The Power of Speech Attributions in Written Dialogue
Dialogue is one of the most powerful tools in the craft of writing. It’s also a source of anxiety for many emerging authors, and I realise that me saying that first thing doesn’t exactly help. But it actually boils down to a few fairly simple rules, a slight rethink about dialogue’s core purpose, and having a couple of authorial tricks up your sleeve to make it flow along the page.
Understanding speech attributions is one of those tricks.
It’s one of my favourites, too, so I want to share it far and wide. Let’s start by looking at what we actually mean when we talk about speech attribution in prose fiction.
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What is a speech attribution?
Simply put, a speech attribution is when you use an action (or other prose element, but it’s usually an action) to attribute the accompanying line of dialogue to the character that has acted. For example, instead of this:
“But that’s not the only thing that was missing,” John said, hands folded behind his back. “We couldn’t find her car keys either.”
You might have this:
“But that’s not the only thing that was missing.” John folded his hands behind his back. “We couldn’t find her car keys either.”
The attributive action — in this case, “John folded his hands behind his back” — is enclosed by isolated sentences of dialogue on either side. This tells the reader that all three elements — dialogue, action, dialogue — belong to John.
You don’t need to enclose the action with dialogue, either. It can just as easily go at the start or the beginning of an individual dialogue delivery, like this:
John folded his hands behind his back. “But that’s not the only thing that was missing. We couldn’t find her car keys either.”
Or this:
“But that’s not the only thing that was missing. We couldn’t find her car keys either.” John folded his hands behind his back.
In the second instance, I’d argue that the attributive action feels a bit disjointed at the end of the line, mostly because John folding his hands behind his back actively enhances how we read his dialogue. On the surface, it looks like a fairly insignificant beat — this is what John’s doing with a part of his body — but instinctively, it’s shaping how we read his posture, his stance, his attitude to the words he’s saying. There’s something slightly detached and clinical about this gesture; maybe performatively so. It suggests somebody who is trying to separate themselves from the emotional implications of what he’s saying, or to give the impression that this is what he’s doing. Placing this at the end of his dialogue run means that we’re not getting the information where we need it: where it can interact with, and impact how we read John’s words.
This is where speech attributions really come into their own.
Why are speech attributions so powerful?
So, apparently, humans read the word “said” almost like punctuation. And that’s great; it means that we’re able to sift almost effortlessly through prose and dialogue without even noticing we’re doing it — much the same way as we mentally pause when we see a full stop or a comma. But the fact that “said” vanishes into background noise means that it doesn’t get much of an opportunity to deliver much information beyond delineating speech.
Enter the attribution. A well-placed, considered attributive action can entirely change the meaning of the dialogue it attributes. Look at this, for example:
“I’m so sorry for your loss, William,” said Sarah. “Your wife was a wonderful woman.”
We have the following information: William has lost his wife. Sarah is expressing her condolences for that loss. Sarah’s stated position is that William’s late wife was a wonderful woman. We have no information about Sarah and William’s relationship to each other, nor about Sarah’s delivery, not about her demeanour. That makes it impossible to gauge any information about Sarah’s motivation for delivering this line. We can assume she’s expressing sympathy, but that’s based on societal convention and the statistical probability — with no evidence to the contrary — that Sarah’s speech is in line with how this phrasing is most often used.
But look at what changes when we add an attribution:
“I’m so sorry for your loss, William.” Sarah fought to hide her smirk. “Your wife was a wonderful woman.”
Sarah’s not looking so genuine anymore now, is she? Let’s thicken the plot a little with a little dash of reciprocation:
“I’m so sorry for your loss, William.” Sarah fought to hide her smirk and saw the edges of William’s lips twitch upwards as he clearly did the same. “Your wife was a wonderful woman.”
Or even:
“I’m so sorry for your loss, William.” Sarah twined her fingers through his; held them there a little too long. He did not pull away. “Your wife was a wonderful woman.”
But maybe I’m not being kind to Sarah. Maybe she’s genuinely devastated:
“I’m so sorry for your loss, William.” Sarah could hardly speak through her tears. “Your wife was a wonderful woman.”
And maybe it’s William who’s being disingenuous:
“I’m so sorry for your loss, William.” Sarah could hardly speak through her tears, her distress amplified by the sneer on his face. “Your wife was a wonderful woman.”
Sure, you could do all of this in addition to tagging the dialogue with “Sarah said” — but why would you want to? It reads so much more cleanly as a standalone action.
“While it’s possible for small, relatively inconsequential actions to layer important nuance onto a character’s words (see Sarah’s smirk, above), generally speaking, an attributive action’s superpower is in its ability to add core information.”
