Discover what implied dialogue is and four ways you can use it in your novel, whatever the genre, to enrich your readers’ experience.
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TABLE 1
Text |
Type of prose |
Psychic distance between narrator and reader
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‘Spoiler,’ said Reynolds. ‘I re-interviewed the surviving witnesses and they agreed that Anthony Lane opened fire at the Mary Engine and the jars on the rack. Before you ask, they were both interns and didn’t know where the items had come from.’
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Direct speech
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Wider
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The dead guy, a certain Branwell Petersen, MIT graduate and former Microsoft employee, had died, the witnesses thought, because he stepped between the shooter and the Rose Jars.
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Implied dialogue
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Closer
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‘The interns said he threw himself into the line of fire,’ said Reynolds. ‘As if his life was less important.’
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Direct speech
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Wider
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TABLE 2a
Text |
Type of prose |
I stopped to orientate myself and spotted a street sign – Coldharbour Lane. I’d been in bloody Brixton the whole time. […] I wanted off the street, but didn’t want to put a random homeowner in danger. Instead we ran left towards the train station.
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Narrative: Location of lair
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[…] After less than a hundred metres, Foxglove was showing signs of serious distress and I felt her stumble a couple of times, but we’d reached the shopping parade by then and fortunately the Nisa Local was still open. A nervous black girl of about fifteen who was manning the tills gave us a weary look of disgust as we rushed in. Then got all confused when I told her I was a police office and that I needed to use a phone.
[…] I retreated with Foxglove into the corner where we’d be hidden by the shelves and called Guleed. |
Narrative: Location of store
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[…] Guleed picked up, and I said, ‘We’re in the Nisa Local near Brixton Station and Chorley’s lair is on Coldharbour Lane.’
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Direct speech: Repetition of narrative x2
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TABLE 2b
Text |
Type of prose |
I stopped to orientate myself and spotted a street sign – Coldharbour Lane. I’d been in bloody Brixton the whole time. […] I wanted off the street, but didn’t want to put a random homeowner in danger. Instead we ran left towards the train station.
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Narrative: Location of lair
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[…] After less than a hundred metres, Foxglove was showing signs of serious distress and I felt her stumble a couple of times, but we’d reached the shopping parade by then and fortunately the Nisa Local was still open. A nervous black girl of about fifteen who was manning the tills gave us a weary look of disgust as we rushed in. Then got all confused when I told her I was a police office and that I needed to use a phone.
[…] I retreated with Foxglove into the corner where we’d be hidden by the shelves and called Guleed. |
Narrative: Location of store
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Guleed picked up, and I told her where I was, and where Chorley’s lair was, and let her get on with it.
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Implied dialogue
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TABLE 3
Text |
Type of prose |
Psychic distance between narrator and reader
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I flipped the master power switch as soon as I was inside and pulled a Coke out of the fridge to serve as a coffee substitute while I waited for my PC to boot up. As soon as Skype was running, Reynolds’s call flashed up.
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Narrative
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Closer
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‘What was all that about?’ I asked when I saw her face.
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Direct speech
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Wider
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‘Skinner’s been connected to another case,’ she said.
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Direct speech
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Wider
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At 10.15 on a Monday morning in August 2015, one Anthony Lane walked into the offices of an obscure tech start-up in San Jose carrying a concealed handgun. He talked his way past the receptionist before using the threat of force to gain access to the secure area at the rear and then, once he was in, opened fire. One person was killed instantly, two others were wounded and Lane himself was shot eight times in the back by a responding police officer. The attack barely made the news, being just one of several hundred to several thousand – depending on where you set the parameters – of active shooter incidents so far that year.
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Implied dialogue
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Closer
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‘It wasn’t on my list,’ said Reynolds, ‘because the perp was dead.’
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Direct speech
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Wider
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TABLE 4
Text |
Type of prose |
‘I’ve checked for booby traps and handed it over to the local boys. Alexander is sending a search party tomorrow.’
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Direct speech
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He asked after Stephanopoulos and I passed on the assurances that Dr Walid had given me. I asked if he was heading back tonight and he said he was.
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Implied dialogue
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‘Anything else to report?’ he asked.
