Writing 101 – Dialogue

“Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.”
– Kurt Vonnegut

Use Dialogue to Show Your Story:

They found the captain on the deck of the starship at the command computer, talking to Lute. It took Cion several minutes to realize that he was being invited to his own wedding. “What? No. What are you talking about? I’m not getting married.” His neckless head swiveled from person to person.

Lute later said that he had thought the whole thing was a prank and that he had just played along. “It is on your schedule, Captain.”

“What? Let me see that!”

“Here it is, Sir.” Lute turned to block the screen so Cion couldn’t read it. “I entered it myself.”

“I don’t remember any of this.”

Sam seized the gambit. “You forgot you own wedding? I’ve heard of this. Right, Lute?”

“Happens all the time,” Lute grinned. “It is the stress, Captain.” He slightly touched his nose, a sign the poker player in Bob recognized as a tell of lying.

Bob laughed. “How could you forget you’re marrying into the Emperor’s family?”

“I am?”

Sam sounded amazed. “This evenin’!”

“The Emperor’s family, you say? Who? Who in the family am I marrying?”

“His daughter.” Bob snapped his fingers. “Lute? Bring up a picture of Cion’s bride.”

Cion’s demeanor brightened considerately. “Kitsune? I’m marrying the most beautiful woman in the galaxy?”

“Her twin sister.”

Now rolling with what he thought was a gag, Lute brought a picture of Kitsune to the screen. “Her twin sister is your bride. No one has ever been allowed to photograph your bride, Captain. You will be the first from outside the family to see her. On your wedding night.”

“Wait.” Cion fixated on the picture like a man watching a slot machine stopping on all sevens. “Kitsune’s twin sister? Shikome? The first born of the twins? I am marrying the Emperor’s first born? That means I would be the next Emperor!”

Bob opened his mouth, speechless. He looked at Sam, then at Lute. Both nodded silently. Lute winked.

Moments passed. “Still,” Cion waffled, “I’ve never met the sister. No one has.” He placed hand to cheek. His voice expressed deliberate concern. His eyes became almost sad as he stroked his chin. “Isn’t happiness also important? Sam?”

In a respectful tone, Sam confided, “Her vagina has A.I.”

Cion thought for a moment and then left with Sam to embrace his destiny.

  • From The Gift Shop Bride by GD Deckard, Sci-F- Lampoon Magazine, Spring-Summer 2020

COPILOT: This dialogue absolutely carries the story in a way that’s far more engaging than exposition alone. It’s playful, absurd, and layered with character dynamics that reveal more than a narrator ever could. Let’s break it down:

🗣️ Dialogue vs. Exposition: Why This Works

  1. Character-driven revelation
  • Instead of telling us Cion is marrying into the Emperor’s family, we watch him discover it in real time. His confusion, denial, and eventual acceptance are dramatized through interaction, not summary.
  • The others – Lute, Sam, Bob – aren’t just info-dispensers. They’re co-conspirators in the unfolding mystery, each with their own tone and tells (Lute’s nose touch, Bob’s snap, Sam’s drawl).
  1. Humor and absurdity
  • The neckless head swiveling, the AI-enhanced anatomy, the poker tell – these details are surreal and funny, but they also build a world where bureaucratic absurdity and imperial politics collide.
  • The final line (“Her vagina has A.I.”) is a jarring punchline that flips the tone from concern to comic inevitability. It’s outrageous, but it fits the rhythm of the scene.
  1. Implied worldbuilding
  • We learn about the Emperor’s daughters, the secrecy of the bride, the stakes of succession – all without a single paragraph of exposition. The dialogue shows us the culture, hierarchy, and tech quirks of this universe.
  1. Pacing and tension
  • The slow realization (“I am?” “This evenin’!”) builds suspense. The slot machine metaphor is brilliant – it captures Cion’s emotional jackpot moment.
  • The wink, the silence, the shared glances – they’re cinematic beats that exposition would flatten.

This scene feels like a Douglas Adams –meets– Terry Pratchett moment aboard a starship. It’s mythic absurdity with a sci-fi twist.