Writing Dialogue: 9 Common Dialogue Mistakes (And How to Fix Them)

It’s one thing to speak to your friends and another to try to write dialogue on a page. Many authors find themselves falling victim to some common mistakes that make their dialogue feel unrealistic, clunky, or forced. Of course, there are exceptions to any rule, but the main point is to find a balance.

Let’s take a look at nine common mistakes when writing dialogue.

This is probably the number-one mistake I see when editing manuscripts.

Take a look at the following example.

“James, I see you got a haircut.”

“Yes, Mike, I tried the new barber on Main Street.”

“Did you like him, James?”

“Mike, he was okay, but I miss Chuck.”

Overuse of names can feel clunky and pull the reader out of the story. If you think about authentic conversations in real life, we rarely say each other’s names. This is because we have visual cues to let us know who is speaking and who they are speaking to. Because we lack these visual cues in our writing, many authors tend to overuse names when the reality is most instances of name usage in dialogue can and should be cut.

So, what do we do instead? Use anchors and dialogue tags!

Here’s that same example after a rewrite:

“I see you got a haircut,” Mike said.

“Yeah, I tried the new barber on Main Street.” James touched his hair and smiled.

“Did you like him?”

James shrugged. “He was okay, but I miss Chuck.”

Here we’ve made use of both dialogue tags and anchors rather than the characters having to repeatedly use each other’s names. Because there are only two characters in this scene, sometimes we were even able to skip it completely, so long as we checked in often enough with who was speaking to keep it clear.

When there are multiple characters in a scene, it can get a little more complicated. In a real face-to-face interaction, we use body language and tone to understand who is speaking, who it’s directed toward, and what emotions are tied to the words being said. In a book, we can write these as action beats (anchors) and narrative details to help the reader understand the full context of what is going on.

Check out this example involving multiple characters:

“There’s been an accident,” Lily said, hanging up her phone. “Tim is in the hospital!”

Maddie clutched her heart. “Oh my gosh!”

“Is he going to be okay?” Billy asked.

Tears fell from Lily’s cheeks as she shook her head. “I don’t know. I need to get to the hospital.”

Billy jangled his keys. “Come on, we’ll drive you.”

Notice that the only name mentioned within the dialogue is Tim, who is not present in the scene. The rest is understood from the context of dialogue tags and anchors.

That being said, the exception here is if you want to add emphasis for moments with strong emotion.

Like this:

Danny stole his little sister’s stuffed dog from her grasp and held it high above her head.

“Stop it, Danny! Give it back!”

When we are upset, shocked, excited, etc., there are instances where we will say the name of the person we are talking to for added emphasis, just don’t overdo it.


This usually occurs when the author is trying to catch the reader up with something they don’t know yet. But when the character should already know it, it can come off as awkward and forced or even condescending.

Example:

“Remember how we decided to go to lunch together once a month and we would take turns driving?” Sharon asked.

“Yes, I remember,” Dawn said.

“Well, it’s your turn to drive.”

I can practically see Dawn rolling her eyes here. She already knows thisshe was part of the original conversation and the last lunch, even if the reader wasn’t. Rather than using the “remember when” cheat, you can either explain this information in context to catch your reader up or add in a new character who wasn’t present for the original conversation.

Such as:

With her fuel tank less than a quarter full, Sharon was glad it was Dawn’s turn to pick her up for their monthly lunch date.

or

Sharon grabbed her wallet as she called over her shoulder to her husband. “Dawn will be here any minute to pick me up.”

Paul chuckled and shook his head. “Good thing it’s her turn. Didn’t you say your tank is on empty?”

In each of these rewrites, we can understand there was a previous conversation between Sharon and Dawn about trading off who drives each month for their lunch date, and we can see that it is currently Dawn’s turn, all while sparing Dawn from a repetition of information she already knows.


Lengthy blocks of one character speaking often correlate with the previous mistake, where the author is having a character explain something to catch the reader up. While Shakespeare loved a good soliloquy, a monologue in real life is a rare occurrence, except in a formal presentation. In a book, these can feel unrealistic, dull, and condescending.

