The streets in my dream were made of worn brick and shadow. The sound of water dripping, carefully measuring time, could be heard down alleys I could never seem to find. My footsteps threatened to betray me to the enemies crouched and waiting around every corner. You could cut the tension with the knife in my pocket. I turned so many corners that finding my way back was impossible. Lost in the maze I kept looking for a way in or out. Around another corner. More rats. More garbage. More fear. More shadow. More footsteps. More longing. More searching. More sleep.
Dialogue That Zings with Laura Besley - November 7 & 8
Learn dialogue from every angle, from giving each character a distinct voice to avoiding info dumps and knowing when to cut a tag.
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