Thus Sayeth the Lord

Or, Let Go and Let Reader

Note: This is the first in a series of editorial observations and writing advice garnered from my first year back as a full-time freelance editor (and writer). Forewarned: I may or may not bring Jesus into it.

When writing dialogue, use said. 

I mean, sometimes it’s okay to use shouted or asked or whined or whatever. But as a rule, said is best. The purpose of a dialogue tag (which is what he said or she said is) is to tell us who is talking. 

Said is a lovely, invisible little word that gives our brains the info they need and allows our minds to move on without overthinking or—in the case of a character who “ejaculates” the words—exploding. 

Now, this bit o’ wisdom is not without controversy. 

Some editors and writers will die on the hill of disagreement with me. And of course, English teachers—whom I love and support—are fond of telling students to “mix it up” because using the same word is boring. These teachers—whom I love and support—are wrong. A dialogue tag is neither the time nor the place to show off our vocabulary (indeed, terrible academic papers might be the only place for this). 

So how does an author convey the manner in which something is said without using extrapolated or screeched or belched? Context, of course. Create the character so well, set the scenes so well, write the sentences so well that the reader knows or can well-imagine on their own how something is said. 

Writers need to do our jobs and trust readers to do theirs. And that means, writers need to let go of our words and let the readers read and use their imaginations.

Of course, this is terrifying. 

Especially for the writer who wants to control the narrative. 

But as both an artist and a person of faith, I believe we must resist this. 

As artists, what we create and release into the world is no longer just ours. I mean, it is, legally. (Quote and cite! Plagiarism is a crime! Pay artists!) But the way a book or dance or song or sculpture affects me, the way I react or respond or change or grow based on my experiences in life and with the artwork belongs to me. It’s legitimate.

Same for you.

I suppose this is why I struggled as an English Literature major a million years ago with identifying the author’s “intention” or “themes” in books. While this is an important field of study (I promise: English teachers, I love you!), great books have always felt so personal to me, so intimate. As does all great art. I feel most exposed and raw and vulnerable in the audience of great paintings or productions. These are holy moments, and our reactions or interpretations matter as much as the artist’s. 

“Art” that makes us feel nothing or do nothing is not art.

As a person of faith, I feel the same. Because of how God—the Great Artist—reveals Godself in God’s masterpiece—creation—and in the Scriptures. 

God may be in control (I do believe in God’s complicated sovereignty), but God does not seem concerned with controlling the narrative. 

If God were, the Bible would be a whole lot clearer. And we’d understand creation—even just this Earth—a whole lot better. We’d never disagree on interpretations of passages. There would be no Schisms or Reformations or denominations. No person of faith would still believe the Earth was six-thousand-years old or *clutches pearls* flat. A certain candidate would not … Act, nevermind.

As it is, God inspired fallible folks to write of humanity’s experiences with God—sometimes of their first-hand encounters, sometimes of stories that had been passed down (read: modified, edited) through the years and even centuries.

God tells God’s story through means—the Scriptures, Creation, our personal run-ins with the holy—that are wildly open to interpretation based on our personalities, our experiences, our understanding of God, our temperaments, our traditions… All the things that we bring to art.

And so, when the Lord “sayeth” something in the Scriptures, we bring those interpretive elements to how we read it and how we hear that voice of the Lord. Some of us hear shouting. Some of us hear disgust. Some hear whispers. Some hear a voice crack. Some hear warmth. Some see the smile behind the words. 

If we’re reading the Bible “right” —open to the Spirit’s movements all while considering the history, context, authorship, audience, the translations, the politics—and we’re bringing our vulnerable selves to the reading, I’d guess it’s a mixture of both. Depending.

I want to say this is because God trusts God’s readers. God did give us minds and wisdom, after all. But maybe it’s something closer to God wanting us to trust God—and engage with God’s great gift to us—art.

Anyway, this is why Caryn says, “Use said.”