Read Online Writing and Selling the YA Novel by K. L. Going - Free Book Online
Authors: K. L. Going
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tone, letting your audience feel as if they're overhearing something interesting, even while the main character withholds information that isn't revealed until the end of the book. Remember to use both the positive (what is said) and the negative (what isn't said) as you craft your conversations on the page. Read them aloud to make sure they sound natural, and inspect your pages to make sure there's plenty of white space in your manuscript. If you notice long, solid blocks of black print, chances are you don't have enough dialogue. Go back and give your characters a chance to speak!
BODY LANGUAGE
Body language is a combination of action and dialogue, and it can be a very powerful tool. When done well, body language can add a subtle layer underneath the overt action, enhancing what your characters are saying and doing, and giving your audience additional insight into the scene you're creating.
We all read each other's body language in real life, so why not let it work for you in your fiction? That scowl you've seen flitting across your mother-in-law's face? Bring it to life on the face of your character's boss at the mall. The tension that creeps into your friend's shoulders every time she talks about her past? Study the way she reacts and use it to paint a picture for your readers that hints at something your character isn't revealing. Don't be afraid to let your characters itch, twitch, squirm, and squint.
Here's how body language worked for me in this scene from Fat Kid Rules the World. In this passage the main character, three hundred-pound Troy Billings, is observing the reactions around him as his semi-homeless, usually hyper friend Curt, joins his ex-marine father and sports fanatic little brother for dinner. Watch how body language sets the stage, cementing the character dynamics before the conversation even begins.
I sit next to the roast beef and mashed potatoes, and Dad passes the peas and bread. As usual, Dayle hogs the quart of milk. We wait for Curt to sit down, but he stands in the doorway looking nervous before sliding in next to Dayle. He folds his hands as if he's about to pray, looks up, notices we're not praying, and unfolds them guiltily. Dad glances at the clock to indicate that
we've lingered too long, but he doesn't say anything. Just passes the bread to Curt.
There's a lot of shuffling as the food gets passed and I sit back to watch the drama. It's twisted of me, I know, but I kind of enjoy the intense discomfort of it all. Everyone looks pained and for once I'm not the cause. Tonight, I am the most comfortable person in the room. I watch them all like a sociologist.
First, there's Curt. I know Curt's uncomfortable because he's restrained. He doesn't show any excitement except in the corners of his eyes and he's very careful to sit still. His napkin falls off his lap repeatedly, and every time it does, he glares at it as if it's betrayed him. When he bends down to pick it up, he tries not to bend his body, as if that might count as too much movement. Soon he's engaged in an all-out secret battle with the napkin that culminates in a covert stabbing with his fork.
Then there's Dad. I know Dad's uncomfortable because he doesn't speak. He limits himself to nods of encouragement or censure and keeps his posture perfect. This means he has to stifle his desire to correct Curt's posture, which is not perfect. Consequently, his grip on his knife tightens until his fingers turn completely white.
And of course, there's Dayle. I know Dayle's uncomfortable because ... well, I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't seen him dish the roast beef, but as soon as he lifts the serving fork I know. He takes
one portion instead of five even though he's desperate to gain weight, and he never once looks at Curt as he passes the tray.
Curt, however, takes five helpings, then puts half of it back. Then he retakes half of the half he just put back.
Dad takes a deep breath as the scene repeats itself with the mashed
BODY LANGUAGE
Body language is a combination of action and dialogue, and it can be a very powerful tool. When done well, body language can add a subtle layer underneath the overt action, enhancing what your characters are saying and doing, and giving your audience additional insight into the scene you're creating.
We all read each other's body language in real life, so why not let it work for you in your fiction? That scowl you've seen flitting across your mother-in-law's face? Bring it to life on the face of your character's boss at the mall. The tension that creeps into your friend's shoulders every time she talks about her past? Study the way she reacts and use it to paint a picture for your readers that hints at something your character isn't revealing. Don't be afraid to let your characters itch, twitch, squirm, and squint.
Here's how body language worked for me in this scene from Fat Kid Rules the World. In this passage the main character, three hundred-pound Troy Billings, is observing the reactions around him as his semi-homeless, usually hyper friend Curt, joins his ex-marine father and sports fanatic little brother for dinner. Watch how body language sets the stage, cementing the character dynamics before the conversation even begins.
I sit next to the roast beef and mashed potatoes, and Dad passes the peas and bread. As usual, Dayle hogs the quart of milk. We wait for Curt to sit down, but he stands in the doorway looking nervous before sliding in next to Dayle. He folds his hands as if he's about to pray, looks up, notices we're not praying, and unfolds them guiltily. Dad glances at the clock to indicate that
we've lingered too long, but he doesn't say anything. Just passes the bread to Curt.
There's a lot of shuffling as the food gets passed and I sit back to watch the drama. It's twisted of me, I know, but I kind of enjoy the intense discomfort of it all. Everyone looks pained and for once I'm not the cause. Tonight, I am the most comfortable person in the room. I watch them all like a sociologist.
First, there's Curt. I know Curt's uncomfortable because he's restrained. He doesn't show any excitement except in the corners of his eyes and he's very careful to sit still. His napkin falls off his lap repeatedly, and every time it does, he glares at it as if it's betrayed him. When he bends down to pick it up, he tries not to bend his body, as if that might count as too much movement. Soon he's engaged in an all-out secret battle with the napkin that culminates in a covert stabbing with his fork.
Then there's Dad. I know Dad's uncomfortable because he doesn't speak. He limits himself to nods of encouragement or censure and keeps his posture perfect. This means he has to stifle his desire to correct Curt's posture, which is not perfect. Consequently, his grip on his knife tightens until his fingers turn completely white.
And of course, there's Dayle. I know Dayle's uncomfortable because ... well, I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't seen him dish the roast beef, but as soon as he lifts the serving fork I know. He takes
one portion instead of five even though he's desperate to gain weight, and he never once looks at Curt as he passes the tray.
Curt, however, takes five helpings, then puts half of it back. Then he retakes half of the half he just put back.
Dad takes a deep breath as the scene repeats itself with the mashed
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