The Born StorytellersPrendiville Catholic College

2015

The Born StorytellersWriting Scenes and Dialogue

Key decisions

What is the Point of View of the narration?

What is the narrative voice of the story?

Who acts as narrator for the reader?

Point of View

Subjective

Intimate

Distant

Objective

Relationship between character and reader

Subjective

Intimate

Distant

Objective

Relationship between character and reader

Point of View

Third Person

Objective

Subjective

Intimate

Distant

Objective

Relationship between character and reader

Point of View

Third Person

Objective

Third Person

Omniscient

Subjective

Intimate

Distant

Objective

Relationship between character and reader

Point of View

First Person

Third Person

Objective

Third Person

Omniscient

Subjective

Intimate

Distant

Objective

Relationship between character and reader

Point of View

First Person

Third Person

Objective

Third Person

Omniscient

Third Person

ObjectiveModified

Subjective

Intimate

Distant

Objective

Relationship between character and reader

Point of View

First Person

Third Person

Objective

Third PersonLimited

Omniscient

Third Person

Omniscient

Third Person

ObjectiveModified

Finding the Narrative voice

Choose a narrative character (limited third person or

first person), or a number of characters (limited or

omniscient third person) and allow yourself as author

to inhabit those characters, along with their attitudes

and beliefs and give effective voice to them.

More on Narrative voice

Choose the character(s) from whose position

you can best describe the full details of the

action and the most effective tone.

This is the character who is best positioned

to tell the story.

What is a scene?

What is a scene?Three modes of writing:

Dramatic narrative(often called narrative summary or exposition)

Scene

Half-scene

What is a scene?

The scene is the building block of story. It must contain a sense of

‘staging’ . . . setting, atmosphere, mood, entrance

and exit or transition to the next scene

What is a scene?

A scene has the same shape as a story . . . It must begin at a low point of tension, rise to a point of climax and resolve

The exposition

A narrative summary or scene at the beginning of the story

setting up the story situation . . .

The exposition

1. Introduce the character

2. Establish a setting (orientate the reader)

3. Establish reader identification by

plunging the character into an emotion-

provoking situation

The exposition – dramatic narrative or summary

If Sameer Salamand looked out from the window of her room in the penthouse

apartment she shared with her father , directly before her would be the city of Perth, a

jungle of concrete and steel and glass, doubled in its shimmering flection from the

tranquil waters of the Swan River far below. Twenty kilometres to the west, Rottnest

Island sits clearly in its blue custard, an early-spring flotilla of pleasure craft carving

lines of white foam like the fine tendrils of a spider web from the harbours of Fremantle

and Sorrento. And to the east, the ridge line of the Darling Range shrouded beneath the

crusty grey hangover of expunged bushfires appears as though at eye height.

But, while she towered above, Sameer Salamand wasn’t looking out her

window.

On this fine summer morning—a Tuesday—she should have been at school. And

in her own way she was. But not the way her father wanted. He wanted her to be at a

school where, at least according to their marketing literature, they produce ladies who

will define the future: train the leaders of tomorrow. To her, though, it was full of girls

who all

felt sure they had a birthright—an entitlement to be pampered into believing

they would be the leaders of tomorrow. And sure, many will be the lawyers and

accountants and marketing executives and economists who will think they are

the leaders. They will all—perhaps mostly all—score good jobs with the big

corporates, some will even work at the same firms as their. Their successes, and

let’s face it there will be many, will all be measured in how much they earn and

how far up the power ladder their husbands will be. They will be the WAGS and

the glamourites of the social pages. Sameer knows this because, for the best

part of the few days she has attended Western Australia’s most expensive, most

exclusive, most self-serving school, she has been told by one or another of the

students she was classed with that this would be so, that such was the aspiration

of each of the forty-or-so thousand dollars a year educations being bought.

Well, not for her. No thank you.

Sameer Salamand had other ideas. Sure, she handed in her assignments,

she scored high marks—in fact, she consistently outperformed all of the other

girls in her classes. According to her first semester report, she would probably be

the Year Ten student of the year. If only she would show up once in a while.

The half-scene

The half-scene is a dramatic narrative

interrupted, blended with parts of a scene.

