Opening a Dialogue with myself

Having spent the morning preparing a 10 pager on various business models for the team, it seemed like a good idea to take a break and write some non-technical work. I was torn initially between a blog post or one of the other "projects" I'm working on.

I hate that term though: one of my projects. It sounds like something a washed up 80s rocker says when leaving a band after 20 years in an attempt to stay current... 'We had a few disagreements creatively so I am moving on to resurrect some other projects". Cue a song reference or two (HMHB springs to mind off the top of the head). They aren't so much projects as ways of releasing my brain from thinking about work issues. Put brain in neutral, engage fingers, see where we end up. Be it with music, games, or writing. Just turn off that stream of consciousness (or on depending upon your view), and lets see where we get too.


Which is how, I now remember now why I don't write dialogue. Its hard and eventually it ends up coming out all wrong. Its a skill set that only some of the very best writes manage to make work. I believe that the likes of Pratchett, Ranking and Holt make it sound more realistic that the likes of King or Preston. Which is strange given the fact that humor doesn't always need the dialogue to move it along, whereas thrillers need it more to try and pick up the pace and fill in the details.

But as I said, when I write it, it comes out stale and uninteresting. Take the following exchange from the other day (cue wavy lines as we fade back a couple of days - they do it so much better in the movies than you can hope to in text):

There we were (myself and a co-worker type), sitting in a Burmese restaurant in San Francisco (on the corner of Bryant and some other street, just under the I-80 Freeway for those who like the exact details). Sitting. Waiting. Menus in hand. Already sure of what we wanted (lunch #3 again for those wanting details). In comes another group. They sit. They get menus. They order. Sitting. Waiting. In comes a 3rd group. They sit. They get menus. They order. Now am have the patience of Job most of the time (another HMHB reference - two in one post... oops).

But that did it. Off I went up to the counter.

"Is there any danger of us ordering?", I asked in a most passive aggressive manner. I like rhetorical questions.

Cue stunned look from PFY behind counter. "No" he said.

[Wavy lines back to present].

So there are a few things we can draw from this. Firstly, its a good story up until the dialogue starts, at least in my opinion. But it dissolves from there. It doesn't help that you, the reader, don't know that the 2 PFYs (Pimply Faced Youth) behind the counter (combined age maybe 32, 34 tops), have been moving at a pace that would make a snail ashamed. When an order came up to the window they managed to take it all a plate at a time to each table. Literally one plate at a time. Secondly the shear exertion that it took to get a response just isn't adequately portrayed. it was like watching the start of the next ice age in real time as the PFYBTC tried to answer a question that doesn't have one. You could see the thought processes ripple across his face, furrowing his brow in slow motion as he tried to work out if "yes" or "no" was the correct answer. Neither was working for him.

But I must say the food was good (try it if you are every in the area, but I would recommend the Thai on Brennan between 4th and 3rd if you are in that SOMA area - Koi Samui and The Monkey I believe). And we did get a 25% discount too for "the wait". So it wasn't all bad. Of course they did probably divest some mucous into the food at some point when we weren't looking.

Oh I don't want to think about that or go there.