Here's something I did tonight. Experimenting with tags. I tried to punctuate the dialogue with action and reaction to avoid a ping-pong feeling like you see here:
“I want to go to the party.”
“Don’t you think I know what goes on at those things?”
“I want to go, all my friends—“
“Are you a sheep? You sure sound like one.”
“I just want to go, nothing will happen.”
“It’s all drugs and sex. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes.”
"It's not all that stuff."
“How do you know it’s not all that stuff? You haven’t been invited to a party since you were eleven years old.”
“Which is why I want to go!”
“You’ll get a drugged drink, and some joker will cut your hair off.”
“Oh. I guess I don’t want to go so much.”
Now here it is with tags:
“I want to go to the party.” Marjorie avoided her mother’s eyes.
Her mother stared up at Marjorie over her knitting. “Don’t you think I know what goes on at those things?”
“I want to go, all my friends—“
“Are you a sheep? You sure sound like one.” Marjorie’s mother returned her grey eyes to her knitting. She was making a yellow and blue hat with a big pompom on the top for Marjorie.
“I just want to go, nothing will happen.” She was twisting her black hair between three fingers as if to spin it into gold.
“It’s all drugs and sex. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes.” The knitting had stopped, she was appraising her daughter like an Orkin man examining a festering ant pile.
“It’s not all that stuff. It’s the end of the year—“
“How do you know it’s not all that stuff? You haven’t been invited to a party since you were eleven years old.”
Marjorie jumped at the opening. “Which is why I want to go!”
Her mother calmly retorted,“You’ll get a drugged drink, and some joker will cut your hair off.”
Marjorie’s hands clenched her skein of hair. She had been growing it out for seven years. It was well past her waist, straight and thick. No one else in school had hair like hers, and while she was secretly proud of it, her classmates had seen it for what it was—something no one else had, or wanted.
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped. Her mother relaxed as the ants took the bait.
“I guess I don’t want to go so much.”
5 comments:
Good job. I have the hardest time making my tags not sound repetitive or cumbersome. I sould probably try more exercises like this one.
Nice!
Wow Ade, that was great. I loved the metaphor of the sheep/wool/knitting. I feel bad for Marjorie. Her mom sounds like Carrie's mom. I guess that's part of the point though...
Nice. I've been trying to do that in my own writing, but I'm finding that it's not very easy. I need to try more of what you just did, and weave the conversation around something else the characters are doing; it's a good way to show emotion (not just tell) and delve into the unique aspects of each character.
Oh yeah, I forgot... You're up on the Wall at the WCB website.
FLOG!
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