Warning – this is a long post, but I wanted to walk you through all the phases. It’s a YA novel by Wendy – she didn’t tell me what her dilemma was, and it was a solid piece to start with – but I found a few things to highlight.

Let’s start with the original:

Paige joined me as I was walking back toward my drum. “Good morning, starshine–” she said as she bumped one of her hips into mine. “What were you doing over there?” She said it like she would have said, “What were you doing over in that place that is quarantined for deadly diseases such as small pox or the bubonic plague?”

I flashed her a pained smile that I hoped said, “It was no big deal,” even though it was. Out loud I said, “Just asking a question.”

“Ah. You’re lucky snottiness isn’t contagious.”

I nodded. “No kidding. That Brittney is a real piece of work.”

Paige laughed. “Yes, Brittney is a breed all her own. And that drummer guy–Jordan What’s-his-name? I doubt he ever eats because he’s already so full of himself.”

I was completely shocked. “He’s a great drummer,” I said.

Paige snorted. “Yeah, and knows it. I mean, have you ever seen him without his drum on? He’s probably figured out a way to pee while wearing it. What an idiot.”

I could barely wrap my brain around what Paige was saying. Couldn’t she see? “But he’s so . . . hot.”

Paige looked at me closely. “No amount of hotness makes up for a complete lack of personality,” she said. Paige continued staring at me; I looked away.

After several seconds that lasted for eternity, she said, “Huh.”

It wasn’t a dull “huh”–the type that would follow “uh” or “nuh”. It was an oh-now-I-get-it type “huh”. But it didn’t sound excited. I took the bait. “What do you mean, ‘huh’?” I asked.

“I finally figured out why you were so dressed up that first day. I had been leaning toward your bass drum cohort–”

“Grant?!” I said, way too loudly. I lowered my voice. “He’s like, I don’t know, a brother.”

Paige shrugged. “Still, he’s cute, and is WAY more interesting than Mr.-possibly-doesn’t-take-his-drum-off-even-to-bathe.”

I don’t think I’d ever thought about Grant as cute. I remember noticing he had a nice smile, but that was about it. Besides, he bugged me too much, with his ‘proper technique’ and ‘I can tell you haven’t been playing long’ and ‘you talked to them?’ I shook the thought off and said, “Of course he takes it off–he wears different clothes every day.”

Paige dismissed this with a flip of her wrist, “Whatever.”

Susie here: This dialogue just needs some tightening, and a little more “Tell it like it is.” Let’s also take a look at the goals: Paige doesn’t want the POV character to hang out with these guys, maybe she fears losing her. The POV character sees beyond their outsides (it seems) to what is inside. She probably wants her friend to see that, too.

I’m going to walk you though my changes, so you can see my thought process. You may or may not agree…these are just suggestions:

Paige joined me as I was walking back toward my drum. “Good morning, starshine–” she said as she bumped one of her hips into mine. “What were you doing over there?” She said it like she would have said, “What were you doing over in that place that is quarantined for deadly diseases such as small pox or the bubonic plague?” (nice use of tone)

I flashed her a pained smile that I hoped said, “It was no big deal,” even though it was. Out loud I said, “Just asking a question.” (take out the “was” words, and change the “said” – keep that as a dialogue tag. Then, make it more sparse, so the words stand out — I flashed her a pained smile that I hoped communicated, “no big deal” even though it was. “Just asking a question.”)

“Ah. You’re lucky snottiness isn’t contagious.”

I nodded. “No kidding. That Brittney is a real piece of work.” (take out, “I nodded” – When you’re agreeing in dialogue, you don’t need the physical action to accompany it.)

Paige laughed. “Yes, Brittney is a breed all her own. And that drummer guy–Jordan What’s-his-name? I doubt he ever eats because he’s already so full of himself.” (Can you make this a little more snarky? They’re being so nice here. – i.e. – “A piece of work? Sweetie, she needs her own entourage and a drum roll wherever she goes. And she’s got it in that drummer guy – Jordan What’s-his-name. Between the two of them, there’s hardly enough room in the halls to get by, they’re so full of themselves.”)

(Even better – ask a current high school student what THEY would say).

I was completely shocked. (can you make this more showing than telling? ie: I stopped, and she walked out two paces before realizing I didn’t follow her.)

“He’s a great drummer,” I said. (You don’t need the “I said,” because we’re still on her description line.)

Paige snorted. “Yeah, and knows it. I mean, have you ever seen him without his drum on? He’s probably figured out a way to pee while wearing it. What an idiot.”

I could barely wrap my brain around what Paige was saying. Couldn’t she see? “But he’s so . . . hot.” (I just made that tighter.–)

I could barely wrap my brain around Paige’s words. “But he’s so . . . hot.”

Paige looked at me closely – (again, let’s bring that into a more showing line – Try: Paige closed the gap, her face in mine, apparently so I could read her lips.)

“No amount of hotness makes up for a complete lack of personality,” she said. Paige continued staring at me; I looked away. (You don’t need this line. Instead, for a second, bring us out of the conversation, to the world around, to the rush of high schoolers switching classes, and how, right now, she sees the difference between the two of them — i.e.: I broke away from her gaze, watching a group of jocks behind her, dressed in their letter jackets, harassing a couple computer geeks, one of them hanging on the locker door, spilling out the contents onto the floor. On the other side of the hall, Jerry and his girlfriend were lip locked, him pressing her into the locker. Brittany emerged from Mrs. Taylor’s room, three girls in tow. The warning bell rang.

