Let's say you have a story in mind: you've outlined the whole plot, have characters with backstories and premade relationships. Susie is Billy's girlfriend, but also the sister of the band leader Martin, who is Adriana's little-something-on-the-side. Many of these characters probably have intricate webs of acquaintances, best-friendships, loves, enemies, and even more minute deviations in knowing and liking.
After all this planning, you start to write a scene where two long-time friends interact, perhaps at a meal or some such. Let's look at an example.
"Good morning, Susie."
"Morning, Billy. That the newspaper?"
"Yep. Want a section?"
"Comics, please."
... By now I'm sure you see the problem. Let's make Susie and Billy acquaintances, perhaps people who work for the same company but have never really interacted closely before. The same exchange could take place, easily. Because of this, the dialogue doesn't seem to ring true. They're supposed to be friends, right? Boyfriend and girlfriend? So why is their interaction so... bland?
This is the real question for any writer. Why is it that, seemingly simple exchanges that could very well take place in real life fall flat in fiction? Let's say that you're up in an airplane, snacking on the pretzels you receive for free. They taste plain, even with the salt that is so visible on them. Your Coke tastes more like the plastic cup it is served in than the delicious high fructose corn syrup you were expecting. What happened? The truth of the matter is, depending on air pressure, the same thing that makes your ears pop and ache, your tastebuds require extra stimulation. This is apparent in the expensive meals onboard: they seem to have a flavor. The reasoning for that is because it is
overseasoned to make up for this taste-sensitivity loss.
This relates in fiction more than most people know. The emotions and expressions of the characters must be a little more exaggerated to effectively communicate. Take, for example, the exchange above. The dialogue could be that of boyfriend-and-girlfriend in real life, or of co-workers, or acquainted customers of a coffee shop. The trouble is, for all of its realism, it lacks the history and emotion related to the relationship.
Most writers end up writing exchanges like the one above, and, upon realizing that the history and the feelings are absent, superimpose these in the narration. An example:
"Good morning, Susie." Billy was always so chipper in the morning, Susie thought with a grumble. Susie needed more coffee and sugared cereal to even come close to his demeanor. Which, of course, bothered her. Which, of course, he knew.
"Morning, Billy. That the newspaper?" Of course it was; what did she expect it to be, shredded magazine clippings? Her brain was not running on all cylinders. She couldn't even get out as many syllables.
"Yep. Want a section?" As if she was prepared to read about economic growth percentages and make sense of them.
"Comics, please." Billy smiled an knowing smile and handed her the top-most bundle; the only bundle to have been completely removed from the newspaper before her arrival to the kitchen. Susie narrowed her eyes. Was she as predictable as he, with his smug cheer? God, it irritated her.
... This is a perfectly all right writing sample for a beginner. This is a piece of writing that is written in pieces, and clearly so. The dialogue obviously was written first, mostly to be page-filler, squinted at by the author as not-quite-right, and then having narration come up from behind to add something extra to the dialogue that it didn't have before.
What the dialogue, narration, and scene should do is define the relationship. Even if you've written the characters over other scenes where they simply interact, you must still define the relationship. Relationships change on a daily basis. Not so drastically from enemy to lover, but one day two people may be more cautious with each other because of mood. The next, they may have a bit more simplicity to their exchanges. This is particularly true for characters who are supposed to be long-time friends. Two characters who have known each other for a long time have feelings that have been cultivated for longer than the writer probably can understand, having just met them himself. There is an easiness to their exchanges, messages in their silences, and a cruelty to their drama that is not as well play between acquaintances.
Let's try that exchange once more, with narration and description.
Susie blinked as she shuffled into the kitchen. Practically gleaming in the new sun, it pained her to even look around for any unlikely obstacles between her and the table. Even if her eyes weren't squinted, they would have been upon seeing Billy in his crisply ironed shirt and perfect tie, glancing over the stock page of their local newspaper. Susie growled under her breath: a quiet sound to her, but one that drew her boyfriend's attention away from the endless lists of numbers and arrows. With a shake of his head and a smile, he handed her a Garfield mug, filled with steaming bitterness offset by milk and sugar.
Susie took it from him and sipped greedily as she slipped into the opposite dining chair. After gasping for breath, she eyed the perfectly folded newspaper sections on the table. She frowned. Had he really gotten a paper from the grocery store, or was the paper-boy really so awful as to steal sections?
Billy crinkled the paper in his hands to lift up her precious comics section. He shook it a tad to get her attention. Her blue eyes widened and a smile tugged at her mouth. Susie held out her hands, as if begging for food or spare change, her brows straining to touch her hairline. With a sigh and another shake of his head, Billy folded the section and scooted it across the table to her. "You know," he stated, breaking their silence, "there are other sections of the paper you might be interested in. Classifieds, for example."
"Piss off. I don't need this now."
"Oh? When do you plan on--"
"Billy, please." Susie set the mug down, and covered her face with her hands.
When she said nothing more, Billy stood, scratching his chair in towards the table. Muttering under his breath, his heeled shoes clomped out of the kitchen, out of the apartment, perhaps even out of her life. Susie sighed and let her hands drop, crossing her arms. No. She wouldn't be so lucky.
...Here, the narration dominates, but only because the tension of the silence is laid over the scene, rather than depending on mundane dialogue to move a scene along. At the same time, you get that, while Susie and Billy are not exactly on good terms, they know how to push each other's buttons. Considering that I wrote that just now, it's not a perfect example of relationship interaction, but that's what the greats are for.
How do you develop a sense of relationship in characters? Glad you asked!
- Look to your own relationships. The best research is your own life. You have your circles of friends and acquaintances. Even people you see often but don't consider friends are good fodder for this. Anyone with whom you have inside jokes with, know how to irritate, stories about, or more than the most minimal interaction with is perfect. Analyze how you interact with them, how they interact with others in this environment.
- Freewrite with your characters. This could mean you interviewing them about themselves, or their relationships, or more detailed exercises. If the way you imagine your characters interacting is more on a level of acquaintance than the friendship you expected, it may be you. Imagine being with a friend and with a stranger at the same time. You're not going to act quite as you would if it was just the friend. Convince the character that you are a friend as well. Also, if you just superimpose a friendship between two characters, the relationship may need work on its own. Write the two characters interacting with something mundane, like grocery shopping or cleaning. Make them talk. Write out their inside jokes and little stories to tell about each other.
- Study camaraderie in fiction. With many stories focusing mostly on developing the ubiquitous romantic relationship, this could prove more difficult than it should. Some examples in fantasy of these relationships can be found in the works of Tamora Pierce, Anne Bishop, and Elizabeth Haydon, to name a few. Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic series takes nine books to develop the friendships of four young mages who start off as abrasive acquaintances but grow to become like family. Anne Bishop's Black Jewels "Trilogy" includes friendships that seem unsteady with the level of threats exchanged between close friends, but examine how Andulvar and Saetan, Lucivar and Jaenelle, and Daemon and Surreal interact. It isn't about love there; it's about the history of it all. Finally, Elizabeth Haydon creates a perfect relationship between Rhapsody, Achmed, and Grunthor in her Symphony of the Ages. "Siblings" by mutual adoption, the exchanges between them start rocky, but grow to be more like best friends with a closeness that makes them each easy targets for any of the other's insults.
In the end, what you're trying to accomplish is a realistic friendship like the ones you yourself have. Like Anne Bishop put, "Demanding and yielding, stubborn and considerate, arguing with one of them and defending that person in the next breath." Sound familiar?