Too often though, beginning travel writers focus exclusively on one character (the narrator), with little effort made at capturing others’ voices.

For example, a beginning writer will describe a place, say a pueblo in Mexico, then add a brief dialogue:

“Hola,” said the man. “How are you?”
“Muy bien,” I said.

And that’s it. The writer will go back to describing his or her adventures.

The #1 easiest way to improve your travel writing is to pay attention to the way your characters sound and try to capture their individual voices. In other words, make the effort to write strong dialogue.

Dialogue Serves Multiple Functions

In the example of shallow dialogue above, the conversation served only a single function, which was to advance the story through an exchange, an interaction. Good dialogue, besides advancing the story, always performs secondary functions.

Here are a few possibilities.

Tell Backstory

“What happened?”
“Nothing,” she says. “Not a goddamn thing. Story of my life. Meet a guy at a bar and carry him home so he can pass out on my bed.”

–Jay McInerny, Bright Lights, Big City>

In this case the dialogue not only reveals the immediate backstory of what happened the night before-the narrator got drunk and passed out-but gives a glimpse of the extended backstory – “Story of my life” – of one of the characters.

Portray Action

Example 1. A doctor is examining the narrator’s wounds:

“Fragments of enemy trench-mortar shell. Now I’ll probe for some of this…Does that sting? Good, that’s nothing to how it will feel later. The pain hasn’t started yet. Bring him a glass of brandy…”

–Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

Example 2. The Narrator is trying to get his little brother Toph to get ready:

“Toph, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To the hospital.”
“Why”
“For a checkup.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Do I have to go?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I can stay with Beth.”
“Beth’s coming with.”
“I can stay alone.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t.”
“But why?”
“Jesus, Toph, get up here!”
“Okay.”

–Dave Eggers, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

Provide description / information

“What did the ordinary houses look like?”
“Like this house-built from mud, but the rooms were very small and crowded, and many of them were multistoried, perhaps because they were built on such a steep cliff. . . ”

–Rory Stewart, The Places in Between

Express Emotion:

“What’s so goddamned funny?” Austin said to the snug little subcontinental. “Why’s my bad luck a source of such goddamned amusement to you?”

–Richard Ford, “The Womanizer”

Bring It All Together

Notice how in a single bit of dialogue it’s possible to perform ALL of the secondary functions simultaneously:

Patti said, “You don’t care if I take vitamins. That’s the point. You don’t care about anything. The windshield wiper quit this afternoon in the rain. I almost had a wreck. I came this close.”

–Raymond Carver, “Vitamins”

In this case we have emotion expressed, information / backstory given, and the last bit, “I came this close,” portrays action.

Practice, Practice, Pratice

Although it’s easy to begin adding layers to your dialogue, to truly do it well you have to go beyond simply writing and begin to change your listening habits as you travel.

Eavesdrop in cafes, restaurants and public buses. Notice the way people speak, the way they hide or express their emotions. Notice the things they do as they speak as well. What is their body language?

We’ll explore how to begin utilizing those elements-the actions around the dialogue-in the next edition of Literary Techniques For Travel Writers.

David Miller has published nonfiction, fiction, and poetry in a variety of newspapers, alternative weeklies, and literary magazines including Mountain Gazette, Boulder Weekly, 34th Parallel, and Poetica. He is also Editor of Matador Travel.

Did you miss David Miller’s last travel writing article? Check out “2 Powerful Techniques To Illuminate Your Travel Writing”.

The beginning writer, however, usually tends to focus on one thing at a time.

Here are two techniques that will add depth and layering to your travel narrative.

1. Object Correlative

One of the simplest but most powerful techniques to layer descriptions, narration, and characters’ emotions, is called the object correlative.

The idea is that instead of simply stating how a character feels or thinks, the writer suggests it, using a correlation between an object and the way a character observes or acts upon it.

• Example 1 (Basic) “I felt lonely.”
• Example 2 (Object Correlative) “I’d go out to the harbor around dusk and look at the ships tied to their moorings.”

The first example-”I felt lonely”-only works on one level, telling how the character feels. The second example-if placed within the proper context-works on at least two levels, suggesting how the character feels while seamlessly continuing the narration of the story.

One of the most noted examples of all time is the “bacon fat” scene in Hemingway’s story “Soldier’s Home.”

Harold Krebs, a young soldier back in Kansas after being wounded in WWI, is unable to return to work, to his mother’s ideal of “a normal life.” Now he must endure her questioning at the breakfast table:

“I’ve worried about you too much, Harold,” his mother went on. “I know the temptations you must have been exposed to. I know how weak men are. I know what your own dear grandfather, my own father, told us about the Civil War and I have prayed for you. I pray for you all day long, Harold.”

Krebs looked at the bacon fat hardening on his plate.

In your reading, begin noting whenever a writer uses an objective correlative to express a character’s feelings. When applying it to travel writing, a good starting point is to remember a scene and note what comes to mind first.

Was it a certain music that was playing? A feature of the landscape? Keep in mind that the most effective objects are universal, things that everyone can picture and relate to immediately.

Experiment with whatever thing you want to use, trying different ways to correlate the object to your central character’s thoughts and emotions. As with any new technique it will probably come out stilted and forced at first, but will flow naturally with practice.

2. The Minor Character As Mirror

Similar to the object correlative, the way a main character interacts with a minor character can also be utilized like a mirror – reflecting emotions while driving the narrative forward.

Here is an example from Arthur Miller’s memoir Timebends. Arthur has just met an old acquaintance while getting a haircut. Note how, like an object correlative, the actions of the barber (the minor character) are used to suggest the multiple emotions that the main character feels:

“I’ll come by again,” I said, with the foreboding that I would not because nothing was left of any life between us, or that if I did she would not be here. She nodded and seemed to know this too, and walked to the door and into the dark street at the end of another day. The barber, finishing up, slipped off my semi-shroud and shook the hair off into the floor, saying nothing. He had caught her coolness, the disturbance I had brought her.

As before, look for places where writers use a minor character to help illustrate a main character’s emotions. Then experiment with the technique in your own writing.

Using a minor character as a mirror can be especially useful in travel writing, which is so often rich with minor characters-people on the streets, fishermen, merchants, fellow travelers, etc.

When the writer fails to incorporate these people into the emotional context of the story, they often become like scenery, or cardboard cutouts-and thus the story loses its verisimilitude.

Look for more of David Miller’s tips in the next edition of Literary Techniques For Travel Writers.

Photos by Ryan Libre and Nick Cowley

David Miller has published nonfiction, fiction, and poetry in a variety of newspapers, alternative weeklies, and literary magazines including Mountain Gazette, Boulder Weekly, 34th Parallel, and Poetica. He is also Editor of Matador Travel.