“Huh,” Paige said, (– I like the shook her head here, but I changed it all the bottom, and also we need something to bring the attention back now. Good Fightin’ Word, BTW. Try: Paige said, cutting through the chaos. )

It wasn’t a dull “huh”–the type that would follow “uh” or “nuh”. It was an oh-now-I-get-it type “huh”.
But it didn’t sound excited. I took the bait. (This is something I call telegraphing. It’s telling the reader what to expect before they walk into the dialogue. Dialogue should take us by surprise, capture us. If we brace ourselves before hand, we miss the impact. Dive right in. Try: Heat rose inside me, touched my voice.)

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?

“I finally figured out why you were so dressed up that first day. I had been leaning toward your bass drum cohort–”

(Chose one punctuation – “Grant?!” Also – maybe you could show us her volume: ie.e: “Grant?” The lip lockers glanced at me. (instead of: I said, way too loudly.)

I lowered my voice. “He’s like, I don’t know…a brother.” (I added ellipses for more of a pause)Paige shrugged. “Still, he’s cute, and is WAY more interesting than Mr.-possibly-doesn’t-take-his-drum-off-even-to-bathe.”

I don’t think I’d ever thought about Grant as cute. I remember noticing he had a nice smile, but that was about it. (– You can tighten this up. Take out think, and noticing…)

I had never thought about Grant as…cute. He had a nice smile, but that was about it. Besides, he bugged me too much, with his ‘proper technique’ and ‘I can tell you haven’t been playing long’
and ‘you talked to them?’

I shook the thought off (– this is a great place for a real definitive inner monologue. Try: Grant wasn’t cute. He was…nice. And, clean. “Of course he takes the drum off–he wears different clothes every day.” (I added “the drum” because the “it” pronoun was a bit far from the noun)

Paige dismissed this with a flip of her wrist, “Whatever.” (Okay, this is where Paige can see the truth, despite her protest (does the pov really love Grant?) and in YA wisdom reacts with, you’re such an idiot… I love the Whatever – let’s give her a more resonant reply…like she’s washing her hands of her friend’s ignorance by adding a definitive action to her words. Try: One of the computer geeks knocked her in the shoulder, running for his escape, but Paige didn’t move, didn’t take her eyes from mine, didn’t smile. Then, she gave a small shake of her head. “Whatever,” she said, as she turned and walked away. )

*****

I hope you can read my comments in there, see the changes. You might have to print it out, compare and contrast from the original. …

Here’s the final product:

Paige joined me as I was walking back toward my drum. “Good morning, starshine–” she said as she bumped one of her hips into mine. “What were you doing over there?” She said it like she would have said, “What were you doing over in that place that is quarantined for deadly diseases such as small pox or the bubonic plague?”

I flashed her a pained smile that I hoped communicated, “no big deal” even though it was. “Just asking a question.”

“Ah. You’re lucky snottiness isn’t contagious.”

“No kidding. That Brittney is a real piece of work.”

“A piece of work? Sweetie, she needs her own entourage and a drum roll wherever she goes. And she’s got it in that drummer guy – Jordan What’s-his-name. Between the two of them, there’s hardly enough room in the halls to get by, they’re so full of themselves.”

I stopped, and she walked out two paces before realizing I didn’t follow her. “He’s a great drummer.”

Paige snorted. “Yeah, and knows it. I mean, have you ever seen him without his drum on? He’s probably figured out a way to pee while wearing it. What an idiot.”

I could barely wrap my brain around Paige’s words. “But he’s so . . . hot.”

Paige closed the gap, her face in mine, apparently so I could read her lips. “No amount of hotness makes up for a complete lack of personality,”

I broke away from her gaze, watching a group of jocks behind her dressed in their letter jackets harassing a couple computer geeks, one of them hanging on the locker door, spilling out the contents onto the floor. On the other side of the hall, Jerry and his girlfriend were lip locked, him pressing her into the locker. Brittany emerged from Mrs. Taylor’s room, three girls in tow. The warning bell rang.

“Huh,” Paige said, cutting through the chaos.

It wasn’t a dull “huh”–the type that would follow “uh” or “nuh”. It was an oh-now-I-get-it type “huh”.

Heat rose inside me, touched my voice. “What do you mean, ‘huh’?”

“I finally figured out why you were so dressed up that first day. I had been leaning toward your bass drum cohort–”

“Grant?” The lip lockers glanced at me. I lowered my voice. “He’s like, I don’t know…a brother.”

Paige shrugged. “Still, he’s cute, and is WAY more interesting than Mr.-possibly-doesn’t-take-his-drum-off-even-to-bathe.”

I had never thought about Grant as…cute. He had a nice smile, but that was about it. Besides, he bugged me too much, with his ‘proper technique’ and ‘I can tell you haven’t been playing long’ and ‘you talked to them?’

Grant wasn’t cute. He was…nice. And, clean. “Of course he takes the drum off–he wears different clothes every day.”

One of the computer geeks knocked Paige in the shoulder, running for his escape, but she didn’t move, didn’t take her eyes from mine, didn’t smile. Then, she gave a small shake of her head. “Whatever,” she said, as she turned and walked away.

****

Again, this submission had great bones, it just needed some tightening, some focus on the goals, a little more “tell it like it is.” Great story!! Thank you Wendy for letting us learn from you!

Tomorrow, I’m going to do something different – we had one entry that was really spot on…I’m going to go through it and point out all the things we can learn from….*g* Stop by tomorrow to see whose post it was!

Off to work on my OWN dialogue dilemmas! Happy writing!