Elmore Leonard Quotes

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

Elmore Leonard's Ten Rules of Writing 1. Never open a book with weather. 2. Avoid prologues. 3. Never use a verb other than "said" to carry dialogue. 4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb "said”…he admonished gravely. 5. Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. 6. Never use the words "suddenly" or "all hell broke loose." 7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly. 8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters. 9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things. 10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip. My most important rule is one that sums up the 10. If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

My most important piece of advice to all you would-be writers: When you write, try to leave out all the parts readers skip.

Psychopaths... people who know the differences between right and wrong, but don't give a shit. That's what most of my characters are like.

"Wonderful things can happen", Vincent said, "when you plant seeds of distrust in a garden of assholes."

It doesn't have to make sense, it just has to sound like it does.

Listen, Stephen King used to write in the washroom of his trailer after his kids went to sleep. Harlan Ellison wrote in the stall of a bathroom of his barracks during boot camp. Elmore Leonard got up at 5 AM every morning to write before work. Every time my alarm goes off at 5 AM and I don’t want to get up, or I would rather sit down after work and play a videogame, I think about those guys. Take care of your family. They need you and love you. Make time for them. Then stop screwing around and finish your damn book.

Write the book the way it should be written, then give it to somebody to put in the commas and shit.

I spent most of my dough on booze, broads and boats and the rest I wasted.

Like Elmore Leonard and Donald Westlake and Robert B. Parker and oh so many others, I want to die with my boots on, facedown on my keyboard if possible, in the middle of a sentence.

I started out of course with Hemingway when I learned how to write. Until I realized Hemingway doesn't have a sense of humor. He never has anything funny in his stories.

I'm very much aware in the writing of dialogue, or even in the narrative too, of a rhythm. There has to be a rhythm with it … Interviewers have said, you like jazz, don’t you? Because we can hear it in your writing. And I thought that was a compliment.

Fate was working its ass off when it got us all together.

I always felt, you don’t have a good time doin crime, you may as well find a job.

And she thought if you don't have the desire to fight or wait for something there's no reason for being on earth.

A man can be in two different places and he will be two different men. Maybe if you think of more places he will be more men, but two is enough for now.

I can't allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative.

There were a lot of terms you had to learn, as opposed to the shylock business where all you had to know how to say was 'Give me the fuckin money.

There are cities that get by on their good looks, offer climate and scenery, views of mountains or oceans, rockbound or with palm trees; and there are cities like Detroit that have to work for a living, whose reason for being might be geographical but whose growth is based on industry, jobs. Detroit has its natural attractions: lakes all over the place, an abundance of trees and four distinct seasons for those who like variety in their weather, everything but hurricanes and earth-quakes. But it’s never been the kind of city people visit and fall in love with because of its charm or think, gee, wouldn’t this be a nice place to live.

You never know what somebody might tell you,' Chris said, 'when they think you're somebody else.

It's my attempt to remain invisible, not distract the reader from the story with obvious writing.

Don't go into great detail describing places and things, unless you're ­Margaret Atwood and can paint scenes with language. You don't want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.

But when you begin with bullshit the conclusion you reach is still bullshit.

Elmore Leonard famously said that a story is real life with the boring parts left out.

There’s something happening here, I know it. It’s right in front of my face, but I just can’t see it.

Avoid Prologues. They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword.

all over the world...the past was being wiped out by condominiums.

You thinkin bout the time I shot you and you rose from the dead? It only happens once in your life." He turned to Carol again and she said: "Were you actually aiming at his hat?" "I hit it didn't I?

Do you want me to tell you what I give a shit about at age sixty-five', Cullen said, 'and what I don't give a shit about?' (page 262)

when you're really cute that's all you have to be, you make a career out of it. someone asks you what you do, you say, 'nothing. i'm cute.

I don’t think writers compete, I think they’re all doing separate things in their own style.

She wondered what he looked like with his hat off and wondered again if he knew he was funny.

I thought I explained it to you. Boyd and I dug coal together.