The half-scene

It started back when Sameer was in year-seven and she began spending time in a

virtual-life game that, at the time, Uncle Neville was leading a team upgrading much

of the virtual world’s concept art. She helped test visual concepts along the way for

him, and about the time she turned twelve, she created her own identity. She was

known as Imlac and was born to a a single mother of the Uto clan, in a village called

Saka Sahata. When you sign up to Dryopsus you do not know whether you will be born

into the Uto or Dysto, nor do you know the family you will be born into, or the

circumstances of the life you will inherit. Imlac’s entire pre-teen childhood passed in a

single year and she now attended the the Institue of Learning, where one day passes

much as the previous, and much as the next will. In this college, the student does not

so much study the theories of the greats, she studies with the greats.

Aristotle, the great philosopher accompanied her her along the Peribolos, the

temple of Triptolemos rose above them on their right; they had been walking for

several minutes; this was the third turn, each turn representing a different dialectic.

She pointed

forward at the distant horizon, where the great range separated the lands of the

Utos from the Dystos, and she said, ‘Great Master, you say the the poet must depict

the men in his poem as being better or worse than real life. Is it not like imitating the

difference between what lies beyond the mountains and what lies before them?’

‘Do you know what lies beyond?’

‘I cannot say. I am here on this path and I can see good men and women

making a better world . . . men and women learning and building and leaving no one

in hunger or need. Is not this enough for depicting men, how can we depict them to

be better than this?’

‘When you turn at the end of this pass,’ Aristotle said, ‘you will consider how

it is that we can make men appear worse than they are.’

‘But I do not know better or worse.’

‘Exactly. If you do not know what something is not, you cannot possible know

what it is. So you must examine what it is not.’

Imlac watched the great philosopher walk away into the temple and she

stared at a pall of smoke rising from beyond the great range. A shiver passed

through her body as she returned along the Peribolos and a shadow formed behind

her, out of her view.

She came out of the game an hour later and called Uncle Neville. He

heard the concern in her voice before she explained the circumstances, but

he listened patiently and asked her to wait while he used a back door into the

system. What he found concerned him more than it should have, and within

minutes he was sitting in Sameer’s room. He took her back to the times she

was helping him test the landscapes and reminded her of the tunnel systems

he’d built so he could move easily between Dysto and Uto lands. There was a

grave danger, he explained as calmly as he could, that someone else has

discovered those tunnels. In short, her character was under viral attack and

they must put Imlac into suspense to ward off the attack, unmask the

attacker and destroy who ever it was.

It would take all night.

The dramatic scene

The scene presents actions as they happen,

it begins at a low point of tensions, rises to a

climax and resolves in a transition to the

next scene. Sometimes it is better to cut

right into the middle of the scene.

The dramatic scene

Sameer sat in an interview room at the Kensington police station. She had

been waiting for about three quarters of an hour by her reckoning, but

because they’d removed all of her belongings before bringing her into the

room, she had no way of really knowing. There’d been no contact, no offer of

a drink, just silence. A stocky man in jeans and a loose fitting tee shirt and

short trimmed brown hair came in and closed the door behind him. He carried

a file of papers which he put on the desk and he sat with an elegant ease,

opened the file and thumbed his way through the top sheets.

He gave a half smile as his clear green eyes met hers. ‘My name’s

Detective Graham Darcy. It says here, you’re Sameer Slamand?’

She broke the long silence that followed, and immediately knew it to

be a mistake. The first to talk is at the disadvantage. ‘Are you expecting a

response, Detective? Because that’s a statement, not a question.’

‘It’s asked as question. I want you to confirm what’s written on

PC Wilson’s arrest report.

Sameer: I don’t know what’s on her report, Detective, I can’t confirm what

I don’t know.

Darcy: I just told you. It says your name is Sameer Salamand. Can

you confirm that that is in fact your name?

Sameer: I can confirm it, Detective.

Darcy: Do you have any ID?

Sameer: No, sorry.

Darcy: And your address is 123 Palmerston Street, Mosman Park. Is

that correct?

Sameer: Yes.

Darcy: What were you doing at the back of the shopping centre tonight?

Sameer: Preventing a crime.

Darcy: Oh really? Like what … ?

