John Hughes and Dialogue

I’ve recently been doing a lot of dialogue work. In other words, I’ve not written much recently.  Because I, like many, find authentic, interesting dialogue difficult to write.

But good dialogue is essential to a good story.  Dialogue can advance plot, reveal character, or simply make a scene pop.

When I’m stuck, I try a number of things.

For one (by suggestion of a faculty member at Hamline), I look for words in the news, on a random page in the dictionary, on a bus or truck driving by on the street—interesting words, unique words, words I wouldn’t necessarily think of using in my story—then force myself to add them to a scene.  Play around. See what happens. 

I also turn to John Hughes—specifically his teen canon of the 1980’s—Sixteen Candles, Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and Some Kind of Wonderful.

Hughes once said, “I always liked character stories best—put two or more people in a room and get them talking—that’s the whole reason I got into this in the first place.”

And his films are just that—interesting, authentic teens talking.  And often the pairings are unexpected—the hot girl and the geeky guy, the popular jock and the nerd, the dangerous guy and the quiet girl. Hughes forces these high school stereotypes into a room together and lets them loose, writing first, asking questions (and revising) later.

As a result, he's given us some of the most enjoyable teen films ever made.  Sure, the clothing, hairstyles, and music are dated, but the dialogue still feels fresh, original.

In addition to putting people in situations they wouldn't normally be in (with people they wouldn't normally be with) to get a conversation going, Hughes avoids slang and other language that falls flat. You won’t find a lot of gnarleys or awesomes or wickeds in his work.  There are some, sure. And certainly it’s sometimes appropriate to use slang to represent a particular time period or place or connect with a specific audience. Or just for fun. But Hughes doesn't overuse it—and neither should we. Mostly Hughes uses unique turns of phrase, making his stories memorable, highly quotable, and ultimately timeless. 

So I watch his films not to get specific ideas for dialogue but for inspiration on how to craft speech that is interesting and fresh—dialogue that will bring deeper understanding of  characters and their situations. In short, I want to write dialogue that will make a story pop.

Nearly two years after his death, and decades since he made his most influential films, Hughes is still an inspiration for his unique and honest portrayals of youth. And he built his best stories on characters and their words. 

Favorite quotes:

 “You killed the car.”

“You’re not dying—you just can’t think of anything better to do.”

"Only the meek get pinched. The bold survive."

“A: You can never go too far. B: If I'm gonna get busted, it is not gonna be by a guy like that.”

"We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all."

"Andie, hon. Listen, it's after 7:00. Don't waste good lip gloss."

“His name is Blane? Oh! That's a major appliance, that's not a name!”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself! It’s bad for your complexion!”

 “I’d rather have you not see me and like me than see me and hate me. ‘Cause I can’t afford to have you hate me, Keith!!!”

“You break his heart, I break your face.”

Featured Book: Rats Saw God

Steve York is the son of an astronaut. A famous astronaut who rubs elbows with former presidents and military Who’s Who. An astronaut who, Steve feels, treats his son as a trophy, someone to be displayed, someone to impress others with. Steve now lives with his mom and sister in San Diego. But for two years, he lived with the astronaut in Houston.

In Rats Saw God by Rob Thomas, Steve tells two stories simultaneously (or perhaps alternately is more accurate). We witness the action in his current life, in which he’s become a pot-smoking senior in San Diego who’s barely passing his classes (but somehow manages to be a National Merit finalist). And, from a 100-page essay he writes to get credit for English and graduate on time, he tells us about his sophomore and junior years of high school in Houston where he’s a straight-A student with a great group of friends and a fantastic girlfriend.

Rats Saw God by Rob Thomas
Simon & Schuster, 1996
Cover art by Chris Raschka

Steve’s voice is strong, narration tight (if unreliable). The dialogue is interesting, clever. Characters rich. And I love the parallel structure of the story, the way Steve’s present and past lives unfold together, so that we (and he) can see where he’s been, how he got there. And, most importantly, we realize Steve’s flaws, just as he does. His attitudes change, as ours do. By the end of the story, both the reader and Steve see the world a bit differently, see Steve’s parents differently. Especially Steve’s Dad.

And both narratives manage to be compelling without being gimmicky. The structure serves the story, not the other way around. Steve’s transformation is earned. We feel his pain and his anger at the lowest point of his high school life, but we also share in his redemption (which is much subtler than I’m probably making it sound).

The relationships between characters are also well defined and understood. Thomas shows us, in action and dialogue, how the characters feel about one another. And here’s what I mean about the unreliable narrator: Early in the novel (both in real time and in Steve’s 100-page essay), Steve tells us how he feels about the astronaut (the name he uses for his father). We then see the astronaut through that lens throughout the novel. After a critical conversation between Steve and his sister (as well as some insight Steve gains from writing his essay), Steve (and we) see the astronaut in a new light.

Steve’s friendships (and girlfriendships) are complicated and fascinating, from his membership (or, non-membership membership) in GOD (Grace Order of Dadaists) and friendship with group leader Doug, to his more intimate relationship with Dub. Then there’s Sky, the really cool supportive teacher who all of the non-conformist kids love. Sky was really the only character from the novel that really bothered me. His story arch seemed a little obvious (the only inorganic feeling part of the novel). That said, the result of his story arch is still gripping, emotionally devastating, and crucial to the novel.

This novel was published in the mid-1990s, but (despite some dated references to the Seattle grunge scene), it holds up. Rob Thomas later made a move to television, writing first for Dawson’s Creek then creating and producing Veronica Mars. His talent for dialogue and insight into the complexity of teenage life continue to make his work relevant to teens.

Recommended for boys, ages 15-18.