She caught Floyd’s attention, and waved him over to the counter. “What’s going on, Floyd?” The folks around her shot Erin a few sharp glares as they strained to listen to the television.
“You been under a rock, or somethin’?” Floyd pointed to the sinks behind the counter, and quietly continued, “ain’t no water in the city, accordin’ to the news. Every tap’s gone dry. City officials are sayin’ that the water’s just gone.” He shook his head. “Only water to be found is in bottles. Some mooks are already chargin’ outrageous prices fer ‘em. I’m tryin’ to hold the line tonight, but I’ll probably be out by mornin’.”
This is what Alec’s busy with. “I’m going to guess that the Brigadiers are already on it,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Floyd answered with a nod. “They been’ checkin’ the sewers and pipes fer signs of tamperin’ but there ain’t been none. They said it was like the water all just left on it’s own, or somethin’.”
Monday, February 15, 2010
Dialects and Accents
It's probably a huge mistake on my part, but tonight I started playing around with an accent. Floyd, patron of the diner frequented by much of the superhero community in my story, has his first lines, and he's got a pretty distinct way of speaking.
The way I picture Floyd, he's a part of the city (whichever one I eventually decide this is). He's lived her all his life. His parents were poor, but honest and hardworking. His diner is his pride and his dream. So the way I hear him sounds like he's from the city. Here's an excerpt:
Please tell me if I'm laying it on too thick, or god forbid if I'm doing it to an offensive level.
Tonight's Word Count: 833
Total Word Count: 28,837