I'm a novelist and a creative writing tutor. By my books, I'll be signing books at 3.30 in the book tent, and I'm going to share some hints today for aspiring novelists that are any here. That's a bit depressing. I'm going to share them anyway. I'll think that good dialogue in a novel is realistic, like real speech, but it isn't. Good dialogue is convincing. It convinces the reader that it's realistic. Dialogue on the page isn't like real speech, because if you were to maybe go to a coffee bar and record yourselves talking amongst your friends and then try to write a transcript of it afterwards, you'd soon find that it was full of fragments and repetitions and interruptions, and if you just stuck that into your novel, it simply wouldn't work. So I'm going to give you five hints on how to avoid writing crap dialogue. First of all, use the word said. But said is dead. This is what my students say to me, because they were taught it at primary school. Don't you said, branch out, expand your vocabulary. And if you go on the internet, you'll find there are a whole list ready made for you. And here are the G words. Grunt, oh sorry, gasped, grumbled, grumbled, grunted, guest, gurgled and gushed. In my view said is not dead. Please use said, she said, because said fades into the background. It's like the paint on art gallery walls. You want people to look at the Mona Lisa, not at your fancy wallpaper. And so you want your character, your reader to focus on what the characters are saying, and not to get distracted by your amazing and exciting vocabulary, your wild words, those of you who had teachers and had to pass that on to your little ones. So my advice is to use said most of the time, and to say that when you do use a synonym for said, it will have much more impact. Point number two, avoid adverbs. An adverb, as you know, is a word that describes a doing word. She explained patronizingly. And if you've done your job well as a writer, you shouldn't really need to explain to your reader how the character just said something. I hate you, get out of my house, yelled, Janet angrily. Well, she wouldn't have been hinting, would she? Darling, you look gorgeous tonight in the moonlight, he murmured romantically. So ration yourselves so that when you do drop in that one rare and perfectly chosen adverb, it will really earn its place on the page. Point number three, don't be boring. Now that probably sounds obvious, but I've marked rather a lot of waffly dialogue in my time, and it's often riddled with cliches. So don't use off-the-shelf descriptions, and please don't ask your reader to wage through dreary long conversations about whether your characters want to your coffee. Be ruthless, cut, cut, and cut again. Ask yourself, what is this bit of dialogue actually doing in my book? Does it reveal character? Does it impart crucial information? Does it help set the scene or advance the plot? And if the answer is well known, or really, then I suggest you delete it. Unless it's very funny, because dialogue can be used to great calming effect, but less is more. So ask yourself as a rule of thumb, how much of this can I lose rather than how much can I hang on to? But what should you cut out of dialogue? I suggest that you try cutting out any gestures and actions that clutter it up and slow the pace. I'm going to do an example now of how to do it properly. Not by me, I think many of you will recognise the author. Jeaves, I called. Sir, said Jeaves, manifesting himself. Jeaves are remarkably rummy, things has happened. Mr Glossop has been here, and he tells me that it's all off between him and Miss Paul and John. Yes, sir. You don't seem surprised. No, sir. I confess, I had anticipated some such eventuality. So there we are. Jeaves and Worcester. And the stage directions are kept to an absolute minimum you will have noticed, but we still know who's talking. And there's only just that one very apt phrase, said Jeaves manifesting himself. And I'm inclined to pinch that. It's so good. It is very easy to clutter up PG woodhouses, brilliant pros by piling in lots of redundant cliches. I'll give you an example of what I mean. Golden sunlight streamed peacefully through the ancient window, giving the room in my ancestral home a quiet and peaceful air. Jeaves, I called out loud in an audible voice so that he would hear me and enter the room. Sir, uttered Jeaves, my butler, addressing me formally in polite tones and coming into the room where I was. Jeaves I muttered, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from a my immaculate dinner jacket sleeve. A remarkably rummy thing has just happened. Mr Glossop has been here. He tells me that it's all off between him and Miss Belinger. I explained to him in a calm voice that had a telltale tremor in it, owing to my inner disquiet, which surged in my stomach like a wave on the rest of the sea. Yes, sir, he affirmed nodding his head wisely in agreement and smoothing his hair in a practice gesture whilst looking at me with a steady glance of his piercing, emerald, green eyes and so on. Don't do it. Think twice about using dialogue to get information across. Don't parade your research. Here's an example. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer a longbow to a crossbow, William said, although the crossbow was really the first handheld weapon that could be used by an untrained soldier to injure or kill a knight in plate armour. The most powerful crossbows can penetrate armour and kill it 200 yards. Agreed, said Cedric, but they are much less efficient because the drawlinks and the laugh is so much shorter. Finally, root your dialogue in strong characterisation. The only way to do this is by living with your imaginary friends for days and months and years. So daydream, imagine imaginary conversations, but if you do this on a train, people might think you're a dangerous lunatic, but that's fine. It's a bit like wearing a dog collar. You'll get a seat or to yourself. And do I keep all these rules faithfully myself? Of course not. She's snorted. Contemptious. Thank you very much.