The one thing Leonard won't tolerate is fancy prose. As he states in his 10 Rules of Writing: "If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

In the light of eternity, is it better to sell out and ride or stand up and walk?

I won't read a book that starts with a description of the weather. I don't read books over 300 pages, though I'll make an exception for Don Delillo.

Don’t interrupt a man when he’s giving himself hell.

He saw Harvey and Edgar catch each other's eye as he looked off toward the strains of "Alley Cat," Jesus, hoping they'd rush it faster than the others or he'd have to get out of here. It was the only song he knew that made him want to break something.

CHIEF LAMBIASE IS a frequent visitor to the store, and to justify these visits, he buys books. Because Lambiase doesn’t believe in wasting money, he reads the books, too. At first, he had mainly bought mass-market paperbacks—Jeffery Deaver and James Patterson (or whoever writes for James Patterson)—and then A.J. graduates him to trade paperbacks by Jo Nesbø and Elmore Leonard. Both authors are hits with Lambiase, so A.J. promotes him again to Walter Mosley and then Cormac McCarthy. A.J.’s most recent recommendation is Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories.

Leave out the parts that readers tend to skip.

Tony was a lawyer, so you had to accept the fact he was opinionated and full of shit.

The shots left a hard ringing sound within the closeness of the brick walls. Terry held the pistol at arm's length on a level with his eyes--the Russian Tokarev resembling an old-model Colt .45, big and heavy--and made the sign of the cross with it over the dead. He said, "Rest in peace, motherfuckers," turned, and walked out of the beer lady's house to wait at the side of the road.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it. Or, if proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can’t allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative.

I take many things seriously. Rudyard Kipling, Harper Lee, Oscar Wilde, and Elmore Leonard are all held in the highest regard. I am dead serious when I discuss the many reasons that Ernest Hemingway’s greatest contribution to literature was his generous decision to take his own life. I will not be sucked into a discussion of politics by people who prefer emotion to reason. The designated hitter is an abomination, and the day pitchers and catchers report is the start of the new year despite what those ill-informed calendar makers might try to tell you.” “I

You know, I think some people fear that if they like the wrong kind of book, it will reflect poorly on them. It can go with genre, too. Somebody will say, “I won’t read science fiction, or I won’t read young adult novels”—all of those genres can become prisons. I always find it funny when the serious literary world will make a little crack in its wall and allow in one pet genre writer and crown them and say, “Well Elmore Leonard is actually a real writer.” Or “Stephen King is actually a really good writer.” Generally speaking, you know you’re being patronized when somebody uses the word “actually

You’re going through your menopause and you thought you were in love.

I try to leave out the parts that people skip.

Quiet and calculating. He hasn’t changed that much since. Always mild-mannered, the nice guy—until someone steps over the line and challenges him.

He called out to no one in particular, "Fire in the Hole!

Yeah, ESP,” Juvenal said. “You know how you do it? You listen to the other person instead of thinking of what you’re gonna say next. That’s all, and you learn things.

A wife's faithful to her husband, subject to him. It's in the bible.

Boyd looked at him now like he was trying to decide something in his mind. “You’d shoot me, you get the chance?” “You make me pull,” Raylan said, “I’ll put you down.

I’ve learned if you’re ever angry enough to hit somebody, don’t do it. Cool down and get yourself a pistol.

A: Anyone who looks like she does has to be somebody... B: What does she look like? A: An ice cream. I had a spoon I would have eaten her.

The personality and the ego scream, while the soul whispers.

Raylan got ready.

Leave out the parts readers tend to skip. (Elmore Leonard) First you do it for the love of it, then you do it for a few friends, and finally you do it for money. (Moliere)

I try to leave out the parts that people skip. —Elmore Leonard

Elmore Leonard once said: “When you write, try to leave out all the parts readers skip.

You know what people who go to nude beaches look like?" "Tell me." "People who shouldn't go to nude beaches." "Is Chili Palmer joining the tour?' "I wasn't told" "Ask Nick for me." About a minute went by. Now he heard Nick saying, "Tell him if he goes near Chili Palmer I'll see that he suffers excruciating pain and will never fucking walk again in his life." And, then Robin's voice: "Nick said to tell you that if you go near Chili Palmer he'll have your legs broken." "Why couldn't he say it like that?" "He reads, but the wrong books.

