Old Radio Drama Writing Style
I started writing novels about ten or twelve years ago, but I had been a reader of fiction for fifty years before that. When I began writing, I knew I wanted action and dialogue with plenty of room for the reader to use his or her imagination. I called my style “Old Time Radio Drama Writing.” If you ever listened to The Lone Ranger, The Green Hornet, Sky King, Fibber McGee and Molly or Amos and Andy, just to name a few, you know what I’m talking about.
If a door slammed, you knew that someone was entering or, maybe leaving. IF it creaked, you guessed something ominous was about to happen. Horses’ hoofs could grow louder or softer, depending on whether the rider was coming or going. The sound of a propeller meant Sky King was about to land or take off. And when the listener heard Molly shout, “Fibber, don’t open that door!” you knew the sound of a closet packed full of junk was about to erupt. The listener heard these sounds and the dialogue and had the privilege of filling in the description of the characters, how they moved, how they reacted to one another with nothing more than imagination. I might have pictured a bad guy drawing down on The Lone Ranger as short and squatty with a four day beard, and even smelling as if he needed to take a bath. My brother could picture him in a suit and string tie with a devilish moustache. Each to his own. But we knew that when he drew on The Lone Ranger, his days on earth were numbered.
So, when I began to write, I wanted the reader to know my characters by what they said and did. Let them use their imagination. For example, in THE INSANITY PLEA, my protagonist, Wayne Little is six feet, four inches with black hair and gray eyes. That’s all the reader knows until he talks and reacts to events. His best friend is Duke Romack, a criminal lawyer who was at one time an NBA forward. Again, the reader has the pleasure of filling in a description. In fact, while the reader would know he is tall since he was a forward and might assume he’s black, that is not even clear until Wayne and Duke have good-natured exchanges about their races (“Wayne, ain’t I your black brother?).
That’s how I chose to write and still do to this day. What I didn’t know was that Elmore Leonard, the great writer of Westerns and crime novels had summarized this style in his “Ten Rules of Writing.” I suppose that I had read a couple of Leonard’s books over the years, but I couldn’t have named them. Then I stumbled across his rules. I could have memorized them, but intuitively I already knew them by heart, except for maybe Number 10 (which I will explain shortly) What follows are a few of his rules and my commentary:
1. Never open a book with the weather. Certainly, I agree with that. As Leonard says, the reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. In fact, I would carry that rule a little further. Why even bother to talk about the weather unless it impacts on what the characters are doing?
2. Avoid prologues. I disagree with this one. I have used prologues in several of my stories. In my current one, DARK MONEY, I open with a prologue from twenty years before the present to show how Jack Bryant and Walt Frazier met and bonded for life. I also had a prologue in THE INSANITY PLEA. In retrospect, I could just as easily called it Chapter One.
3. Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue. Leonard’s advice is that said is far less intrusive than grumbled, cautioned, gasped or lied. I agree, although I reserve the right to use different verbs to carry dialogue from time to time.
4. Never use and adverb to modify the verb “said.” I couldn’t agree more.
5. Keep your exclamation points under control. Leonard says no more than two or three per 100,000 words. I generally agree, but I might stretch is to four or five.
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters. Leonard uses Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” and asks what do the “American and the girl with him” look like? “She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.” That’s the only reference to a physical description in the story and yet we see the couple and know them by their tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight. My hat is off to Elmore.
9. Don’t go into great detail describing places and things. Personally, I don’t want to waste time to read as a character enters a room and there are paragraphs describing the carpet, the chairs and desk, the photos and diplomas on the walls and the doodads on the desk. I would just write, “It was a tastefully done home office.” The reader can fill in the blanks.
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip. This one is my favorite. Leonard says that readers will skip thick paragraphs of prose when the reader can see that they have too many words in them. He continues, “What the writer is doing, he’s writing, perpetrating the hooptedoodle, perhaps taking another shot at the weather, or has gone into the character’s head, and the reader either knows what the guy’s thinking or doesn’t care. I’ll bet you don’t skip dialogue.”
