At her request, we sat and talked. And then, without warning, she revealed herself. She might as well have stood up and taken off her clothes, or pulled her hair back and shown me not her roots, but her brain.
I've known her for years, and known she was profoundly self-absorbed. But not until this conversation had she revealed the depth of her narcissism. How lost her soul is to that dark region wasn't clear until she said, fervently and unselfconsciously,
"I know this is happening to lots of Americans, but I'm the only American I care about."
In that moment, I had no doubt that this was true.
Were I to write the scene, I'd convey context through details (she absentmindedly twists her huge diamond ring as she speaks), previous remarks ("I hate not being able to buy new clothes every season. It's not fair this is happening to me!"), her clothes (faux furs in the latest colors), her expression (sullen, resentful, self-pitying).
Listening to her bemoan her reduced but still ample income, I marveled at her materialism. I was impressed by her candor and lack of shame. And in a strange way, I was inspired by her utter lack of concern about my reaction. She was frankly, openly, and enthusiastically all about herself. As ugly as her words were, they were completely true for her.
It was a great writing moment.
Writers who love good dialogue have an ear for it. When we hear a good line, our inner tape recorder switches on. Before the conversation is over, we've written a scene around that line. Even as we listen and respond, we're taking notes, revising, and improvising. Sometimes we pursue the conversation to see if we can get another great line, or we hold the moment long enough for us to place our pen on exactly what this person is all about.
(When you get a line like this - write it down! Never let a good line go unrecorded. Even if you have great recall, don't risk it. Entire novels have stumbled out of the ether through the rift slit in the curtain by a great line. Guard every good line with your pen - you never know what may follow.)
From this one line, I gained a new insight into narcissim. My ear woke up and I heard every 'I', 'me', 'my', and 'mine' she uttered as if they echoed. That scene will live in my notes until the day it moves to a page, or feeds my understanding of a narcissistic character.
Want to write great dialogue? Listen for it. Notice and record the great lines, let yourself tune in to what humans reveal when we open our mouths.
Jennifer