If you need to use color for dialog then I think you need to re-evaluate how you're performing said dialog. Primarily, the basic rules of it. In a narrative format you would incorporate some variation of the phrase, "[x] said/said [x]" after the first logical pause in the character's dialog before continuing - or even just finishing, if brief - the dialog. Once more, when a line of dialog has been said a new paragraph for narration or dialog is made.
Here's a sample of properly structured dialog from PoW:
In the storm of traffic sounds there was a sing-song occasion to the grinding of vehicles and marching of boots. From somewhere along the side of a road a truck ladden full of eager young men in simple white robes sang songs of praise as they thumped their fingers against the worn and patched wooden stocks of rifles up to some fifty years old. From somewhere in the distance beyond the constraining obstruction of banners, truck and wagons laden down with produce and supply, and the very presence of people all around the amplified shouts of some soldier gave direction. The traffic slowed, and in the shadow of an acacia and flowering Terminalia tree they were brought to almost a stand-still in the torrid river of traffic and migration.
“I don't get it, I would expect people to be leaving with this area under potential threat of the Spanish.” Wen observed as he gazed on down the road. Off to the side hills rose and fell to great in the distance the veiled haze of distant mountains.
“I suppose commerce still has to flow.” Mulki opined, “Perhaps that's it?”
“Maybe.” the Chinese pilot responded as he gazed out at a group of shaggy men riding thin, small horses along the side of the road. Stained and dirty white robes hung to hug the gray and patchy flesh of the beast as machine guns bounced at their backs. Sunken graven eyes starred out down the road, and beneath their scraggly black beards their expression did not change so much as to flinch or spit. There was a certain American desperado air to them, made more musical by the clicking chimes of bullet-packed bandoleers that wrapped their chests. “But it still doesn't explain the guns.” he added in a low sketchy tone. He eagerly cranked up the window to put a barrier between he and the individuals outside.
“Well, once we get inside the city and through it maybe things will be a lot less... war-y.” Mulki smiled weakly. She was visibly wary, as much as Wen. She stressed her words as she leaned over the driver's wheel. Perhaps she was hoping to not be seen.
It also happens to be what was on hand.
Now the way folk here are describing the way they need text makes me think that a lot of people are not structuring their dialog properly so it all bleeds into a single block of text, or at least there's no proper spacing between lines of dialog with the character's thoughts shifting or the conversation partner stepping in, or a whole new third, fourth, fifth, etc. party partaking in the conversation. Which makes me think ya'll are writing like this (using the same segment):
In the storm of traffic sounds there was a sing-song occasion to the grinding of vehicles and marching of boots. From somewhere along the side of a road a truck ladden full of eager young men in simple white robes sang songs of praise as they thumped their fingers against the worn and patched wooden stocks of rifles up to some fifty years old. From somewhere in the distance beyond the constraining obstruction of banners, truck and wagons laden down with produce and supply, and the very presence of people all around the amplified shouts of some soldier gave direction. The traffic slowed, and in the shadow of an acacia and flowering Terminalia tree they were brought to almost a stand-still in the torrid river of traffic and migration. “I don't get it, I would expect people to be leaving with this area under potential threat of the Spanish.” Wen observed as he gazed on down the road. Off to the side hills rose and fell to great in the distance the veiled haze of distant mountains. “I suppose commerce still has to flow.” Mulki opined, “Perhaps that's it?”
“Maybe.” the Chinese pilot responded as he gazed out at a group of shaggy men riding thin, small horses along the side of the road. Stained and dirty white robes hung to hug the gray and patchy flesh of the beast as machine guns bounced at their backs. Sunken graven eyes starred out down the road, and beneath their scraggly black beards their expression did not change so much as to flinch or spit. There was a certain American desperado air to them, made more musical by the clicking chimes of bullet-packed bandoleers that wrapped their chests. “But it still doesn't explain the guns.” he added in a low sketchy tone. He eagerly cranked up the window to put a barrier between he and the individuals outside. “Well, once we get inside the city and through it maybe things will be a lot less... war-y.” Mulki smiled weakly. She was visibly wary, as much as Wen. She stressed her words as she leaned over the driver's wheel. Perhaps she was hoping to not be seen.
This is probably the most atrocious execution of such a thing.
But the emotion and the impact of a text does not come from the color used. At best, color might be used for emphasis as much as the header functions. But it shouldn't be such regular use as the proper use of paragraph breaks, quotation marks, and/or even indentation.
