Excerpt of a novel
Emma, a 26-year-old junior doctor in Cardiff has been suppressing her submissive identity out of shame. She’s been keeping people at arm’s length until she meets Inge on a night out, a 29-year-old dominant from The Netherlands, who seems to reveal very little about her past.
In this chapter Emma and Inge go on their first date.
Dialogue
While it may seem simple to write dialogue by copying text straight out of a real-life conversation, in reality, people don’t articulate themselves as clearly as fiction sometimes portrays. In any work of fiction (whether written, in film or a game) ‘the art is to make [dialogue] seem natural.’ [1] In other words, it is all about finding the balance between fictionalising and keeping the realism of a conversation.
In fiction writing, speech attributes can help provide clarity to the reader. Within several lines of running dialogue a single speech attribute such as ‘Emma said,’ helps orientate the reader.
Descriptive sentences add another function to the text. “Emma shuffled against the back of her chair” suggests that Emma is nervous, which helps dramatise the dialogue and enhances the mood.
While fiction writing is dependant on speech attributes and descriptive sentences, in game writing these can be replaced by visual elements.
The one thing that fiction writing, games and films have in common is that all elements have work together to create the desired effect.
The function of dialogue
Dialogue provides characterisation for the characters by creating a certain tone of voice. The way the character speaks or makes jokes says a lot about their personalities. In the example below, Inge often makes clear statements such as telling Emma that “Early is good” and telling her that she’d perceived her as a person who would like tea. This suggests that Inge is a confident person. On the other hand, Emma’s speech feels much more uncertain: “‘Well… it said you’re the daughter of a hero and…’ She stopped. Her glance drifted towards the ceiling.”
Additionally, dialogue can reveal information about the character’s personal lives. Inge tells Emma a bit about her background and Emma tells Inge a little about her family.
Chapter 4: The first date
The chime of a bell rang as Emma closed the door to the cafe and immediately a young woman in a green apron came over. ‘Have you made reservations for Afternoon Tea?’ ‘Uh… No, I don’t think so,’ Emma said. She reached for her zipper, feeling her face flush with heat. She peered inside and quickly scanned the tables. ‘But I’m meeting someone. I don’t think she’s here yet.’ ‘That’s no problem, take any seat.’ ‘Thanks,’ Emma said. She started walking. The cafe was filled with pleasant chatter and the scent of a mixture of tea and sweet caramelised sugar. She passed a couple at a table on her right and moved past the counter, which had an assortment of different cakes on display. Her stomach rumbled but she kept her gaze fixed on the empty tables in the back. She chose a seat that had a clear view of the entrance and when she sat down her shoulders briefly relaxed. She checked her phone; she was ten minutes early. The menu had a large selection of teas covering the basic flavours as well as ‘Dragon Well’ and ‘Iron Goddess of Mercy’, which gave no indication of the flavour she could expect. The coffee section was more limited, but that didn’t matter. She’d order a normal coffee once Inge arrived. Simple and safe. Her glance trailed back to the window. At five to four, the street was mostly empty apart for a few people who were beginning the rush hour early. ‘Are you ready to order?’ Emma shuffled against the back of her chair. ‘I’m just waiting for my friend to arrive.’ The waitress left with a smile and Emma checked the time again; it was one minute to five. Her glance trailed over to the pistachio wall where the clock jumped to 5 o'clock. What if she’d gone to the wrong place? There was another café called Waterloo’s Tea. She touched a petal of the pink flower on the table. It felt smooth and thick, like a real flower. All of the tables had one of these. The tinkle of the bell announced the arrival of a new customer. She had her hair down, reaching to just below her shoulders. Inge spotted Emma immediately and she walked over with a confident stride. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be late,’ Inge began. ‘No, you’re not late,’ Emma said, unsure if she should get up to greet her. ‘I was a bit early.’ ‘Early is good.’ Inge sat down with a smile and took off her coat, revealing a loose white top. ‘I love the tea here. Have you been before?’ Emma shook her head. ‘I’m more of a coffee person.’ Inge looked at her curiously as if she was trying to answer a question that hadn't been asked aloud and it made Emma shift in her seat. ‘I thought you’d be a tea person’ ‘Oh, why?’ Inge smiled. ‘You seem so innocent.’ Emma's cheeks flushed red. She pushed her smile aside, unwilling to admit that Inge might be right. ‘I’m not.’ Inge raised an eyebrow, still smiling. ‘Evidently,’ she said with a teasing undertone. She reached over the table for the menu and for a fleeting moment, Emma hoped their hands would touch; then she felt embarrassed when they didn't. Emma leaned forward slightly. ‘I was just going to have a coffee.’ ‘Don't you want to try something new? What about…' Inge ran her finger over the menu. 'Tangerine Ginger tea?’ Just then, the waitress appeared, and Inge swiftly ordered herself the Tangerine Ginger tea. 'Uhm,' Emma mumbled. She glanced at the menu. Her fingers were fumbling under the table. 'I think I'll try that one too, please.’ 'So you are adventurous,' Inge said jokingly. Emma shrugged; it felt like Inge had just given her a compliment. It went quiet and Emma listened to the waitress's subsiding footsteps. There was a gentle clink as a spoon hit a teacup. Her glance moved to two ladies in the front of the shop and then followed a passerby in a quilted parka outside. The chatter at the window seats seemed to become louder. Emma pushed her finger against her thumb and cast a quick glance at Inge. ‘I looked up your name,’ she said with feigned confidence that perished immediately. Now Inge would know she'd been stalking her online. ‘I wasn’t sure if I’d heard it right. I mean–In the club.’ Inge lifted her chin off her hand. ‘Inge?’ she said with a much gentler g than Emma had imagined. ‘Yeah, but I like it–your name.’ ‘What did the internet say?’ ‘Well… it said you’re the daughter of a hero and…’ She stopped. Her glance drifted towards the ceiling. It had also said that ‘Inge’ meant ‘a beauty,’ but she couldn’t tell Inge that. Emma tried to hide her blush, thinking that part was certainly true. ‘So I am not the hero? Only the daughter of a hero?’ Inge said, seemingly unaware of Emma’s unease. ‘I guess it’s a lot of work to be a hero? Maybe it’s a good thing.’ Inge laughed. ‘Yes, maybe.’ The waitress returned with two glass cups filled with a steamy bright orange liquid and a floating piece of ginger. Grateful to find something to do with her hands, Emma cupped her fingers around the glass and inhaled the tea's sweet scent. She followed the rising steam with her eyes but remained aware of Inge's blurred silhouette from across the table. ‘It’s very unusual for you to meet up with someone just like that. I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes or if I’d scare you by asking,’ Inge said. ‘You didn’t scare me,’ Emma said quickly, but any follow up thoughts disappeared like the sand in an hourglass. Inge had seemed very confident when she asked her out after Pilates; it had made Emma answer without thinking. ‘I'm glad I didn't.' Inge smiled upon seeing the question in Emma’s eyes. 'Scare you.' Emma burned her palms on her teacup. With a flushed face, she pulled her hands back. She and Inge looked at each other for a moment and a warm feeling rose in Emma's chest. Who was this woman who looked at her with such gentle curiosity? 'Where are you from?' she heard herself say. 'I grew up in Rotterdam, The Netherlands and then I moved to Utrecht for my studies.' Emma remembered reading Inge had studied in Utrecht on her LinkedIn profile. She tried to keep a straight face and pretended she didn't know. She really was a stalker! 'What did you study?' Emma said. 'Law,' Inge answered with a laugh. 'Sounds really boring, doesn't it?' Emma took a sip of her tea by tilting the cup rather than lifting it. 'You don't seem boring to me.' 'You'd be surprised. Sometimes I like to sit on a bench and do nothing but watch my surroundings… The birds, trees, nature.' Inge circled the rim of her cup with her finger. 'I like looking at the clouds. Only in summer though.' 'I love reading outside in summer. Do you read?' The silly hero in Emma’s brother’s novel came to mind. He’d self-published and had given her a copy, which had remained mostly unread on her bedside table. Now that Christmas was coming up, she’d felt pressure to read it; though she disliked it and as a result wasn’t reading anything at all. 'I haven't much recently; my brother is making me read his self-published book.' Inge rested her chin on her hands. 'Doesn't sound like you're impressed?' 'I don't know. I feel like I should support him.' 'Is he younger than you?' ‘Yes, he's in his last year at University.' 'So where are you from? Did you study here in Cardiff?' Emma arm’s relaxed. 'I'm from Liverpool and studied Biology here for my undergrad. I only took it because it was my best subject in school, but it wasn't bad. I wasn't sure what to do afterwards so I went home for a year, then when I was offered a bursary for the radiography course I came back and became a radiologist.' Inge had been gently nodding along. 'So you work in the hospital?' 'Yes, A&E. It's stressful. That’s why Helena took me to the Pilates class. I mean, Helena, my flatmate.' 'Helena? Is that who you came with? I know her, we said hi.' Emma stared at her for a moment. Did they know each other? She didn’t want Helena to know about this–whatever this was with Inge–if it turned out to be nothing. 'How do you know each other?' 'The place I mentioned the other night, Metros. We've both been to the same events a few times.' Emma couldn’t picture Helena going to a club. She'd never been interested in going out and much less in drinking. It didn't make sense. 'Have I been missing out?' Emma suggested wryly. 'Depends on what you're into.' Inge caught Emma’s gaze and stared into her eyes as if she could look right through her. Nervously, Emma took another sip from her cup. 'So what do you think?' Inge said. Emma looked at Inge dumbfounded. 'Your tea.' 'Oh,' Emma smiled embarrassedly. She recalled the tangerine flavour that had filled her mouth with the slight trace of ginger. 'It's not that bad.' 'Would've preferred that coffee, huh?' 'No,' Emma said, although she would've liked the caffeine. 'It was nice to try something else.' 'How would you like to try something from The Netherlands? You could come over to my place.’ 'What is it?' 'Poffertjes.' The word passed Emma by the same way Inge's name had when they first met. 'It's kind of sweet.' Inge put a finger on her chin. 'A little bit like pancakes, but different.' 'Like pancakes… but different…' Emma repeated. Inge smiled and a small grin appeared on Emma's face. Inge was teasing her, perhaps deliberately keeping the description vague so that she would… say yes? 'That's right,' Inge said. 'Okay.' Inge's eyes were smiling. Suddenly Emma remembered she might not have time. 'I'm not sure when I'm off next. They said they were changing our shifts.' 'That's okay. Why don't you text me when you know?' 'I thought you didn't have a phone?' 'Oh, yeah, sorry about that. It's being repaired right now. I'll probably get it back tomorrow. Can I?' Emma passed her the phone and watched Inge put her own name in Emma’s contacts. 'Let me know when you're free and I'll make sure to get the ingredients.' 'Okay, I'll let you know,' Emma said.
1] Andrew Cowan, The Art of Writing Fiction (New York: Routledge, 2013), p. 104.