Dialog in Streets and Pages

I was at a training in the city all last week. While walking to meet family for dinners and to get to classes, I encountered a lot of people.

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Without fail, the homeless people talked to me. Not asking for money or anything like that. We’d be standing on a corner waiting for the light to change, and we’d talk. ‘How’s it going?’ they’d ask. Or, ‘how’re you doing today?’ Or a simple ‘hello’. Or comments on the weather. We’d chat until the light changed and then go our separate ways.

The people dressed nicely passed by in a hurry. On their way to the local bars or shops, intent, I assume, on their next errand or next stop. Even people wearing the lanyard that identified them as attending the same training I was in didn’t speak. No eye contact, not even a simple ‘hello’.

Why? The hurry? The responsibilities on their minds? None even commented on the weather while waiting at the cross walk.

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Here at home we mainly talk about rain

Thinking about that led to all sorts of musings on society, but also made me think about dialog in writing.

Think about the last book you read. Was there any dialog that went along the lines of ‘hi, how are you?’ ‘fine, how are you?’. Or ‘nice weather we’re having’.

If there was, an editor somewhere failed. Because that kind of dialog, whether in a book or standing chatting with a homeless person, is nothing more than polite filler. It’s an acknowledgement of the person near you, a sort of polite verbal nod that doesn’t mean anything more.

As a side note, someone once told me while in line at a grocery store, that if it wasn’t for weather we’d have nothing to talk about.

In books, that filler dialog shouldn’t be present because it doesn’t move the story forward, or develop character arcs, or add anything to pacing, tension, or structure. You don’t notice its absence when reading, either, because subconsciously you know it’s filler. You’d probably find it annoying if it showed up in a book. You’d probably start thinking, ‘come on, get on with it’ because you’re invested in the story.

In real life though, we should notice when it’s absent. Why couldn’t those nicely dressed people at least have said ‘evening’ as they passed? And I’m not making an over-all generalization here, meaning one or two homeless people did not speak and one or two nicely dressed people did. Absolutely across the board, only homeless people chatted with me.

Of course those who know me personally could make a solid argument (and probably be right) that it was me attracting the types of conversation. I’m not exactly one of those high-maintenance, fancy dress types.

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I dressed a bit nicer for the training

But still, the clear-cut lines about who chatted with me and who didn’t, surprised me. It was nice to return home to mountains and snow, and locals who will stand in the street in all types of weather, and talk about everything and anything.

Including the weather.

Simply A Quote

Jessica Page Morrell is the author of one of my favorite books on writing, Between the Lines. I love this quote from the book, as both a reader and a writer.

‘…a compelling narrative often lies between the lines, in the quiet moments and the subtlest techniques, where fiction lifts off the page and settles into the veins of the reader.’

Haven’t we all been lifted off the page and settled deeply into the dream world of a fantastic story?

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Wolf Moon

The beautiful January full moon shining on deep snow right now is a Wolf Moon. Which reminds me of a story.

Many years ago when we first moved to this area, a couple guys from the Department of Fish and Wildlife came to our cabin wanting permission to cross our property for two things. One, they wanted to count returning Coho salmon in the creek that bisected our place. My father gave them permission and told them he’d have the salmon stacked neatly to make their counting easier. They weren’t sure if he was joking or not.

They also wanted permission because they were tracking a pair of tagged, denning wolves on our property, on the ridge. They asked us to not talk about the wolves to anyone because at that point in time they were still endangered and it was rare to have them in the area.

A few weeks later I was working on our water wheel down by the creek. I looked up and here was a wolf watching me. He had used the log foot bridge to cross the creek and stood only a few feet from me, just watching. And yes, I know the difference between a coyote and a wolf, and domesticated dog breeds and wolves. I knew exactly what I was looking at.

This guy was huge. And just standing there calmly watching me. I stood up, and he simply turned and went back over the bridge and into the woods.

That was the moment when I not only knew the definition of a word, but felt the definition of ‘awe’.

I’ll never have a moment like that again, looking into the eyes of a wild animal for a stretch of time with only wonder and no fear.

Granted, after the wolf left, I ran for the cabin yelling for our little toy fox terrier to get inside. Jello would have been a snack-size treat for the wolf. But before reality hit, there was awe.

I know that pair of wolves are long gone, though I don’t know whatever happened to them. But I hope their spirits are out there on the ridge under the winter moon.