"decorated" dialog should put more emphasis on emotional variations of "he said/she said" using alternative phrases like, "he cried", "she demanded", "he wailed", "she mourned", "he inquired", "she pressed", and so on and so on. Further elaboration can be done by including narrative description of other things not reflective in tone of voice or way of deliver. Stuff like what the character's doing while he or she speaks.
If the conversation is two-way you also don't need to chant the character's names every line and there's a point in general dialog or even when there's no change in emotion made in the conversation you can avoid the use of "[x] said" all together and just throw down the line in quotations. Someone actually reading the conversation can pick up who's speaking by remembering the x-y pattern. But if it gets to three or more then you might have to.
It's just basic fucking prose and hanging your hat on "color = excitement" is not a proper excuse as it doesn't actually train anyone to be better if their whole presumption of writing is based on some convoluted interpretation of color theory.
EDIT - If more clearer examples were needed. Here's a clip of a post of mine from "Do The Eagles Circle the Mountains":
There was a sudden roar as Sathsvitra's chicken went down. With a wet squall it fell limp against the deck, twitching as blood splashed from its gouged face. An eye had been torn out from the hooked blades on the other bird's foot and now it hung desiccated and destroyed from its socket. The bird lay against the deck, exhausted and dying with heavy breaths. Cheering, the human gambler threw up his hands and cheered among a chorus of applause and excited screams. Even the tablas ceased to play as the drummer rose from his seat to applaud the victorious sailor.
“IMPOSSIBLE!” Sathsvitra roared furious as he shot up. Striding forward through the battlefield he punted the victor's bird to the side and rounded on the winner, “You cheated!” he challenged, getting into his face. His heavy fingers jabbed between his chest. The satyr prince breathed dragon fire. His cherry-hot face in the sailor's.
Balel stood by at a distance as he watched the quarrel unfold.
“Cheated!?” the sailor defended himself, “No m'lord, it is I who had the best bird! Not you! That is simply that!”
“I refuse to believe.” Sathsvitra grunted, continuing his accusations, “I saw something funny about that bird of yours. You pulled a trick! You cheated!”
The other sailors backed off. Some among them were afraid and quacking. Balel watched a burly Bandara step back. The two's eyes met and they exchanged knowing nods. But many, though driven back by sudden shock did not have the same level of anxiety as the others, but quickly came to realize there was another path to making money.
“And fuck your mother's tits!” the sailor declared triumphantly, placing his hands on the prince's shoulders and pushing him back.
On the far side of the deck Balel spotted Gopda. Sathsvitra's more distantly reserved brother looked on. But as he crossed his arms as he leaned against the deck railing he gave no impression of looking to interfere. He – like everyone else – was going to let this play out.
“Fifteen Rupees on Babi.” offered the Bandara as he trudged to Balel's side.
“Likewise on Sathsvitra.” Balel matched in a dry tone. He held out a hand and the two shook.
“You will not taint my honor!” Sathsvitra roared. His voice seemed to shake the very ocean air. And even if by chance, the wind died briefly as his boisterous wrath.
“Then I will!” Babi shouted back, throwing a hand into the air, “And I will taint you when I put you to the floor!” he declared. He rushed forward, but made no more than two steps before Sathsvitra swung, decking the sailor in the face and scattering him to the ground. The sound of crunching bone ground the air with a streamer of fresh, immediate blood.
With a hard meaty 'umph' Babi hit the ship's deck. Hands held tight to his face to fight off a river of blood that was flowing from between his fingers. He screamed incomprehensibly into his hands as Sathsvitra stood over him.
Transcript from Stephen King's The Stand:
At quarter past two the next afternoon, Glen Bateman burst straight into the apartment without knocking. Fran was at Lucy Swann's house, where two women were trying to get a sourdough sponge started. Stu was reading a Max Brand Western. He looked up and saw Glen, his face pale and shocked, his eyes wide, and tossed the book to the floor.
"Stu," Glen said, "On, man, Stu. I'm glad you're here."
"What's wrong?" he asked Glen sharply. "Is it... did someone find her?"
"No," Glen said. He sat down abruptly as if his legs had just given out. "It's not bad news, it's good news. But it's very strange."
"What? What is it?"
"It's Kojak. I took a nap after lunch and when I got up, Kojak was on the porch, fast asleep. He's beat to shit, Stu, he looks like he's been through a Mixmaster with a set of blunt blades, but it's him."
"You mean the dog? That Kojak?"
"That's who I mean."
And although a movie, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' moments where Hunter S. Thompson's inner monologue pops up as narration is pulled directly from his own novel of the same name. This also being an example of colorful dialog, as per Hunter's character.
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