Try not to fall asleep during this example:

“My favorite flower is the tulip. It blooms in the spring and comes in a large variety of colors—red, pink, yellow, white, or even orange. Most of them don’t have a scent, but some of them smell woody. Sometimes, their center can have a different color than the rest of the petals. Did you know tulips symbolize rebirth, new beginnings, and love? Traditionally, people gave them as a gift for eleventh wedding anniversaries. They’re even edible! You can use them instead of onions in recipes, and some people make wine out of them too.”

Who is speaking? Who are they speaking to? Where are they? What are they doing? Without any context, we don’t know the answers to these questions.

Yes, we all know someone who talks a lot. But even so, there are often interjections from those they are talking to, whether in the form of questions, exclamations, or simple acknowledgment that they are listening. We could also use action beats to break up lengthy blocks of speech.

In reality, we tend to speak in shorter sentences and perform actions as we speak, and we want to reflect that in our writing. You also want to consider whether every bit of the dialogue is vital to the larger story and only share what you need to. In the next example, we get a lot more information about the setting and characters in a much more entertaining manner while keeping things simple.

Compare the previous monologue to this conversation:

“I just love tulips!” Brittany said as they walked around the tulip festival.

“Me too!” Lori said as they passed by the pink tulips and headed toward the yellow ones. “They come in so many colors.”

“Did you know they symbolize new beginnings?” Brittany asked.

Lori shook her head. She didn’t know nearly as much about tulips as her friend did.

“You can also use them instead of onions when cooking,” Brittany added.

“Really?” Lori said, raising her eyebrows. “I’d like to try that sometime!”

Both in person and in our writing, we can sometimes overexplain unnecessary details. Ask yourself whether each sentence serves a purpose or progresses the plot. When you have narrowed it down to the vital bits of information, remember to make use of anchors in the narrative while also having other character’s contribute to the conversation. If you do have a lot of information you need to convey to the reader, consider whether a slow release of it over time would be useful for your book (Hint: This can contribute to suspense in the right circumstances).


Another common mistake I see while editing is when two characters are mentioned in the same paragraph involving dialogue. This can make it confusing as to who is speaking or performing the action.

Try to figure out what’s happening here:

A lowrider drove by, blasting music at full volume and forcing the girls to pause their conversation. Emma rolled her eyes. “Wow, that’s not annoying at all.” In agreement, Ashley scoffed as she reached for her latte. “If you’re going to have your music so loud, at least pick good music,” she shouted toward the car.

Who said what here? Did Emma say it all? Ashley? Or did they each say part of it?

Check out how much clearer this rewrite of the same example is:

A lowrider drove by, blasting music at full volume and forcing the girls to pause their conversation.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Wow, that’s not annoying at all.”

In agreement, Ashley scoffed and reached for her latte. “If you’re going to have your music so loud, at least pick good music,” she shouted toward the car.

The other end of the spectrum, you also don’t want to break into new paragraphs too much.

Like this example:

“Look at that!” Maggie pointed up at the sparkling night sky.

“I just saw a shooting star!”

Maggie is saying all of this, the topic remains on point, and no one else is interjecting in the form of action, thoughts, or words, so there’s no reason to have a paragraph break here. In fact, I bet most of you assumed a second character was saying the part about the shooting star, right?

Instead, it should look like this:

“Look at that!” Maggie pointed up at the sparkling night sky. “I just saw a shooting star!”

While one character can speak, think, and act all in the same paragraph (in fact, combining at least two of these things can eliminate the need for a dialogue tag), anytime you change between characters, breaking into a new paragraph will maintain clarity. But don’t make new paragraphs where they aren’t needed either—if it’s all one character’s words, thoughts, and actions and remains on topic, keep it grouped together.


Said bookisms are those fancy purple-prose (overly flowery) dialogue tags that seem exaggerated. Often, an author uses these to avoid the repetitive feel of he said/she said or to spice up their book. Unfortunately, this can quickly become a case of telling versus showing.

For example:

“Where have you been?” Josh hissed.

“I got caught in rush-hour traffic,” Scott lamented.

“Well, next time, leave earlier so you aren’t late!” Josh scolded.

