Any novelist appreciates that dialogue is an essential part of a story. It’s the means by which you follow the golden writing rule of ‘show, don’t tell’ – it’s the vehicle through which characters reveal themselves and the unfolding story.

I love writing dialogue because it really encapsulates the living, breathing characters in my mind. It’s a chance to break out of poetic prose, such as these lines from Burning Embers…

• There, under the vigilant stars, lay the sleeping jungle, abandoned and mysterious.
• Time had drifted on as golden, luminous days turned into sapphire moonlit nights.
• There, entirely enclosed by flowering shrubs, lay a phosphorescent expanse of water shimmering like a sheet of silk.

… and strike a different tone, exploring how lovers speak in real terms to each other:

• “Damn you, Coral, you could drive a saint to drink,” he said, his voice thick and trembling with emotion.
• “You think you can waltz back into my life with no explanation, expecting me to swoon at your feet.”
• “I’m a very possessive woman, Rafe. I can’t bear anybody else touching you.”

But dialogue also affords an opportunity to fashion the most romantic of dialogue – those words that lovers long to hear; and it is lines such of these I most love to write:

•  “Your skin has the translucence of fine china, so fresh, so unblemished. Such perfection is almost sinful.”
• “I will treasure you all my life. Now that I’ve found you, I will never let you go. Nothing else on earth counts.”
• “I’ll make you love me; I know I can. You won’t ever want another woman.”

“Every nerve in my body has missed you and ached for you, my darling. I can’t wait to be alone with you.”