He sat in the living room in the dark, an expert at waiting, a nineteen-year veteran of it, waiting for people who failed to appear, missed court dates because they forgot or didn't care, and took off. Nineteen years of losers, repeat offenders in and out of the system. Another one, that's all Louis was, slipping back into the life.

At the bottom of the hill they came out of the trees to a busy street and Antwan said, "We cross here." "Ain't no lights here," Antwan said. "Just look out for the ones trying to hit you. There's a nice-looking blonde-haired female human lives around here - any time she sees me she tries to run me down.

knew where they were and was sure of it even before he

She said very quietly, “Mitch?” “What?” “There’s somebody downstairs.” “I know there is.

She liked to argue, especially with people who were serious about weird ideas they swore were true.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it

Come on up to Riv’era Beach and say those things, you be dead.

You look back,’ Max said, ‘you can’t believe that much time went by. You look ahead and you think, shit, if it goes that fast I better do something with it

What you’ll have to do now is ride the rap, as they say. It’s all anybody has to do.

Don’t go into great detail describing places and things… You don’t want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.

All the information you need can be given in dialogue.

If you're going to spend your life standing on principle, you want to be sure everyone understands what the principle is.

He walked back into the living room, looking again at the illuminated photo of the man with the brown beard and long hair. “Who’s that, a friend of yours?” Mr. Sweety glanced over. He said, “This picture here?” and sounded surprised. “It’s Jesus. Who you think it was?” “It’s a photograph,” Raymond said. Mr. Sweety said, “Yeah, it’s a good likeness, ain’t it?

Well, does it make sense to you?" He said, "It doesn't have to, it's something that happens. It's like seeing a person you never saw before - you could be passing on the street - and you look at each other..." Karen was nodding. "You make eye contact without meaning to." "And for a few moments," Foley said, "there's a kind of recognition. You look at each other and you know something." "That no one else knows," Karen said. "You see it in their eyes." "And the next moment the person's gone," Foley said, "and it's too late to do anything about it, but you remember it because it was right there and you let it go, and you think, What if I had stopped and said something? It might happen only a few times in your life." "Or once," Karen said.

That’s right, you got a divorce. You remarried— what about your present husband?” “He died last year.” “You go through ’em,” Nicolet said. “What kind of work did he do?” “He drank,” Jackie said.

What is it with you and Nazis?” “They fun to watch,” Ordell said. “Look at the flag they got, with the boogied-up lightning flash on it. You can’t tell if it’s suppose to be SS or Captain Marvel.

the one they used to call Club Fed. No fence, no guys with shanks or razor blades stuck in toothbrush handles. The worst that could happen to you, some guy hits you over the head with a tennis racquet.

Louis shook his head. “I don’t know.” “What’s that?” “About going with you.” “You don’t think you will or you know it?” Louis shrugged and drew on his cigarette. “I said before I ain’t talking you into anything. But just answer me this, Louis. What does a three-time loser have to lose?” He started to back out of the drive and stopped. He said, “Louis? You only think you’re a good guy. You’re just like me, only you turned out white.

The Sierra Madre was like the sea, he thought. Both of them deathless, monotonously eternal, and so indifferent in their magnitude that either could accept the dust of all the world’s dead and not have the decency to show it in posture.

That was the essence of the good feeling: to be able to remain calm and relax while he was keyed up and confident. Never panic. Never run. Face whatever had to be faced. Be practical, reasonable, up to a point. And if reason doesn’t work, get up and kick it in the teeth. Whatever the problem is.

That goddamn Louis, you see what he done? Put his cigarette butt in here. I’m gonna punch him right in his smokin’ mouth.” Max turned back to the form, glades mutual casualty printed across the top. He said, “I know how you feel. But when you hit an ex-con who’s done three falls, they say you better kill him.

