Dialogue Isn’t What They Say—It’s What They Do
Designing Speech that Wounds, Wins, and Withholds
Words As Weapons
Dialogue isn’t how characters talk. It’s how they fight. How they flirt, manipulate, and hide. It’s where the story lives in real time. On the page, dialogue is not small talk or filler—it’s conflict, made audible.
Robert McKee puts it bluntly: dialogue is action. Every line is a move in a game of power. Your characters may be sipping tea or sharing memories, but beneath the surface, they’re always trying to get something. That "something" is the key to designing dialogue that matters.
What Is Dialogue? And What Is Exposition?
Dialogue is any language a character uses—to another character, to themselves, or to the audience—in pursuit of a goal. It's speech as strategy. Dialogue is not mere conversation, it’s an action a character takes to get what they want.
Exposition is background information. It includes the who, what, where, when, and why of a story—often past events, context, or relationships. While necessary, exposition is best delivered in ways that heighten conflict and tension, not flatten it.
Well designed dialogue is the superior way to deliver exposition.
Dialogue Is Action, Not Conversation
In fiction, dialogue is never idle. It isn’t transcription of real speech—which is messy, aimless, and redundant. It’s strategic. Each line carries intent. Think of Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice: his proposal is not a declaration of love but an action, aimed at securing Elizabeth’s consent. But his arrogance sabotages his goal, and Elizabeth’s rejection becomes a counteraction that redefines their dynamic.
Or take Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. Jules and Vincent talk about burgers, but really they’re reasserting control, testing each other, establishing worldview. What seems like banter is sharp with tension. Every word moves the power needle.
If your dialogue doesn’t do something, grasp for something, or change something—cut it.
Dialogue Is Conflict
Elizabeth Bowen said it best: “Dialogue is what characters do to each other.” That’s the key. Characters aren’t exchanging information. They’re wrestling. Dialogue is where their desires collide.
The Three Types of Dialogue
1. Dramatized Dialogue occurs in real time between characters, where each line is an action that changes the scene.
Example: In The Great Gatsby, Tom confronts Gatsby in front of Daisy:
"I suppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere make love to your wife."
Tom is not just revealing Gatsby’s origins; he is attacking, asserting dominance, and trying to win Daisy back.
2. Monologue is internal speech directed to oneself, often used at pivotal moments to reveal internal conflict or transformation.
Example: In Breaking Bad, Walter White says:
"I am not in danger, Skyler. I am the danger. A guy opens his door and gets shot and you think that of me? No. I am the one who knocks!"
This is Walter confronting himself as much as his wife—a character redefining who he is.
3. Narratized Dialogue is dialogue relayed through narration rather than direct speech, often summarizing events or conversations across time.
Example: In To Kill a Mockingbird, Scout narrates:
"Atticus said Jem was trying hard to forget something, but what he was really doing was coming to terms with things."
The line captures conversation and insight in summary, allowing time to move quickly while keeping emotional tension intact.
Subtext and the Unsaid
The most dangerous thing in dialogue? Clarity.
Real people rarely say what they mean. Neither should your characters. Great dialogue happens between the lines. Hemingway’s Hills Like White Elephants is a masterclass—the couple talks about drinks and scenery, but the real topic is abortion. The tension lives in the silences.
There are three layers:
The said: what’s spoken aloud.
The unsaid: what’s thought but withheld (monologue).
The unsayable: what’s buried even from the character.
Tony Soprano steals and kills to gain power, but his panic attacks say otherwise. His unsayable truth? He craves love, and knows his power endangers it. The show lives in that contradiction.
Exposition as Ammunition
McKee warns: never deliver exposition plainly. It should be a weapon.
In The Great Gatsby, Tom Buchanan exposes Gatsby’s past not to inform Daisy, but to humiliate Gatsby. The information serves the conflict. Strip that aggression, and the scene dies. Your reader should feel the tension, not the info dump.
Try this: rewrite an exposition-heavy scene by embedding the backstory inside an argument. Make it hurt.
Every Word Counts
Dialogue thrives on economy. Think Breaking Bad:
"I am the one who knocks."
Six words. Total character arc. Walter White has been Torqued into Heisenberg.
Each character must also speak with a distinct voice. Not just in word choice, but rhythm, tone, confidence. If you can remove dialogue tags and still know who’s speaking, you’re doing it right.
Dialogue as Your Sharpest Tool
Dialogue is your scalpel. It cuts through exposition, carves character, and reveals the unspeakable. It drives the story because it is the story.
Don’t write what your characters say. Write what they do with their words.