How to use attributive actions effectively
All things in moderation, as they say. Just as a page of “he said” and “she said” will become repetitive very quickly, attributive actions for the sake of having them end up padding your text rather than enhancing it. While it’s possible for small, relatively inconsequential actions to layer important nuance onto a character’s words (see Sarah’s smirk, above), generally speaking, an attributive action’s superpower is in its ability to add core information. Look at this, for example:
“Oh, that’s absolutely fantastic news!” Gemma smiled. “I couldn’t be more delighted for you both!”
If anything, Gemma’s smile takes away from the dialogue, because (a) it’s very much implied by the words she’s saying and (b) the words she’s saying actively imply her facial expression is much more animated than a simple smile suggests. Ideally, we’d like to offer up something that both supports the reader’s understanding of Gemma’s emotional profile in the moment, and adds new information — for example, a note of tension tempered with hope, like this:
“Oh, that’s absolutely fantastic news!” Without thinking, Gemma threw her arms around her sister, and felt Alice hesitate for only a second before hugging back. “I couldn’t be more delighted for you both.”
But equally, the attributive action can simply serve to inject a little energy into a scene:
“Oh, that’s absolutely fantastic news!” Gemma jumped to her feet, clapping her hands in delight. “I couldn’t be more delighted for you both.”
This can be especially useful if your scene has become dialogue- or exposition-heavy — a little action is an easy fix to animate the text. But it pays to be strategic. Look at this, for example:
“Oh, that’s absolutely fantastic news!” Gemma jumped to her feet, clapping her hands in delight. “I couldn’t be more delighted for you both.”
“Thanks, sis.” Alice’s fingers drummed a rhythm on the table. “I know it’s all a bit sudden…”
“Nonsense!” Gemma passed the plate of biscuits across the table. “Some things are just meant to be.”
“Thank you.” Alice accepted a chocolate Hobnob. “I hope you’re right.”
There’s nothing inherently wrong with repeating the “dialogue — attributive action — dialogue” format, but it starts to call attention to itself quite quickly. And that, in turn, disrupts the reader’s flow. Variety being the spice of life, and all that, a mixture of approaches tends to read more seamlessly, for example:
“Oh, that’s absolutely fantastic news!” Gemma jumped to her feet, clapping her hands in delight. “I couldn’t be more delighted for you both.”
Alice’s fingers drummed a rhythm on the table. “Thanks, sis. I know it’s all a bit sudden…”
“Nonsense!” said Gemma affectionately. “Some things are just meant to be.”
She passed the plate of biscuits across the table. Alice accepted a chocolate Hobnob.
“Thank you,” said her sister after a moment. “I hope you’re right.”
Finally, remember the golden rule of attributive actions: they only work if they’re on the same line as the dialogue they’re attributing. The reader might well be able to parse the connection through context, but this disrupts the flow, and it introduces the risk that they’ll attribute the dialogue to the wrong person. Take this, for example:
“But that’s not the only thing that was missing. We couldn’t find her car keys either.”
John folded his hands behind his back.
“It’s possible… I think we have to consider… that she might have come to harm.”
Who’s speaking each time? John? Once, or both times? If once, which line is his? Who else is present in the scene? None of this is available to the reader. But consider this instead:
John folded his hands behind his back. “But that’s not the only thing that was missing. We couldn’t find her car keys either.”
“It’s possible…” Henry paused; cleared his throat. His eyes did not leave the floor. “I think we have to consider… that she might have come to harm.”
Now it’s clearer: there are two speakers, John and Henry, and, while their attributive actions might not be grand gestures, I’d suggest they nevertheless reveal a great deal about each man’s emotional profile in this moment.
This is the power of the speech attribution.
Final thoughts: Amping up your dialogue with action
As with just about anything writing-related, speech attribution works best when used with intent. You don’t need to include revelatory information every time, but it should be working hard to deliver meaning to your reader, whatever the context. Even if that context is just to let the reader know that there’s a slight pause between one sentence and the next — there’s a huge difference in tone between:
“Okay, whatever.” He sighed. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
And:
“Okay, whatever.” He laughed humourlessly. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
And:
“Okay, whatever.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
How you use speech attributions, how you intersperse them with other forms of speech tagging (or no tagging at all), will depend on a multitude of factors, including your genre, your characters and their voices — and also your personal preference and your authorial voice. The important thing is to make it work for you. Which will probably take a bit of experimenting, fine-tuning, and exploratory writing… but that’s half the fun.
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