Subtext and Non-sequiturs
Don’t write too logically. Lines and actions that seem illogical often reveal the hidden truth beneath a scene.
This analysis refers to a scene from the 1993 movie Short Cuts. You can find the entire scene in SHORT CUTS: scene for analysis.
Don’t be afraid of illogical dialogue
Writing dialogue as logical back‑and‑forth puts all meaning on the surface. Strong scenes keep truth underwater and let it reveal itself in glimpses.
In fact, when a line doesn’t seem to follow — a non-sequitur — it often reveals the emotional truth that characters have been trying to hide. That’s where the real power lies in writing.
Non-sequiturs are lines or actions that “don’t follow” logically, responding to the emotional subtext of the scene, not the literal words. The judicious use of non-sequiturs makes for dialogue that reveals deeper truths beneath the surface of a scene.
When you’re writing dialogue, there’s a great temptation to make the exchange flow logically. To give each line a clear and logical intention and meaning, followed by a neat and logical response that triggers another neat and logical response and so on.
Which puts the entire meaning of the scene out in the open, in the spoken words. This temptation is especially strong in the big climactic scenes, where you can really show your chops as a writer of big, meaningful, emotional speeches.
But it’s much more powerful to keep the actual truth beneath the surface of the scene and only let it leak through from time to time.
Think of the hidden truth in a scene like a monster. It’s far scarier and more impactful when seen in glimpses than out in the open.
The power of non-sequiturs
A non-sequitur is a line or action that doesn’t seem to make logical sense because it doesn’t fit the flow of the words or actions. It bypasses the literal thread of the words in a scene, and responds to the truth under the surface. The subtext.
Non-sequiturs are glimpses of the truth hidden beneath the surface of a scene.
Subtext is the monster in the deep.
A Case Study from Short Cuts (1993)
SHORT CUTS (Robert Altman, 1993) has a multi-character multi-strand storyline put together from a series of short stories by Raymond Carver. Many of the stories are conflated or overlapped to create a larger unity, but the following scene is the climax of a single storyline taken from a single short story called So Much Water So Close To Home.
Stuart and Claire have a solid long-standing marriage, but without children. They believe that they know each other deeply and accept each other for who they are. Stuart tolerates Claire’s aspirations to culture and cultured friends, and Claire tolerates Stuart’s joking misogyny and his need to go away fishing with his male friends.
In short, they believe that they rub along together in a strong and trusting but ‘real’ marriage.
Then, on one of Stuart’s fishing trips, at the end of a long hike to a ‘secret’ location, they discover the naked body of a young woman floating in the water near their campsite. Dusk is falling, it’s too late to walk out again that night, and step by step the men persuade themselves that it’s ok to finish their weekend of fishing before they hike out to report the body.
But when Stuart gets home at the end of his weekend fishing, with the trout he promised Claire, he’s got a problem. He needs to tell Claire about the dead woman before she finds out. He needs to control the narrative, as they say.
He doesn’t want to tell her, but he can’t risk her finding out from someone else.
I ask myself ‘What’s his deadline?’ And I imagine it’s when she turns the radio on while she makes breakfast. And it’s already the small hours of the morning.
He’s got a bit of time, but not a lot. So, he doesn’t jump straight in.
First, he sets the scene – waking Claire up, showing her his catch, waltzing her around the living room, and then taking her to bed. And now he has his chance.
INT. STUART AND CLAIRE’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Stuart and Claire lie in their bed together. They have just finished making love. It has been good for both of them.
CLAIRE
You make me very happy.
Stuart is staring at the ceiling.
STUART
Claire?
CLAIRE
Hmmmmm?
STUART
We found a body up there.
A girl. Guess she was murdered.
He’s got it out. Now all he has to do is make sure Claire thinks he always did the right thing, and any dubious actions or choices come from the other guys. He wants her to think, “Poor Stuart. What else could he do?”
And for a while that works. Claire is sympathetic to Stuart – though disturbingly (for him) she seems more sympathetic to the dead woman.