If you are using words like lamented, intoned, croaked, explained, or hissed (just to name a few), you are using a said bookism. Occasional use of these fancier words is okay, but overusing this device can make for a tedious read and pull your reader out of the story—and isn’t that what you meant to avoid in the first place?

The traditional dialogue tag using the word “said” is so common that it actually blurs into the background, informing the reader who is speaking without feeling repetitive . . . and making for the better option more often than not.

If we replace all the said bookisms in the example above with the word “said,” we are forced to add in action beats (anchors) in order to relay the emotion behind the moment, and in so doing, you are enhancing your writing by showing rather than telling.

Here is an example rewrite:

“Where have you been?” Josh asked, fists clenched.

Scott turned his palms upward in a gesture of helplessness. “I got caught in rush-hour traffic.”

Josh heaved a sigh. “Well, next time, leave earlier so you aren’t late!”

Here, we’ve switched to the more basic dialogue tags and action beats to allow the reader to visualize what each character is doing in that moment and to grasp the emotion behind their words.


Although I’m a big advocate for using simpler dialogue tags—he said/she said—there is such a thing as too many dialogue tags too. It becomes especially noticeable with shorter dialogue sentences or when placed in the same position in relation to the dialogue, causing a tedious feeling of repetition.

Example:

“I don’t care for tomatoes,” Steven said.

“I like tomatoes, but I don’t like onions,” Amanda said.

“The real problem is lettuce,” Anne said.

“You’re all crazy! It’s not a burger without all the goodies on it,” Frank said.

This is why many authors tend to roll into the overuse of said bookisms, as we discussed in the previous mistake. While you do need to clarify who is speaking, you can alternate between dialogue tags and anchors to break up the monotony. You can also put a dialogue tag in the middle of someone’s dialogue—it doesn’t always have to come at the end.

Here’s that same example, rewritten:

“I don’t care for tomatoes,” Steven said.

“I like tomatoes, but I don’t like onions.” Amanda wrinkled her nose.

Anne laughed. “The real problem is lettuce.”

“You’re all crazy!” Frank said. “It’s not a burger without all the goodies on it.”

Notice how that repetition has disappeared and the rhythm of the conversation flows much more naturally.


Dialogue can be difficult, and authors may be tempted from time to time to simply skip over it completely. Instead, they might summarize what the characters said in conversation or give a vague description of how the conversation went.

Like this:

As she walked along the path toward the first class of her college career, Dani’s breath caught when she noticed a familiar face from her hometown approaching from the opposite direction. After graduating high school, she never thought she’d see him again.

Stopping in front of her, Roy smiled. When he asked what she was doing there, instead of answering, she directed the same question back to him. Roy told her he was there for engineering and asked whether she was in the veterinary science program. Dani was shocked. She’d had a crush on him for over a decade, but it was never reciprocated—or so she thought. When she asked how he knew, he reminded her of the stray cat she’d bandaged up in the third grade.

Dani didn’t realize Roy had ever paid her much attention beyond the few minor interactions they’d had in school all those years, but now her heart fluttered in her chest as Roy gave her a wink. Did he care more for her than he let on?

While we do learn a lot here, the ambiguity from the lack of actual dialogue could easily pull the reader out of the story. They want to see what is happening in real time and feel like they are a part of the story, not outside of it.

Compare the narrative above to this rewrite that includes dialogue:

As she walked along the path toward the first class of her college career, Dani’s breath caught when she noticed a familiar face from her hometown approaching from the opposite direction.

Stopping in front of her, Roy smiled. “Hey, Dani! What are you doing here?”

Dani laughed. “I could ask you the same question.”

Shrugging, Roy said, “Davis has a great engineering program.”

“I didn’t know you were into engineering.”

“Well, at first, I just liked the idea of the paycheck, but as it turns out, I actually enjoy learning about the efficiency of servomotors.” Roy laughed at his own expense. “And you? You must be here for veterinary science?”

Dani’s eyes widened in surprise. Although she’d had a crush on him for over a decade, it was never reciprocated—or so she thought. So how did he know what she was majoring in? “How’d you know?” she asked.

