While I’m mulling over my writing options, I’m taking a
refresher course from some experts. About six years ago, when I was just setting
out as a writer, I came across Elmore Leonard’s “Ten Rules for Writing.” The essay had
appeared in The New York Times, in a
series of articles called “Writers on Writing.”
The points he made have stuck with me ever since, although I re-read
them periodically. I thought you might
enjoy them, too. Being A Good Author Is A Disappearing Act. By ELMORE LEONARD These are rules
I’ve picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when I’m writing a
book, to help me show rather than tell what’s 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 it’s only to create atmosphere, and not a character’s
reaction to the weather, you don’t 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 Steinbeck’s “Sweet Thursday,” but it’s O.K. because a character in the
book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: “I like a lot of
talk in a book and I don’t like to have nobody tell me what the guy that’s
talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he
talks. . . . figure out what the guy’s 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. That’s nice. But I wish it was set aside so I
don’t have to read it. I don’t want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the
story.” 3. Never use a verb
other than “said” 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 “she asseverated,” and had
to stop reading to get the dictionary. 4. Never use an
adverb to modify the verb “said” . . . . . . 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 “full of rape and adverbs.” 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. . We’ll look at the last five tomorrow. |
