In the world of espionage, a single word can betray an agent. A slight pause can reveal a lie. Dialogue in a thriller does more than just move the story along. It builds tension, uncovers secrets, and keeps your reader holding their breath. If your characters speak in perfectly grammatical paragraphs while dismantling a bomb, you lose the grounded, lived-in authenticity that makes a story believable.
As a writer, I’ve found that dialogue is one of the most powerful tools for creating suspense. It’s a craft I work on constantly. This guide explores how to write dialogue that feels real, sharpens conflict, and pulls your reader deeper into the high-stakes world you’ve created. We’ll move from the fundamentals of natural speech to the more nuanced techniques of layering subtext and danger into every conversation.
Before you can master the coded language of spies, you have to capture the rhythms of real human speech. Much of the unconvincing dialogue I read comes from a writer trying too hard to be informative or grammatically perfect. Real people interrupt each other. They speak in fragments and often avoid answering a question directly.
The best way to learn this is to listen. Pay attention to conversations in public spaces, like a café or on a train. Notice how rarely people speak in complete, elegant sentences. When I’m writing an interrogation scene, I don’t have my protagonist deliver a flawless monologue. Instead, they might hesitate, deflect, or give clipped, one-word answers. This makes their stress feel genuine.
One of the quickest ways to kill suspense is with forced exposition, where characters tell each other things they obviously already know just for the reader’s benefit.
For example, a clunky line might be: “Remember, the ‘Persephone’ file contains the satellite access keys we need to stop the attack on the power grid.”
A much stronger and more realistic exchange would be:
“Status on Persephone?”
“Almost secured.”
“Get it done. Without those access keys, we’re looking at a blackout across the entire coast.”
The second version works because it jumps straight to the conflict. You cut the fluff and focus on the immediate stakes. That is the core of writing good thriller dialogue.
In espionage fiction, trust is a commodity few can afford. This means characters rarely say what they truly mean. This gap between words and intent is where you find subtext, and it’s a goldmine for tension. Subtext is the river of meaning flowing just beneath the surface.
A character might ask, “How was your trip to Geneva?” but what they are really asking is, “Did you make the exchange?”
When you’re writing, focus on this gap between the words spoken and the character’s true goal. If a character is terrified but trying to appear calm, their words might be polite, but their sentences could be short and their hands might betray them. I often write scenes where the setting does half the work. Imagine two operatives meeting in a bustling Arab souk. The scent of spices and the noise of the crowd create a cover for their tense conversation. The dialogue can be sparse because the sensory details and the subtext carry the weight of the scene.
One of my favorite ways to practice subtext is to write a scene where two enemies are having a pleasant dinner. On the surface, they are discussing wine or the menu. Beneath the surface, one is telling the other that they know about the betrayal. The tension comes from the restraint.
Here is an example of how that might look:
“This Bordeaux is excellent,” Viktor said, swirling the glass. “It ages well. Unlike some of our mutual friends. I heard poor Elias didn’t make it past the border yesterday.”
“What are you trying to say?” She set her glass down. Hard. A few drops of wine almost spilled over the rim. “Elias was careless.”
“I’m talking about the wine. Excellent tanins.
“Let’s hope you have better luck.”
A conversation between two talking heads in an empty room is rarely interesting. Your characters exist in a physical world. They grip weapons, glance at exits, or check their watches. Using action beats instead of simple dialogue tags is a crucial skill for pacing and realism.
Instead of writing:
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said nervously.
Try something stronger:
He wiped his palms on his trousers. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The action grounds the scene and gives the reader a clear visual. It also allows you to show the character’s emotional state. Body language can even contradict the dialogue, which is fantastic for building suspense. My character, Petra Shirazi, might say, “I’m fine,” while her knuckles are white from gripping a chair under the table. These small contradictions bring the dialogue to life.
While action beats are powerful, you need to use them carefully. If you put an action beat after every single line, it creates a choppy rhythm that disrupts the flow of conversation. Use them to emphasize important moments or pauses.
Here is how a balanced exchange might look:
She locked the door. “Sit down.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.” She pulled the file from her jacket and tossed it on the table. “Read this.”
Using the action cues more sparingly helps keep the snappy back-and-forth rhythm of the conversation intact. Another version could be:
“Sit your ass down.” She shoved him into the chair and tossed a file onto the table in front of him. “Read this.”
Sometimes, the most critical conversation happens inside a character’s head. Internal dialogue gives the reader access to a character’s fears, calculations, and deductions in real time. This is particularly useful in spy fiction, where so much relies on strategy and observation.
To avoid confusing the reader, it’s important to distinguish thoughts from spoken words. A common approach is to use italics without quotation marks for internal thoughts.
“Of course, I trust you,” she said. Like hell I do. That’s a wire under your collar.
This technique creates dramatic irony. The reader is in on the secret, which ramps up the tension. Use it with care, however. Too much internal monologue can slow the pacing or pull the reader out of the scene. Keep it sharp, reactive, and focused on the immediate stakes.
New writers often hunt for exotic synonyms for “said.” You might see words like opined, queried, stated, etc.
Here is a hard truth: “Said” is invisible. Readers skim over the word “said” and focus entirely on the dialogue itself. When you use flashy tags, you draw attention to that word. So, it’s important only to use those when that’s actually what you want, and to use them sparingly.
Some other alternatives that can enhance the scene when the tone isn’t obvious from the dialogue itself:
If a character yells, “Get down, grenade!” you do not need to add “he screamed.” The exclamation point and the context do the work for you.
As you edit your manuscript, run your scenes through this quick filter to ensure you are hitting the mark.
Mastering dialogue is a continuous practice. It’s about more than just what your characters say. It’s about the conflict bubbling beneath the surface, the information they withhold, and the pauses that speak volumes.
Give every exchange a purpose and load it with stakes. When your dialogue carries conflict and consequence, you don’t need a car chase to get a reader’s pulse racing. Sometimes, two people in a quiet room are more than enough.
If you’d like more practical writing guidance like this, keep checking out my blog!
Warmly, Puja
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