“Ah, come on, Dani. Ever since third grade when you bandaged up that stray cat’s leg, I knew you’d make an amazing vet someday.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest as Roy gave her a wink. Did he care more for her than he let on?

Skipping dialogue is another example where show versus tell comes into play, and we’ll touch more on that in Mistake #9. For now, can you see how much richer this scene became when we included the actual conversation? Now we know more about Dani’s long-time crush on Roy and begin to wonder whether it’s mutual, we learn more about how they are connected from school, and we discover what brought each of them to the same college campus. In addition, this dialogue is developing both of these characters and establishing a history and potential romance.

There are always exceptions to any rule. In rare cases where it’s necessary to know the conversation took place but not the specific words said—when it’s mundane such as basic hellos and goodbyes or information the reader already knows—you might be able to get away with a summary in lieu of actual dialogue. But most of the time, skipping dialogue will hurt your story by distancing and excluding the reader. When in doubt, write it out. Your editor can help simplify where necessary.


The opposite can also occur, where authors get so carried away with dialogue that they neglect the anchors and narrative. This can cause it to feel like the characters are floating in space or like they are in a mystery setting the reader can’t envision.

Take a look at this example:

“Do you think someone stole it?” Jesse asked.

“Maybe, but the more important question is why?” Sophie said.

“Why, what?”

“Why break in only to take a book? Why wouldn’t they ransack the place and take something more valuable, like the diamond necklace sitting on the dresser?”

“There must be something we’re missing,” Jesse said.

Clearly, this is a thrilling moment in this book, so it’s easy to get caught up in what the characters are saying, but where exactly are they? Are they at the scene of the crime, talking on the phone, at the police station? And for that matter, are they detectives, the victims, or someone else entirely? Of course, the scene could have been set up prior to this dialogue, but even so, we will need some anchors throughout to keep the reader present in the scene the whole time.

Here’s a rewrite of the example from above:

“Do you think someone stole it?” Jesse asked as he scanned his friend’s messy apartment.

“Maybe, but the more important question is why?” Sophie said, running her fingers along her bookshelf to the empty spot.

Jesse scrunched his brows. “Why, what?”

“Why break in only to take a book? Why wouldn’t they ransack the place and take something more valuable, like the diamond necklace sitting on the dresser?” She motioned toward the sparkling stone that her dad had given her for college graduation.

Jesse furrowed his brows and nodded. “There must be something we’re missing.”

By adding more anchors, we can now understand a lot more about this scene and envision the characters in the setting, almost like we are standing there with them.


Showing means bringing the reader into the story. In narrative, it means letting the reader see, hear, smell, touch, or taste whatever the protagonist is experiencing. In dialogue, it typically means putting it on the page rather than summarizing a conversation in narrative form (refer back to Mistake #7).

Another way to fix this is by adding action beats. Think about how we often understand a person’s true meaning by their expression, tone, and body language. These subtle clues don’t always translate well on paper, so you will need to flex your skills with describing them for us in the form of anchors (action beats) and the protagonist’s inner thoughts.

Many authors rely heavily on adverbs for this reason (a word that modifies a verb and commonly ends in -ly), but these are yet another way of telling rather than showing.

Like in this example:

“Out of my way!” a man said rudely as he pushed past her.

“Hey!” Kate said forcefully.

“Are you okay?” Julia asked anxiously.

Some consider adverbs to be a way to cheat the system. But when you simply tell the reader he was rude rather than trying to describe it, you are cheating your reader of a deeper experience.

Instead of using adverbs, close your eyes and envision your characters in the scene. Flex your skills by describing the emotions and actions taking place.

Look at how much richer this scene is without the adverbs:

“Out of my way!” A man rushed by, shoving Kate in the process.

She stumbled forward and rubbed her arm, yelling after him, “Hey!”

“Are you okay?” Julia’s brows knit together in concern as she placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Once again, there are always exceptions to the rule. You don’t have to eliminate every adverb; just be cautious with overusing them when you could enhance the scene with more descriptive language instead.


Want to learn even more about dialogue? Check out these other Tips for Writers articles in the Writing Dialogue series:


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