Collins); Ford Rainey (Bisbee Marshal). . . .
Â
In the works (as of October 2002):
Be Cool (MGM; Jersey Films), and the return of Chili Palmer.
Tenkiller (Bruce Willis attached; you can read this short story in Elmore Leonardâs When the Women Come Out to Dance ).
Tishomingo Blues , optioned by FilmFour ( Sexy Beast ).
If It Sounds Like Writing, Rewrite It
These are rules Iâve picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when Iâm writing a book, to help me show rather than tell whatâs taking place in the story. If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules. Still, you might look them over.
1. Never open a book with weather.
If itâs only to create atmosphere, and not a characterâs reaction to the weather, you donât want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.
2. Avoid prologues.
They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want.
There is a prologue in John Steinbeckâs Sweet Thursday , but itâs o.K. because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: âI like a lot of talk in a book and I donât like to have nobody tell me what the guy thatâs talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. . . figure out what the guyâs thinking from what he says. I like some description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a little song with language. Thatâs nice. But I wish it was set aside so I donât have to read it. I donât want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the story.ââ
3. Never use a verb other than âsaidââ to carry dialogue.
The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in. But said is far less intrusive than grumbled, gasped, cautioned,lied. I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with âshe asseverated,ââ and had to stop reading to get the dictionary.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb âsaidââ. . .
. . . he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances âfull of rape and adverbs.ââ
5. Keep your exclamation points under control.
You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.
6. Never use the words âsuddenlyââ or âall hell broke loose.ââ
This rule doesnât require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use âsuddenlyââ tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
Once you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with apostrophes, you wonât be able to stop. Notice the way Annie Proulx captures the flavor of Wyoming voices in her book of short stories Close Range .
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
Which Steinbeck covered. In Ernest Hemingwayâs âHills Like White Elephantsââ what do the âAmerican and the girl with
Â
In the works (as of October 2002):
Be Cool (MGM; Jersey Films), and the return of Chili Palmer.
Tenkiller (Bruce Willis attached; you can read this short story in Elmore Leonardâs When the Women Come Out to Dance ).
Tishomingo Blues , optioned by FilmFour ( Sexy Beast ).
If It Sounds Like Writing, Rewrite It
These are rules Iâve picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when Iâm writing a book, to help me show rather than tell whatâs taking place in the story. If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules. Still, you might look them over.
1. Never open a book with weather.
If itâs only to create atmosphere, and not a characterâs reaction to the weather, you donât want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.
2. Avoid prologues.
They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want.
There is a prologue in John Steinbeckâs Sweet Thursday , but itâs o.K. because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: âI like a lot of talk in a book and I donât like to have nobody tell me what the guy thatâs talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. . . figure out what the guyâs thinking from what he says. I like some description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a little song with language. Thatâs nice. But I wish it was set aside so I donât have to read it. I donât want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the story.ââ
3. Never use a verb other than âsaidââ to carry dialogue.
The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in. But said is far less intrusive than grumbled, gasped, cautioned,lied. I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with âshe asseverated,ââ and had to stop reading to get the dictionary.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb âsaidââ. . .
. . . he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances âfull of rape and adverbs.ââ
5. Keep your exclamation points under control.
You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.
6. Never use the words âsuddenlyââ or âall hell broke loose.ââ
This rule doesnât require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use âsuddenlyââ tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
Once you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with apostrophes, you wonât be able to stop. Notice the way Annie Proulx captures the flavor of Wyoming voices in her book of short stories Close Range .
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
Which Steinbeck covered. In Ernest Hemingwayâs âHills Like White Elephantsââ what do the âAmerican and the girl with
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