But subtext can’t stay buried forever. Eventually, it forces its way into the open — often through a line that doesn’t logically follow.
The Monster Emerges.
Then she asks the fatal question, and Stuart’s plan begins to unravel.
CLAIRE
How long did you leave her in the water?
STUART
Claire, she was dead! We didn’t think we should move her. It was dark.
We made a decision to leave her there until we could report it.
She was already dead.
Instead of answering Claire’s literal question literally – “Two days” – Stuart answers the subtext of her question. He knows he can’t tell the truth about how long they left the woman in the water because of how Claire will judge him.
The fear that he has been trying to suppress and control breaks through the surface.
There’s a sudden shift from his HOPE that she will understand and forgive him, if only he manages to portray the events in the right way, to his FEAR that she will see through his story to the truth, judge his actions, and reject him.
He knows that, at the heart of this conversation, she is asking herself whether he is a man she can trust and respect. And in his heart of hearts, he knows what the answer is. But he doesn’t want to admit it.
So he doesn’t come clean. Yet.
See The ‘So…, But…’ Chain for more on HOPE and FEAR.
He knows that letting his fear become visible could be fatal to his hopes of forgiveness. A truly innocent man would not feel that fear.
So, he pushes his fear under the surface and goes back to constructing his narrative, where everything he did was reasonable and understandable, and any dodgy action was a joint decision.
But the picture in Claire’s head has already shifted too far, and she goes on trying to clarify what happened, and reconcile it with what she wants to believe about her husband.
Until finally Stuart cracks again, in another non-sequitur. Again, instead of answering the question, he responds to the subtext.
CLAIRE
Well, when did you catch the fish?
STUART
Christ, that’s what we went up there for!
To fish!
And that’s when Claire finally realises the truth. And replies with her own new truth.
CLAIRE slams the bathroom door.
CLAIRE
You’re making me sick.
Non-Sequiturs Show the Truth
If a scene really matters, then most of the time the truth is like a big underwater monster. It spends 90% of the time underwater, only showing on the surface through ripples and dark shadows.
But every now and again, it surfaces abruptly—and only then do we see its true shape and size.
As Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in.”
In dialogue, those cracks are non-sequiturs.
Non-sequiturs pivot on a hope/fear seesaw.
Think of every emotionally charged scene as sitting on a seesaw — hope on one end, fear on the other. The character’s unspoken emotional truth sits right at the pivot point between them. When the weight suddenly shifts (in either direction), a non-sequitur often bursts out.
As an example, Stuart’s seesaw is:
- Hope: ‘If I tell the story convincingly and carefully, she’ll understand and keep loving, respecting and trusting me.’
- Fear: ‘If I admit my part in leaving the dead woman in the water, I’m lost. My marriage is in big trouble.’
There’s also another Fear: ‘If Claire works it out for herself before I ‘fess up, that might be even worse.’
But I think Stuart calculates that, for him, there’s not a lot of difference between confessing or not, because there’s no chance the sympathy he gets for confessing would outweigh the condemnation he will get for what he did. There’s no way to keep Claire’s respect if the truth surfaces.
So, he doesn’t let himself go there.
The pivot can also go from Fear to Hope.
Imagine your character is talking to somebody they admire immensely. Or are hopelessly in love with, but fear they’re out of their league.
In this situation, the seesaw might be favouring fear instead of hope. Every interchange is governed by their fear of making a fool of themselves and blowing any chance of getting what they hope for.
Fear is the surface state, and hope (or expectation) could be the emotion that bursts out in a non-sequitur. Perhaps he (if it’s a he) says something inappropriate about her clothes, or her perfume. Something that bursts out and reveals the truth of what he hopes for.
And not necessarily what you’re thinking. It could be quite innocent.
Interestingly, non-sequiturs that pivot from fear to hope often land as comedy, while those that pivot from hope to fear tend to land as drama.
RELATED ESSAYS
Who’s Got the Problem Now? – Using problem ownership to shape POV and tension.
The ‘So…, But…’ Chain for more on Hope and FEAR
