A few years back I came across Elmore Leonard’s short list of rules for writing. The man had a way of making stories feel like real life overheard. One line from him has stayed with me:
“My most important rule is one that sums up the ten. If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”
He also liked to say he tried to leave out the parts readers tend to skip.
Here are the rules as he laid them out:
- Never open a book with weather.
- Avoid prologues.
- Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue.
- Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said” … he admonished gravely.
- Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose.
- Never use the words “suddenly” or “all hell broke loose.”
- Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
- Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
- Don’t go into great detail describing places and things.
- Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.
Leonard started out writing advertising copy before he turned to novels. That background shows in the clean, economical way he worked. I’ve read quite a few of his books over the years and can’t recall being disappointed by one. A handful even made it to the screen without losing too much of their flavor.
What I appreciate most is how his dialogue sounds like people actually talking. Here’s a short exchange that captures it well:
“You’re not a bad-looking guy. Get your hair trimmed, wear a white shirt now and then. What kind of aftershave you use?”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.”
A father offering practical advice to his son in the middle of a breakup. The mismatch between the dad’s straightforward suggestions and the young man’s heavier heart lands in three plain lines. No extra words. No explanation needed. Just the rhythm of ordinary speech doing the work.
There’s something steady and honest in writing that stays out of its own way. It leaves room for the story — and maybe for the reader — to breathe.
Veni. Vidi. Scripsi. 