belong to people? Has that ever been the language used to describe them? Look, these lines never derail a scene. Even at their worst, they're usually forgotten right after the cool line happens, but I bring them up because I believe them to be symptoms of a larger problem. I know I talk structure on this channel, but a part of that structure is the illusion of a natural progression, and that applies to dialogue just as much as it applies to the cause and effect progression of the plot. Alley-oop lines are the writer fudging cause and effect to meet a desired end. Not to an egregiously high degree, but just enough to turn a character into a device for a split second. So what are some solutions to this? I think the first question to ask yourself is whether or not you even need a setup line. The tweak I would make to the tenant scene would go like this. Because Neil was already in a bean-spilling mood. But let's say that's not an option. Let's say I need a character to disclose their opinion on the nature of power in a scene. That's a tall order. Somehow Silco, this guy, needs to verbally state his ideology. If I were a lesser writer, I might have Savika walk in and ask, hey boss, what do you think about power? But I'm an arcane writer, so I'm going to reach into the plot and create a situation where it would make sense for Silco to disclose his ideology. One where doing so would benefit him. An underling is communicating a boundary, and Silco needs to get past that boundary. So Silco attributes his own power to his lack of boundaries. It comes to those who will do anything to achieve it. AKA his ideology. This thug kid didn't have to be apprehensive about taking that scissor. He could have just been like, hell yeah. But by making one little change to one little side character, we open the door to conflict. And conflict is the state in which characters reveal things about themselves. I like to think of all dialogue as conflict, especially dialogue between thematic characters. It should go without saying that if you can't think of anything meaningful for your characters to disagree on, you might have to return to your outline and perspective map. But turning a disagreement into a conflict requires plot. Character A hates Hawaiian pizza and character B loves it. They disagree. But it's not a conflict until the time comes to order pizza. Which is all to say that if you have a bunch of characters who are ripe with disagreements but still not butting heads, it's probably because you haven't used the plot to trigger conflict. You haven't put those characters in a situation where the claws are going to come out. They're just standing around. But I think I have a halfway decent fix for this, or at least a mental process you can maybe use to remedy it. If you're struggling with a dialogue scene, ask what else is happening in the scene besides dialogue. And if the answer is nothing, make something happen. Hell, make more than one thing happen. An unprompted Pulp Fiction-style banter about Hawaiian pizza is level 1. An argument about what to order is level 2. An argument about what to order while on the phone with the pizza guy is level 3. An argument about what to order while on the phone with the pizza guy while simultaneously trying to fix a busted water pipe. Okay, you get the idea. If a dialogue scene feels like it's happening in a void and you don't want that to be the case, make it collide with the plot a little bit. Make it a situation- specific dialogue scene. The dialogue can interact with the location and the props. After all, it's just one tool the writer has. Break out the whole tool belt. Use subtext to your advantage. Maybe that Hawaiian pizza argument is code for something else. A real emotional dispute between these two characters lurking just under the surface. So they're getting extremely emotional about this pizza, but it's not actually the pizza they're talking about. You know what I mean? You can see this in practice with The Wire. It's local. When D'Angelo, Bodie, and Michael, Michael, Jordan talk about chess, they use the game of chess as an allegory for the drug operation. And everyone's like, oh shit, the subtext. But that's not the subtext. That's just an allegory the characters are making in-universe. The real subtext of the scene is how the characters respond to the allegory. You can boil ideas down to physical representations. You know, props. And when the characters express attitudes towards those props, they're actually expressing attitudes towards the ideas imbued in those props. The most common example of this is when a character will have a deceased loved one whom they remember by carrying around an object. It's an incredibly human way to process feelings, and it's also a tactic that can be used to give dialogue more layers. The cool thing about subtext is that it forces the audience to actively decode the text, which keeps them engaged. You know, if you care about that sort of thing. And when you find crafty, colorful ways to communicate your information in every scene, it's gonna hit so different when you finally do serve up a two-characters-alone-in-the-void scene. Because the absence of other variables will itself become a variable that tells the audience, hey, you can't look away this time. This moment is big and absolute. Ever done improv? Yes. And I enjoyed it. So yes and is one of the core tenets of improv. Basically it means you should never just respond. You should respond and then give your scene partner a little extra. That way the conversation can mutate. New information keeps getting added by design. The scene stays alive and never gets stale. Does that mean you should drop a huge game-changing revelation at the end of every line? Absolutely not. All I'm saying is that maybe the answer to your writer's block is letting a bit of additional information slip out. Here's one more visualizer. This is what we'll call a type A conversation. Every line is a line. Every color is an idea. But this is a type B conversation. The colors are offset. Here's the yes. Here's the and. And the and sets the stage for the next line, making the conversation harder to disengage from. First model walks, second model duplicates, then elaborates. I mean, basically, yeah. I'm not trying to stop you. Yes, you are. You're gonna cry and you're gonna beg me to stay here with you. This specific rhythm of dialogue is by no means something I'm prescribing for your specific situation, but it's just one more thing that could help you. And if you maintain this rhythm for a scene and then abruptly change it, that could be really cool too. I don't know. I'm spitballing. I planned for this to be a longer video, but I couldn't think of anything to do besides analytically ogle at my favorite dialogue scenes, which wasn't really my intent going in. I get a lot of positive feedback on my writing strategies, and I'm very happy to have helped people along on their journeys. But for every 99 of those comments, I get one that goes, hey, could you stop trying to be a writing coach and just go back to having takes, please? Sometimes these comments are very polite, and other times I'm accused of thinking I know better than professional writers. But for new viewers, here's a synopsis of my whole thing. I'm not just here to argue about whether a piece of media is good or bad. I want to rise above that discourse and harness analysis to create new writing frameworks that help me get better at my craft, or as I've called it in the past, critique as a means to an end. Even my- The Q&A ended up being over three hours. If you sent in the question, thank you. If your name is Skillshare, thank you for sponsoring this video. And as always, thank you to my patrons, Aaron Rockensack, Alex Moore, Alexandria Chloe, Elise Ottmane, Arcane Wit, everybody go check out his meme page, it's really good, Bradley Crone, Casey Brown, Daniel Langley, Debra, Dewald Oliver, Elijah, Kay Ashburn, Eric, Jay Moffat, Evan Wiles, Gubbins, Hamoon Bertram, Jake Eckenrode, Janelle Jones, Jarrett Tyree, Joanna Van Brunt, Joseph, Daniel Rodriguez, Jude Abuhamda, Karasu, King Tut, Lion, Lucas, Matthew Torres, Micah Zagrebelny, Mikhail N, Nachos, Poopshoe Rogers, Proloficity, Raphael D'Amico, Region Frosh, Ryoshi, S, Sam Jabb, Source Cotton, Teddy Squid, Tom Astine, Trevor Carson, Viroslav, and Von Luger. You guys are hot shit. Everyone, my Patreon is great, you should check it out or something, I don't know. But yeah, take it easy, believe in yourselves, I'll see you next time.