# Adding subtle Irish slang into a piece without going overboard. (Long)



## Nemesis (Aug 24, 2012)

As I posted above, I have a small section of a chapter where the MC is Irish. I know it is far too easy to go overboard and cheesy when it comes to writing in accents. I'd already added a few myself base doff of what I could find. If someone who is either Irish, or had heard first hand Irish slang, could let me know what works, doesn't work, or what could be added to make the character more believable I would greatly appreciate it.

 I added the part in question below, it is his only scene outside a minor cameo in the previous chapter in which he only had one line.


When the SUV’s taillights finally dimmed and then disappeared from view entirely, Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. He had come to see Scarlet off; Lucius had neglected to be there, but that was probably for the best. The girl was tender and naïve, and madly in love with the man who had tried to act like a father to her. Marcus had no doubt she would have gone into hysterics had he been there, and Lucius had never fared particularly well against a crying young lass. While closing the wrought iron gates marking the entrance to the property, he felt Lucius’s presence in his head.

‘_Don’t be so quick to judge my friend.’ _His maker chastised, ‘_You seem to forget that all it took for her to get her way with you was to tear up a little_.’ 

“I wouldn’t be denying that anytime soon, but it wasn’t me she was crying for Lucius.” Lucius sighed; it blew through Marcus like a soft, warm wind. 

‘_I wasn’t expecting it._’ The Irishman couldn’t contain the snort that erupted from his nose.

“Then that makes you the only one. Plenty obvious to the rest of us, it was.”

‘_A heads up would have been nice._’

“To be sure, but then we’d have missed out on the dramatics.” chortled Marcus as he finished locking up.

‘_I’m glad you all found it entertaining._’ Lucius replied dryly. A cool breeze picked up, rustling the leaves of the honeylocusts trees lining the driveway beyond the gate, and with a low-hung moon brightly shining down on them, the shadows they cast upon the grass writhed. ‘_I’m about to release the men to go as they please, are you coming back inside?_’

“Yes, I’ll be..” His voice trailed off for a second; did he just see someone standing in the tree line? Marcus squinted his eyes trying to spot what is was he had just seen seconds ago. There was nothing there.

‘_What is it?_’

“Nothing, I thought I saw someone.” He was about to turn around and walk back up the hill to the mansion when he spotted it again, or thought he did. There! A figure standing in the shadows, he tried to focus on it but his eyes kept drifting away.  This time he knew he had been staring directly at the shape of a person slowly walking towards him, but every time Marcus tried to look at that spot it seemed to distort or shift and he had to look elsewhere. 

‘_Marcus?_’

She stepped into the light at least. He had known she was right there, but when she moved from out of the shadows it was as if she’d just appeared there. Poof! There she was. 

“She’s here.” He whispered. With long, slow strides she approached, her eyes trained solely on him. Her attire was simple, composed of jeans, boots, and a plain leather jacket over what looked to be a black tank-top.  A small fire arm was strapped to her thigh; over her shoulder was the bronzed gleam of a hilt, possibly that of a sword. As she drew closer he realized her eyes were large and round and had a silvery metallic sheen. He’d seen eyes like that before, only gold, they belonged to Dominus Black. 

‘_Don’t try to fight her Marcus. You can’t win._’ The woman reached the gate, but didn’t stop. She pressed forward and when her body hit the black metal she seemed to dissipate into smoke, pass through, and then reform on the other side. Their gazes locked. Something told him she was waiting for him to make a move.

“I have to Lucius,” Marcus said, “You know I’m no coward.” 

‘_Marcus!_’ He shut Lucius’s voice out of his consciousness and withdrew a pair of daggers from his side. The assassin likewise unsheathed her weapon, a scimitar, and regarded him with a stoicism he found unsettling. They began to circle each other, each taking note of the others movement and bearing.

“I want you to know that I am sorry for what I am about to do.” She murmured without a trace of censure or malice. He found himself believing her words, but never the less:

“The devil take you.” With a nod she acquiesced and they began. Marcus lunged first, missing the tender flesh of her stomach by a hair when she twisted her body to the side. She returned with a furious assault of equally narrow misses, wielding the curved blade with graceful speed and accuracy. Barely able to avoid the first few slices, she eventually caught him on his upper right arm, tearing through the sleeves of his coat and turtleneck, and leaving a deep laceration in his flesh. He was forced to roll back when she followed it up with a swing aimed for his throat.

