When one of my books is published in another country, I’m sent a copy or two, and I always enjoy seeing how my story is represented on the cover. Last week the Turkish edition (translated into Turkish) of Ella Enchanted came in the mail, with a fetching cover, which I asked my husband to put on the website. You can see it and other foreign editions of Ella if you click on this link: http://www.gailcarsonlevine.com/ella_oth.html. They’re not for sale. I don’t know how you’d purchase them if you happened to be interested.

On to the post, and this week I’m letting you do a lot of the work because there were so many comments when this question came from unsocialized homeschooler on May 8, 2013: I’m writing a story right now, and one of the characters has a speech impediment. The character often drops his “Rs” and pronounces them wrong. I read online that an author should never write out accents or quirks in the character’s speech, and that it’s distracting, hard to follow, and generally doesn’t work. The author of the article that talked about this said that mentioning it a few times will do the trick, but I’m not sure. What does everyone here think about writing out things like that? Is it annoying? Should it not be done? Does it make it easier to hear the character in your mind if it’s written out, or is mentioning it a few times enough?

In response, Michelle Dyck wrote, I’d find it annoying if it was overdone or simply hard to read. But I have read several books where I thoroughly enjoyed the accents the author wrote out:
-A mystery series set in London in the 1800’s, where the lower-class people dropped their Hs. (For example, “Mr. Astley set ‘er out on ‘er ear, ‘e did.”)
-And a series set in the South during the Civil War, in which the slaves’ speech was written out exactly how they’d sound. (It’s been a while since I read those, so I don’t have any examples.)
I’ve also read a book where a character was Irish or Scottish, and whenever he said “you”, it was written “yu.” It took me a while to figure out that it was supposed to be pronounced with a short u, not a long u, but once I did, I think I could hear his accent better.


Anyway, I’m not sure about just mentioning it a few times. I think I’d wonder why a character started out talking differently, then began speaking normally. I’d probably consider it a mistake on the author’s part.

And carpelibris wrote, I’m from the “Use dialect like hot pepper” school of thought. Put in a dash where it’s needed, but don’t overdo it.

And Elisa wrote, I don’t especially like lots and lots of funnily spelled words. You might mention it a couple times, or something, but don’t over do it. If he has a speech impediment, don’t make him talk a whole lot. If he can’t talk correctly, then have him be sort of embarrassed about it, and try his hardest not to say anything with R’s in it. Or every now and then do this: “It was red, really bright red.” he said. (Only it sounded like he said: It was led, eally blight led.) and put the pronunciations in brackets. I do that with one of my lisping characters. I’m not sure if people find that annoying, but I don’t do it that often; maybe once every three chapters or so, just to remind everyone.

And writeforfun wrote, I have a character in my books who can’t pronounce s’s properly, and I read the “mention it a few times” advice before I wrote it, so that is what I did. I discovered, however, that before long, even I forgot that he had a lisp! I’m still trying to figure out just how to fix it, so I appreciate these comments, too!

Finally, Rosjin wrote, An author I enjoy, Brian Jacques, had a habit of giving his characters very distinct (and sometimes heavy) accents. At first, I couldn’t understand a word one group was saying, but it was really fun to read. After the first book, it was much easier. I love them. It’s so fun to try and read them out loud, or listen to the audio books to see how they sound.


The only drawback is that some people end up skipping the heavily accented dialogue. They never learn to read it, and may end up putting the book down.


I say a balance is needed. I probably wouldn’t write accents as heavily as Mr. Jacques, but I would want it to be present. If a character has a lisp, I think you should write his dialogue with a lisp. If it seems a little overdone when you’re finished, then smooth out a few parts.

Here, played out on the blog, is one of the delights of being in a writing group. Members’ perspectives vary, and that variety broadens our choices. If people disagree, maybe we don’t get clarity, but we get complexity and freedom.

When I was starting out, the advice I got from teachers and read in books was to use dialects, accents, and speech oddities sparingly, as carpelibris suggests. I’m still in that camp. In Ever, for example, the gods and people of Akka pronounce their p’s as b’s. Here’s how I introduce it:

“Pardon me.”  He has an accent.  His p sounds like a b.  Bardon me.  I don’t know anyone who speaks with an accent.

And that’s it in the beginning. I don’t care much if the reader remembers the accent. My purpose was twofold: to set the two civilizations apart, the city-state of Hite and rural Akka; and to show how sheltered Kezi is.

Later in the book I remind the reader of the accent when Kezi meets another Akkan god:

“I… am… Puru…  I’ve come to help you find your destiny.”
His accent is the same as Olus’s.  I hear Buru and helb.

Puru has another speech peculiarity, slow speech. Here’s where I introduce it, in a scene from the POV of the Akkan god Olus:

When he speaks no constant breath pushes his words, so he stops after each one.  “Olus… will–”
“Hush, Puru,” Hannu says, frowning.
“He’s too young to hear about his fate,” Arduk adds.
Puru says, “Olus… will… have… no happiness until he gains what he cannot keep.”

Notice that I put ellipses (dots) between the each of the first few words in his sentences but then I stop. I tried putting them everywhere, but it was irritating to read, even for me.

So one way to remind the reader of a character’s unusual speech without constantly reproducing it is to have him meet someone new, as when Puru meets Kezi. The new acquaintance may ask him to repeat himself or may simply not understand. The situation can turn funny if the mispronounced word sounds like a different word. My husband and I once saw an example of this in print, because of the problem that Chinese and Japanese speakers sometimes have with the letter r. (I may have told this before on the blog. Forgive me!) We were in Chinatown in New York City and saw a billboard for a movie. The title was there in Chinese characters along with the English translation: Love on a Foggy Liver!!!

Almost anything can be a tool for character development, and a speech peculiarity can be, too. Elisa suggested something along these lines. Let’s give a name to our character who has trouble with his r’s – let’s call him Marc. He’s teased about it when he’s little, and as a result he becomes a quieter person as he grows up. More self-conscious, too, and less spontaneous. He rarely bursts out with speech because he’s always thinking ahead to where the r’s may come up and looking for synonyms.

Pamela, on the other hand, could go the other way. She doesn’t mind the way she sounds. In fact, she exaggerates it. Or Theo doesn’t like his r’s, so he becomes obsessive about overcoming them. The first money he earns he spends on speech therapy, then on a voice coach. He develops a news anchor voice, deep, rich, unaccented, perfect on his r’s, except that on occasion, under stress, all his training evaporates.

Secondary characters can be revealed, too. Inez, not the nicest person in the world, delights in trapping Marc into saying words with r’s in them. In their Public Speaking class she gives her speech on speech impediments, and she delivers it directly at Marc. She tries this once on Pamela, but never again. However, she finds a way to trigger Theo’s funny r, and she takes great delight in doing it again and again.

Another secondary character, a kind one, can be revealed by her treatment of Marc, Pamela, and Theo. And we can get to know Theo’s speech therapist and his eccentric voice coach.

The odd r can become a plot element. The three journey together to a distant kingdom where the inhabitants have been waiting for three strangers who can’t say r. A native prophesy says that these strangers will discover how to open an ancient secret vault. In this case, with the r so important, I think we’d probably want to show it every time.

Here are three prompts:

• Write about the kingdom that expects three strangers and how our r-challenged heroes figure out how to open the vault and what turns out to be in it and what consequences follow.

• Write a scene that takes place on Marc’s sixteenth birthday. Show the kind of boy he’s grown up to be.

• Inez manages to make Theo think he loves her. Write their third date, during which all his speech training falls apart. If you like, he can triumph in the end.

Have fun, and save what you write!