And Leonard’s summation is equally as important as Number 10: “If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”
I never met you, Elmore, but thanks for your words of wisdom. They make me a far better writer.
If a door slammed, you knew that someone was entering or, maybe leaving. IF it creaked, you guessed something ominous was about to happen. Horses’ hoofs could grow louder or softer, depending on whether the rider was coming or going. The sound of a propeller meant Sky King was about to land or take off. And when the listener heard Molly shout, “Fibber, don’t open that door!” you knew the sound of a closet packed full of junk was about to erupt. The listener heard these sounds and the dialogue and had the privilege of filling in the description of the characters, how they moved, how they reacted to one another with nothing more than imagination. I might have pictured a bad guy drawing down on The Lone Ranger as short and squatty with a four day beard, and even smelling as if he needed to take a bath. My brother could picture him in a suit and string tie with a devilish moustache. Each to his own. But we knew that when he drew on The Lone Ranger, his days on earth were numbered.
So, when I began to write, I wanted the reader to know my characters by what they said and did. Let them use their imagination. For example, in THE INSANITY PLEA, my protagonist, Wayne Little is six feet, four inches with black hair and gray eyes. That’s all the reader knows until he talks and reacts to events. His best friend is Duke Romack, a criminal lawyer who was at one time an NBA forward. Again, the reader has the pleasure of filling in a description. In fact, while the reader would know he is tall since he was a forward and might assume he’s black, that is not even clear until Wayne and Duke have good-natured exchanges about their races (“Wayne, ain’t I your black brother?).
That’s how I chose to write and still do to this day. What I didn’t know was that Elmore Leonard, the great writer of Westerns and crime novels had summarized this style in his “Ten Rules of Writing.” I suppose that I had read a couple of Leonard’s books over the years, but I couldn’t have named them. Then I stumbled across his rules. I could have memorized them, but intuitively I already knew them by heart, except for maybe Number 10 (which I will explain shortly) What follows are a few of his rules and my commentary:
1. Never open a book with the weather. Certainly, I agree with that. As Leonard says, the reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. In fact, I would carry that rule a little further. Why even bother to talk about the weather unless it impacts on what the characters are doing?
2. Avoid prologues. I disagree with this one. I have used prologues in several of my stories. In my current one, DARK MONEY, I open with a prologue from twenty years before the present to show how Jack Bryant and Walt Frazier met and bonded for life. I also had a prologue in THE INSANITY PLEA. In retrospect, I could just as easily called it Chapter One.
3. Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue. Leonard’s advice is that said is far less intrusive than grumbled, cautioned, gasped or lied. I agree, although I reserve the right to use different verbs to carry dialogue from time to time.
4. Never use and adverb to modify the verb “said.” I couldn’t agree more.
5. Keep your exclamation points under control. Leonard says no more than two or three per 100,000 words. I generally agree, but I might stretch is to four or five.
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters. Leonard uses Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” and asks what do the “American and the girl with him” look like? “She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.” That’s the only reference to a physical description in the story and yet we see the couple and know them by their tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight. My hat is off to Elmore.
9. Don’t go into great detail describing places and things. Personally, I don’t want to waste time to read as a character enters a room and there are paragraphs describing the carpet, the chairs and desk, the photos and diplomas on the walls and the doodads on the desk. I would just write, “It was a tastefully done home office.” The reader can fill in the blanks.
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip. This one is my favorite. Leonard says that readers will skip thick paragraphs of prose when the reader can see that they have too many words in them. He continues, “What the writer is doing, he’s writing, perpetrating the hooptedoodle, perhaps taking another shot at the weather, or has gone into the character’s head, and the reader either knows what the guy’s thinking or doesn’t care. I’ll bet you don’t skip dialogue.”
And Leonard’s summation is equally as important as Number 10: “If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”
I never met you, Elmore, but thanks for your words of wisdom. They make me a far better writer.
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