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Direct speech
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‘A creeping sense of existential dread,’ I said. ‘Apart from that I’m good.’
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Direct speech
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‘Chin up, Peter. He’s on his last legs – I can feel it.’
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Direct speech
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Once Nightingale had rung off I called Guleed, who’d been arriving as a nasty surprise to bell foundries and metal casting companies from Dudley to Wolverhampton all day.
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Narrative
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She said she’d been just about to phone.
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Implied dialogue
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‘I was right,’ she said. ‘There’s another bell.’
[SECTION BREAK] |
Direct speech: Standout one-liner
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They veered onto a side street off Storgatan.
Jorge's phone rang. Paola: "It's me. Que haces, hermano?" Jorge thought: Should I tell her the truth? "I'm in Södertälje." "At a bakery?" Paola: J-boy loved her. Still, he couldn't take it. He said, "Yeah, yeah, ‘course I'm at a bakery. But we gotta talk later—I got my hands full of muffins here." They hung up. |
Maycomb was an old town, but it was a tired old town when I first knew it. In rainy weather the streets turned to red slop; grass grew on the sidewalks, the court-house sagged in the square. Somehow, it was hotter then; a black dog suffered on a summer’s day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square. Men’s stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three o’clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft tea-cakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.
People moved slowly then. They ambled across the square, shuffled in and out of the stores around it, took their time about everything. A day was twenty-four hours long but seemed longer. There was no hurry, for there was nowhere to go, nothing to buy and no money to buy it with, nothing to see outside the boundaries of Maycomb County. But it was a time of vague optimism for some of the people: Maycomb County had recently been told that it had nothing to fear but fear itself. |
‘I’ plus filter word. Reader’s gaze is inwards, on the how
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Recast: Reader’s gaze drawn outwards towards the what
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I recall the argument we had last week.
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Last week’s argument is still fresh in my mind.
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I recognized the man’s face.
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The man’s face was familiar.
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I saw the guy turn left and dart into the alley.
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The guy turned left and darted into the alley.
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I spotted the red Chevy from yesterday parked outside the bank.
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There, parked outside the bank, was the same red Chevy from yesterday.
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I still feel ashamed about the vile words I unleashed even after all these years.
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The vile words I unleashed still have the power to bathe me in shame even after all these years.
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‘I’-centred introspection
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‘I’-less introspection
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I wasn’t sure if Shami was a reliable witness but I couldn’t afford to ignore her, given what she’d divulged.
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Was Shami a reliable witness? Maybe, maybe not. She couldn’t be ignored given what she’d divulged.
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I still didn’t know who the killer was.
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The killer’s identity was still a mystery.
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I wondered whether Shami was a reliable witness.
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Shami might or might not be a reliable witness.
Shami’s reliability as a witness was hardly a given. Shami’s reliability as a witness was questionable. |
“Come on!” he screams.
‘It’s very … evocative,’ says Ruth. This is true. The brushwork may be crude, the planes out of perspective and the figures barely more than stick men, but there’s something about the work of the unknown airman that brings back the past more effectively than any documentary or reconstruction. |
‘But you think they’re coming back,’ Karen said.
‘Yes, indeed, and we gonna have a surprise party. I want you to take a radio, go down to the lobby and hang out with the folks. You see Foley and this guy Bragg, what do you do?’ ‘Call and tell you.’ ‘And you let them come up. You understand? You don’t try to make the bust yourself.’ Burdon slipping back into his official mode. Karen said, ‘What if they see me?’ ‘You don’t let that happen,’ Burdon said. ‘I want them upstairs.’ |
‘We’ll bring him in,’ says Lady Tippins, sportively waving her green fan. ‘Veneering for ever!’
‘We’ll bring him in!’ says Twemlow. ‘We’ll bring him in!’ say Boots and Brewer. Strictly speaking, it would be hard to show cause why they should not bring him in, Pocket-Breaches having closed its little bargain, and there being no opposition. However, it is agreed that they must ‘work’ to the last, and that, if they did not work, something indefinite would happen. It is likewise agreed they are all so exhausted with the work behind them, and need to be so fortified for the work before them, as to require peculiar strengthening from Veneering’s cellar. |