My stories move forward best when I go heavy on dialogue. That's just how it is, and I can't change it. I'm not an exposition person. I'm not going to insert exposition just because ~ because I'm expected to, because I'm not a "real writer" if I don't balance things out. I can't even imagine reading a book that was entirely exposition. How do you even get to know the characters? Much more is revealed by what a character says.
I'm bothered, though, by the thought that maybe it's just me. If anyone bothered to buy one of my books, would that reliance on dialogue be a turnoff? I did a quick search of that question, and surprisingly "experts" say it's not an issue. Not that I'd change my style if the consensus was the opposite. I'm not writing a book report; I'm writing a novel that features humans interacting.
I could elongate my brief burst of exposition, I suppose, but I touch on the relevant points and dragging those scenes out would come across as "trying too hard".
Which brings me to yesterday's writing session. It went great! Starting is always the worst. It takes me a while to get into the mood to write, and picking up where I left off is difficult. The next lines are inevitably boring, because I'm still finding my way.
I knew what the next big scene had to be, and I dreaded it, not because it was "chilling" or "depressing", but because it was so important to the story. I couldn't mess it up. The main character, suddenly penniless, had to find a way to make enough money to get back to Nashville. Since the town she'd returned to was small ~ no, minuscule ~ her moneymaking opportunities were almost non-existent. She'd tried hocking her two most prized possessions, her boots and her guitar, but no one wanted either, so she was stuck. And she refused to accept anyone's charity.
That's when her old friend, the hotel manager, told her about the bar she once worked in; that the owner couldn't seem to find competent help. But going back there, even for a temporary gig, was fraught. She'd fled the town three months before without offering any goodbyes, and her bartender friend did not take it well. He felt betrayed, evidenced by his cold response the one time she phoned him from Nashville. And then there was her old band. The bandleader was the only person in town she'd bothered to tell she was leaving, and that was only done out of propriety. While he'd reacted well, she knew she let the band down and dreaded facing them again. But of course they would be playing at the bar on her first night back.
So, I eased into the scene. She's all dressed up in her saloon-issued uniform, but she's early, so she nervously paces the hotel lobby. Her only reliable friend, the hotel manager, has stepped out for an appointment, and the only other person there is the janitor/all-around go-fer, who's busy polishing the floor. He's a shy guy, so he doesn't say much of anything; just offers her an occasional encouraging smile. She sits down and tries to read, but she's too jumpy to concentrate. She jumps up every couple of minutes and stares out the window, hoping for ~ some kind of salvation? 'Til finally it's time to leave. Why that exposition? It was important to show how nervous she was; how much she dreaded what she had to do.
Once at the bar, her former friend, the bartender, reacted to her presence true-to-form. He did a double-take when he saw her, but he played it cool. Strike that ~ he played it "cold". Then there was the unfamiliar server working the few tables that were occupied. She wasn't exactly welcoming, either. Their introduction consisted of the server warning MC that she'd better "hold up her end", because it would get really busy in a couple of hours.
One scenario I hadn't considered was that the weekend patrons would be people she'd known well, both as a server and as a band singer, and how would she address their questions? Losing her record deal was humbling, especially considering the way she'd skirted out of town without a backward glance. (Note: She doesn't know for a fact that she's lost her record deal, but all signs are pointing in that direction.) I pondered whether she should lie to the customers who asked, but that wouldn't be true to character, so she just flat-out leveled with them. Which (editorial note) is always the best policy.
Then...ta-da!...the band took the stage. Her replacement was a girl who even looked a bit like her ~ same curly blonde hair ~ and MC instantly hated her. Plus, MC became instantly aggrieved at being replaced, which is irrational, but that's how people are. She acted out a bit; grabbed the can of corn starch from behind the bar to sprinkle on the dance floor; weaved between the dancing couples with unnecessary flourish; made a complete ass of herself.
It got worse. Suddenly, the band began playing her hit song. And that's when she really lost it. Standing at a table taking an order, the woman customer remarked how much she loved the song, and her date mentioned that he didn't normally like "feminist" songs, but this one really hit him. MC went off on them. "It's not a feminist song! She's not singing it right!" The couple were both perplexed and insulted. MC refused to let it go until she realized she was jeopardizing her tips and possibly her job, so she abruptly apologized and scooted back to the bar, after mumbling she was glad they liked the song. Again, why would she be glad, they might wonder, not knowing she had written it.
I admit, I really love those crazy anger scenes, especially when the people on the receiving end have no clue why the person has gone off the deep end. I would have made it longer, but that would just be milking it.
What this did accomplish was a breaking of the ice between her and the bartender. He'd seen the exchange and felt sympathy for her. So, he told her to sit for five minutes, which she protested until he insisted; then he poured her a glass of the drink he'd given her the first time she was hired at the bar and was nervous as hell, "agave", or rather, tequila.
As for the band, they hadn't noticed her from their perch on the bandstand, so they were shocked at closing time when she, per the bartender's instructions, went up to their table to offer them their customary free drinks. The exchange went well; anticlimactic, but I'd already written enough drama for the night. Their new girl singer was awestruck when she found out who was waiting on them, and MC swallowed her pride and told the girl that she'd done "a good job".
Overall, the scene went well. A bit of tweaking is in order, but like my MC, I faced my fears.
Yes, it's very dialogue-heavy. It needed to be. I hope I conveyed the night's atmosphere ~ schizophrenic. I'm a little dizzy just recalling it.
As for what the scene conveyed, I think (and I might be wrong) that my MC is extremely protective of both her one-time status as a recording artist and of her songs. And maybe she's not quite ready to give up on her career, although that decision might have already been made for her. I do have some ideas, however.
Then there is her one-time love, who still hasn't made an appearance. He will shortly. I have two ways to go with that. Their meet-up, I mean. I know how it will ultimately turn out, just not how to make it happen.
In the meantime, her cousin will be putting a melody to the lyrics she sent him, and the resulting song might be a catalyst to something positive. Not to mention, her famous mentor has to slip back into the story somehow. I haven't forgotten about the "secret" I left dangling.
I might just be on a roll. Rolling is a good feeling.
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