We all want to write fast-paced, energy-packed dialogue, but like everything else related to being a novelist, what looks the most effortless from the outside is actually the most challenging.
The magic of sizzling dialogue lies in what’s not said—an invisible tension beneath the words. Omission, misdirection, and precision make otherwise mundane conversations come alive.
The goal is dialogue that feels realistic, only better. The challenge lies in what to leave in—and what to leave out. When you omit the obvious and refuse the straightforward, you make space for depth. When every line carries weight, the dialogue pulses with life and truth.
The art of omission
By cutting unnecessary elements, you create space for the dialogue to reveal character, move the story forward, and build tension. One tool I use is the following Eliminate List. It’s simple and effective. Eliminate…
- Names, nicknames, and pet names
- Nonsense words (e.g., um, uh, and hmm)
- Filler words (e.g., well, you know, anyway, and like)
- Greetings and pleasantries
- Direct answers (yes, no, maybe)
- Repeated sentiments (e.g., “No, I don’t think so.”)
- Unnecessary dialogue tags
- Adverbs in dialogue tags
- Telling through dialogue
- Predictable responses
The most revealing conversations in fiction are the leanest, leaving room for that electricity we’re looking for. Consider this example from Harlan Coben’s Gone for Good.
The setup: Squares has just picked up the main character the day after his mother’s funeral, and they’re driving to work. In this early scene, the reader knows little about the characters. For brevity, some action beats have been removed.
“Thanks for sending the flowers… And for showing up.”
“Sunny was great people,” [Squares] said.
“Yeah.”
…“But what a shi**y turnout.”
“Thanks for pointing that out.”
“I mean…how many people were there?”
“You’re quite the comfort, Squares. Thanks, man.”
“You want comfort? Know this: People are a**holes.”
“Let me get out a pen and write that down.”
[A few moments of silence. Then Squares says] “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Uh, well, see, the other day? My mother died.”
“Fine,” he said, “don’t tell me.”
Note that Coben didn’t follow all of my rules, but the things he didn’t eliminate—the names, the nonsense words—add to the segment. Every line serves a purpose. You see no “hello, how are you, so sorry for your loss” predictability. He doesn’t waste time with fancy and unnecessary dialogue tags. Coben gets right to the heart of it, revealing a world of information about the main character, his relationship with his friend, and his current situation in just a few great lines.
The tension of misdirection
Misdirection is dialogue that moves like a magician’s hands, drawing attention one way while slipping meaning in elsewhere.
In her Writer Unboxed article “Bring Your Dialogue to Life,” Katherine Craft calls this emotional sleight of hand. She uses an example from Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.
A female character has offered to show her studio to the protagonist. After some internal debate, he agrees to go with her. Her studio also happens to be her bedroom, which adds to the scene’s tension.
She tells him a little about the house, then drops in this tidbit:
“That’s where the murder happened. What’s the matter with your finger?”
They go on to discuss his dislocated finger for two and a half pages before he thinks to ask about the murder.
But the reader hasn’t forgotten, and that little bit of misdirection brings tension to what could otherwise be a dull exchange. (The author is masterful, though. There’s nothing dull about it.) They’re chatting about a minor injury, and the reader’s thinking … a murder? What murder?
In real life, people rarely say exactly what they mean. They dodge. They hedge. They distract. They circle the truth until someone blurts it out—or changes the subject.
One way to keep readers’ interest is to pose questions but hold off answering them. This can be done at the macro level: Who murdered the neighbor? How will the heroine secure that promotion? How will the hero win the prize?
But questions can be posed at the micro level too, as Chabon demonstrated above. When you add those micro tensions to your dialogue, you give readers one more reason to keep turning the pages.
The power of precision
There’s a final element to excellent dialogue—precision, dialogue that’s not only lean and layered with misdirection but also packed with purpose. Nobody does this better than Aaron Sorkin.
The West Wing has some of the greatest TV dialogue ever written. Because many of Sorkin’s characters communicate extensively and effectively in their jobs—as politicians tend to do—they’re quick-witted and exacting with their words. Other characters, whose jobs keep them behind the scenes—like the chief of staff, for instance—tend to say less with more words, sometimes talking themselves into holes.
Because the dialog is so precise, it never feels overwritten. Consider these examples:
JOSH: We don’t need martyrs right now. We need heroes.
DONNA: You think they’re different?
JOSH: Heroes walk into the fire. Martyrs get pushed.
SAM: Is it possible for Peter Lillianfield to be a bigger jackass? You think if he tried hard, there’s room for him to be a slightly bigger horse’s ass than he’s being right now?
CJ: At some point you hit your head on the ceiling, don’t you?
SAM: I think there’s unexplored potential.
JOSH: An hour with you in a rare book store. Couldn’t you just drop me off the top of the Washington Monument instead?
BARTLET: It’s Christmas, Josh! No reason we can’t do both.
In each of these examples, Sorkin’s precision shines. He reveals character, moves the plot, and keeps the viewer engaged—all without wasting a word.
Making it work on the page
How do you move from functional dialogue to packed, purposeful exchanges? Here are some suggestions:
- Begin by eliminating everything that isn’t essential.
- Reframe direct answers to add intrigue. Go for misdirection or surprise.
- Make every phrase work harder. Your dialogue should reveal more about the characters, their motives, or the stakes. If a line has little story impact, aim to startle or amuse. As you edit, ask yourself: How can this line do more?
- Once you’ve rewritten, read it aloud. If you’ve eliminated too much, add back only what’s necessary. Consider cadence and rhythm, always aiming to delight your readers.
Final thought
Behind these strategies—elimination, misdirection, and precision—lies a fundamental truth about what makes dialogue compelling. Readers fall in love with dialogue that serves a purpose. They fall in love with dialogue that keeps them engaged. Mostly, they fall in love with dialogue not because it sounds real, but because it sounds true.
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Three-time nominee for ACFW’s Editor of the Year award, Robin Patchen is a USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of Christian romantic suspense. She started writing her first novel while homeschooling her three children. The novel was dreadful, but her passion for storytelling didn’t wane. Thankfully, as her children grew, so did her skill. Now that her kids are adults, she has more time to play with the lives of fictional heroes and heroines, wreaking havoc and working magic to give her characters happy endings.