Dialogues. Didn"t want to offend anyone

Why not publish a book? At least a book made up of dialogues - precisely because it is a way to save votes. The book of a live voice can be beautiful. It is sometimes started to turn into a novel, having gone hands into a diary and letters. It seems wrong to me. The unit of publishing activities is now a novel. And, indeed, society needs a novel as a pastime.
Society forces the writing to strive for the novel, this violence is disgusting and terrible. By the way, Chekhov hinted, what you need, you need to write a novel. It may interfere with their voice. The desire for "Roman", alas, is supported by human psychology - because for several centuries the novel became a synonym for something significant, weighty. But the loss of the tonality will not replace any longitude of sound. But only it seems that the conversation from life or from the network can be painlessly transfer to paper. Immediately finds that it is rubbish, sleeping tea. Speaker recording of the conversation - Ecania, Mefigation, strange word order. All this must be rewritten, edit.
Mechanically recorded, the voice becomes ugroen and boring, like dried on the coastal pebble of jellyfish. It must be rewritten. And then rewrite again. And now gradually the words lose the prints of the lips, turn the paper, and here they are already completely different - as dialogues in the play. The actors left somewhere, a sharp little showed in the air, losing his author. The ideas that sounded in a conversation changed, grew up like children in foreign families. No, the photographic image of the conversation is impossible - it still turns into painting by overexposses, moire, special printing appliance. Everything is changed, and no oral word cannot be held on paper. Words are sprawling as insects from under the wizard hats.
Because in front of you - only szvuk votes, only echo. The word spent runs on the water, crawling in the trunk, and how to grab it with his hand, turns into dust. This solves the question of copyright, as well as a special issue of anonymity. Someone told me that he was looking for a girl who gave birth to Woodstock"s field - and did not find it. And then it is right - what to confess in this turn of the biography, if life has been established and quite bourgeois. A random conversation saved by the network may if not breaking his life, then spoil the mood. Who needs a lot of innocent lies who spent many years later, and even an innocent flirt? It turns on the fear of someone to offend, because people change rapidly, and now your interlocutor is ashamed of the night feast, and the fitting of the Vakhanka turned into a family of family.
This dramatic dialogue does not work if it is mechanically transferred from this conversation. This is how to bring a real plumbing to the stage - a man is good, but plumbing in the play is unlikely to play