Writing Craft
A scene can be technically efficient and still feel dead.
If every line is there to move the plot along, the characters start sounding like they’re reading stage directions to each other. A bit of hesitation helps. So does irritation. So does a pointless remark about the weather, or the cup in someone’s hand, or the thing they’re both avoiding.
That’s usually where the useful information lands. Not in the polished exchange, but in the bit where someone delays, dodges, or says the wrong thing. Real speech wastes time. Fiction often needs a little of that waste.
If every line is there to move the plot along, the characters start sounding like they’re reading stage directions to each other. A bit of hesitation helps. So does irritation. So does a pointless remark about the weather, or the cup in someone’s hand, or the thing they’re both avoiding.
That’s usually where the useful information lands. Not in the polished exchange, but in the bit where someone delays, dodges, or says the wrong thing. Real speech wastes time. Fiction often needs a little of that waste.
A little waste only works if it earns its keep. Otherwise it’s just padding with better manners.
What often matters more is friction. People don’t speak in clean turns because they’re trying to manage each other, not exchange information. In a draft, I usually check whether the “small talk” is doing any of that work. If not, it can go. If it is, it tends to be the bit that makes the scene feel inhabited.
What often matters more is friction. People don’t speak in clean turns because they’re trying to manage each other, not exchange information. In a draft, I usually check whether the “small talk” is doing any of that work. If not, it can go. If it is, it tends to be the bit that makes the scene feel inhabited.