The slayer was damned fast. Dominus had chosen well with this one. Perhaps it would be best to keep his distance instead of engaging her in close combat. Dancing backwards, Marcus pulled out a series of small throwing knives from their position inside of his jacket and unleashed them in her direction. The first three were swept aside, the second batch forced her to duck into a crouch, and, when she launched herself towards him, he let loose a third set targeting her pretty face. 

Her left hand went up. At first he thought he had failed, that she’d caught all three between her fingers. He was only half right; she’d caught them all right, but two of them had sliced open the delicate webbing between the digits and the third had buried itself in the center of her palm.  She tensed her hand and flicked it back, sending the blades flying to the ground behind her. Marcus then realized that the cut she’d made earlier was still bleeding profusely. That was queer. He eyed up the saber with its arching blade suspiciously, taking note of the small, archaic characters etched into the hilt when the light hit them just right. 

“By chance miss,” He called out as she rose, “Do you call your blade _Sentia_?”

“I do.”

“Eh, that’s pure savage then, isn’t it.” She responded by rushing him again. He blocked and parried with his daggers as best he could, managing to land a few slight blows in the process. They were equal in speed and he out matched her with the force of his blows, however, she didn’t need to cut deeply with that weapon; she only needed to draw blood. _Sentia_ would do the rest for her. Not only had the bleeding not stopped, it had gotten heavier and Marcus could tell that the wound was widening as time passed. It wouldn’t be long before he lost the ability to use his arm entirely so long as he remained in the presence of that cursed blade.  

Slowly but steadily, she was wearing him down with her constant movement. A feint, he fell for it and she punished him with a counter-attack that landed a score across his ribcage and threw him off balance. Just as he was recovering from it she dropped down and caught him behind the knees with a leg swipe technique he hadn’t been prepared for. Marcus fell back, landing hard. The woman was on him before he could even think of rolling out of the way. It all happened so fast; she was straddling him, he blinked, and Sentia was sticking out of his chest. He gasped for breath. Still astride him, she pulled the scimitars blade out of him, eliciting a groan from Marcus in the process. Blood welled from the gaping wound it left behind and soaked them both. 

 “I didn’t have a choice.” she whispered to him. Marcus trusted this to be true; there was this look on her face, regret mingled with sadness. As if she was mourning him. Perhaps it was because he was dying and his mind was starting to go, but he found it very touching. 

“It isn’t a bad way to go.” It was hard to get the words out while coughing up blood. Her features blurred, and then sharpened, her face inches from his. It wasn’t the slayer anymore though, was it? Where had this face come from? The delusions took hold. It was the face of an angel.

“You were a good man,” A lovely voice, serene and comforting. “I will not let your soul burn.” That was it; she was the angel of death, coming to bring him to heaven. A reddened mouth vainly attempted to form the words _thank you_ and instead made no sound. The space around the angel’s glorious visage grew brighter and brighter until it nearly blinded him. She leaned down to him and pressed her lips to his. There was a moment of pain, the feeling of being split apart; he tried to fight against it.

‘_Don’t fight her._’ Another voice softly called. There was someone screaming his name in the background, distant and quickly fading. ‘_Let go._’ 

He did. The pain stopped, he became light; lighter than air. He felt himself ascending into the brightness. Then, nothing.


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## JackKnife (Aug 24, 2012)

Good stuff. I hate writing fight scenes, because I always feel like they come off as unconvincing, unexciting, and really hokey, but you've pulled it off nicely as far as I can see.

The only suggestion I have is to restructure your dialogue some. It can be a little difficult to follow who's speaking at times. You need to parse your speech with commas first (eg. "Here's a comma," said Bob, "comma comma comma!" or "There's a comma," says Ruth.) and I would separate character actions from speech. Ehh, how do I explain this...



> “I  want you to know that I am sorry for what I am about to do.” She  murmured without a trace of censure or malice. He found himself  believing her words, but never the less:
> 
> “The devil take you.” With a nod she acquiesced and they began.



I'm not sure who says 'the devil take you'. Is it Marcus? If so, the woman's action should not be on the same line, directly after the dialogue, because it makes it sound like she said it. If it is her, you may want to include it on the above line, because it's already been established that she is speaking there, so it's not as confusing as it is now, after the line break.