Sameer: Three guys were about to break into the pharmacy through the roof.

I stopped them.

Darcy: What three guys?

Sameer: They didn’t stick around long enough for me to get their names.

Darcy: Can you described them? Like how old, hair, eyes, height … that sort

of thing?

Sameer: Yeah sure. One was about 158 centimetres, probably around

eighty five kilos, lanky, early twenties I reckon. He’s got a broken

nose. Another a bit older, I reckon … he’s limping pretty bad, shorter than the

other bloke, shaved head with a tattoo on the left side of his neck. I didn’t

really get to see the third one, he bolted.

arrest report.’

Sameer sat forward in her chair and looked across the table as she pushed

her hair away from her eyes. He was good looking, this detective and there

was something about him that made her curious. He needs to be tested. She

said, ‘I don’t know what’s in her report, Detective. I can’t confirm what I don’t

know—but, shouldn’t we have a woman in here anyway? Me being a girl and

all. And . . . not only that, shouldn’t there be a guardian or something? I am

only fifteen years old.’

Darcy looked at her, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, close

to a grin. ‘Let’s just get a few things sorted out fist, shall we. Can you confirm

that Sameer Salamand is in fact your name?’

‘I can confirm it, Detective.’

‘Do you have any ID?’

‘No, sorry. You have my phone, I’m sure you can confirm my identity

from that.’

‘You could have stolen the phone. What about a student card?’

She gave a short laugh. ‘Student card?... You’re kidding, right?’

Darcy: And your address is 123 Palmerston Street, Mosman Park. Is

that correct?

Sameer: Yes.

Darcy: What were you doing at the back of the shopping centre tonight?

Sameer: Preventing a crime.

Darcy: Oh really? Like what … ?

Sameer: Three guys were about to break into the pharmacy through the roof.

I stopped them.

Darcy: What three guys?

Sameer: They didn’t stick around long enough for me to get their names.

Darcy: Can you described them? Like how old, hair, eyes, height … that sort

of thing?

Sameer: Yeah sure. One was about 158 centimetres, probably around

eighty five kilos, lanky, early twenties I reckon. He’s got a broken

nose. Another a bit older, I reckon … he’s limping pretty bad, shorter than the

other bloke, shaved head with a tattoo on the left side of his neck. I didn’t

really get to see the third one, he bolted.

Darcy smiled and flipped a page in the file before him. ‘So. You’re

Sameer Salamand and you live at level thirty-six, South Shore Towers in

South Perth—’

‘Actually I live at level thirty seven. Level thirty-six is where my uncle

lives.’

Darcy flipped another page. ‘Okay, how many levels in that tower?’

‘Thirty eight. My dad and I have the top two floors, my uncle and his

partner live on the floor below.’

Darcy gave a low whistle. His eyes bore into her. ‘Are you aware that

the Department for Child Services has an application before the courts to

have you placed into care?’

For a moment Sameer was speechless. And when she spoke, all she

could manage was, ‘A what?. . . Who?...’ She looked down at the table and

studied her fingers. There were tears in her eyes as she looked back up at the

detective. ‘I want to see my uncle. You need to call him.’

Darcy closed the file before him and pushed his chair back. ‘He’s

already here, Sameer. He was the one who called us to the scene.’

Writing effective dialogue

Good dialogue needs:

Characters in conflict

Fresh, challenging attitudes

Indirect language

Clever, colourful lines

‘Said’ is not dead

The speech attribution tag is how we know who

speaks. However, do not try to reinvent ‘said’.

There are times when an alternative can work

better, but there are also times when a speech

tag is not required at all.

Please read technical issues for writing dialogue

Dynamic prose

Be specific

Appeal to all the senses

Be poetic

Useful poetic devices as figures of speech

Personification—giving human qualities to inanimate objects. ‘My car hates me.’Hyperbole—exaggeration. ‘My car has the roar of a helitac.’Metaphor—an implied comparison of one thing to another. ‘My car tortured the bitumen.’Simile—direct comparison using as, or like. ‘My car was like a submarine.’

Useful poetic devices as figures of speech

Also used repetition, alliteration, internal rhymes . . . to add emphasis and draw attention to parts of the passage.