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## Nemesis (Aug 24, 2012)

Thank you, it was a painstaking process because I've never been good at fight scenes either.

I was always taught that when there is a change of speaker you double space and start a new paragraph. It is Marcus that spoke, and after he tell hers "the devil take you" she nods in agreement. I was trying to avoid the whole 

"Comma!" George yelled.

"No comma," Sally replied gently. "Comma something comma."

"No comma?" He was confused, that didn't make any sense to him.

"Something comma, you see?" She insisted.


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## Phelpster (Aug 24, 2012)

First off with an Irish character, NEVER say "Top of the mornin' to yer" - Far too many people believe this to be an Irish phrase that they use but where that came from I have no idea.
I'm not Irish myself but I am British and frequent to Ireland.

Irish usually slang a lot of words as I've demonstrated in the "Top of the mornin' to yer" - Though how much they slang depends on what part of Ireland they're from. If they have a really strong Irish accent then they will slang a lot of words
Pickin'
Stoppin'
Are Y'avin' a laff? (Y'avin' 'You having' - They would say laugh like that, 'Laff'

Just play around with it, try listening to Irish talking and pick up on where they accent things


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## Cran (Aug 24, 2012)

Phelpster said:


> Irish usually slang a lot of words as I've demonstrated in the "Top of the mornin' to yer" - Though how much they slang depends on what part of Ireland they're from. If they have a really strong Irish accent then they will slang a lot of words
> Pickin'
> Stoppin'
> Are Y'avin' a laff? (Y'avin' 'You having' - They would say laugh like that, 'Laff'
> ...



You're confusing _slang_ with _accent_. 

_Tup a' tha marnin' te ya_ is accent. 

Slang is using out-of-context words or phrases which still manage to illustrate the message (as long as the listener understands the basis of the slang in use). 

Cockney rhyming slang, for instance; _frog and toad _= road; _trouble and strife_ = wife.

Common English non-rhyming slang: _ball and chain_ = wife; _up the duff_ = pregnant.

Australian slang: _coming the raw prawn_ = telling a load of bull ... er, unlikely stories; _
crack a tube_ = help yourself to a can of beer 


For some background and information on various Irish accents: Mid-Ulster English - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

For some Irish slang: IrishAbroad.com - Irish Social Networking worldwide


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## garza (Aug 24, 2012)

'Tis the rhythm, don't you see, that most of all sets one accent apart from one other. If you can hear the rhythm of the speech, then you'll be after gettin' the feeling of it into the words you use.


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## wee_clair_064 (Aug 24, 2012)

As anIrish person I am failing to notice the hints apart of the obvious 'the irishman said' comment. However this may be due to tiredness, so I'll give it another read tomorrow and have more thoughts!


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## patskywriter (Aug 24, 2012)

That was well written. I enjoyed reading that, but I didn't notice any of the language being overly "Irish."


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## JackKnife (Aug 24, 2012)

Noxicity said:


> I was always taught that when there is a change of speaker you double space and start a new paragraph. It is Marcus that spoke, and after he tell hers "the devil take you" she nods in agreement.



I figured as much. And yeah, that's what I was taught too, but it gets a little confusing when it comes to something like this:

"Example example," says Gugenheim.

He poops out a toad. "Flappenhanger!"

"Blah." Then she slapped him.

So, we're line breaking every time there's a new person speaking, but it's confusing because, even with the line breaks, the other person in the conversation is doing stuff in the same paragraph. I feel like it'd be a lot less confusing if it were more like this:

"Example example," says Gugenheim. He poops out a toad.

"Flappenhanger!"

"Blah."

Then she slapped him.

I'm aware that particular example makes it look really sloppy and unappealing, but... I hope you get what I mean.


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## JackBrooks (Oct 25, 2012)

“Plenty obvious to the rest of us, it was.” I do that, ending sentences with “it was”, “he was”, “I reckon”.

I also start a lot of sentences with “So” and “Here”.

“Here, any word a ya sendin that file over?” That sort of thing, although I’d say it’s probably best to avoid colloquialisms like “any word a ya”. It’s very easy to create a dodgy stereotype so subtle is definitely the way to go.

“To be sure.” Bit of a cliché these days I think.

Like others said, it was a little hard to tell sometimes who was speaking but in general I liked this.

Why not check out a few Irish movies? Man about dog, The commitments, The Snapper, The Van, or the very mighty Grabbers.


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