I'll give you something else to think about. Not very long ago he shot and killed a man and did it deliberately, at close range. What I'm saying is he intended to kill the guy and he did." Again the silence before Chip said, "Come on, he told you that?" "I felt it in his hand," Dawn said. "The one that held the gun.

She said, "Coming across the yard you had your hat off, but as you reached the door you put it on." "I guess I did, didn't I?" "You were being...I want to say official, and your hat's like a badge of office. You like to set it forward a little, close over your eyes." "I've had that hat eight years," Raylan said. "I never thought I wore it any special way, I just put it on my head.

See, there was the hard way to do things and there was the easy way. The hard way looked good at the time; in fact, it looked like the only way. But it upset your stomach and could break your knuckles. It produced blind spots that could mess you up and cause pain, not to mention losing your ass. The easy way required thinking and remaining cool. Not standing-around cool, but authentic genuine cool. Cool when you wanted to smash something or break down a door. No, hold it right there. Think on how to do it the easy way. Then turn the knob gently and the door opens.

Whatever women do, they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult.” CHARLOTTE WILTON Mayor of Ottawa, 1963

The Zip was quiet, maybe trying to guess what was in Raylan's mind. He seemed curious. Finally he said, "Okay, what do you want to tell me?" "Here's the deal," Raylan said. "I'm giving you twenty-four hours to get out of this county and never come back." Raylan looked at his watch. "That means you have until...two-fifteen tomorrow afternoon to clear out. If I see you're still around after that, I won't hesitate to shoot you on sight. You have any questions?

You take one more step," Raylan said, "I'll shoot you. That's all I'm gonna say.

You know but don't want to let on," Raylan said, seeing Nicky's hands right there at his waist, the boy still in the game, "waiting to see if you have a move. Well, I'll tell you something. Shooting at a person is not the same as shooting out on a firing range. Even if you're a dead shot, it don't mean you can look a man in the eye and be able to pull the trigger. I know this for a fact, partner, cause I taught the use of firearms at the training academy.

He said to Dale Crowe Junior, "I know you think you can drive when you've had a few. How good are you when you're sober?" This marshal not sounding like the usual hard-ass lawman; Dale Junior was glad of that. He said, "I had a Caddy myself one time, till I sold it for parts and went to work at Disney's. You know what I tried out for? Play Goofy. Mickey Mouse's friend? Only you had to water-ski and I couldn't get the hang of it. Sir, I like to mention that these three years since I took off? I been clean. I never even left the state of Florida all that time, not wanting to be too far away from my folks, my old mom and dad, except I never did get to see them." The marshal, Raylan Givens, said, "If you're gonna talk I'll put you in the trunk and I'll drive.

Man, I'm the caretaker. He's staying while he does the work and I help him out some." "What's your name?" "Louis Lewis." "You putting me on?" "It's my name. You want me to spell it out for you?

Whether you’re faking one or the other it isn’t worth the state you get yourself in.

Time lost its meaning after a while and became only something that dragged hope with it as it went nowhere. Sometime

I want you to look at somebody here’s come to visit you.” Jackie watched the young guy scowl as Nicolet shook him again and his eyes opened.

Sometimes the fear was stronger than the anger. The plain was silent and in its darkness there was nothing to hold to.

Michigan authors. Jim Harrison, Elmore Leonard, Donald Goines, Terry McMillan, Loren Estleman.

Has anybody ever spoke kindly to them? I mean has anybody ever helped them overcome the hold the devil’s got on them? Has anybody ever showed them the path of righteousness, or explained to them Almighty God’s justice and the meaning of everlasting salvation

A good investigator doesn’t know what he’s looking for till he sees it.

You get out,” Foley said, “you’re free, they can’t deport you?” “Fidel won’t take us back.” “You glad you came to America?” “I’m grateful for the ways they are to improve myself since I come to La Yuma. I respect how justice wears a blindfold, like a fucking hostage.

Part of Creation. Back at the beginning of time you got your mud people, referred to as beasts ’cause they don’t have souls. Okay, Adam jumped Eve and she begat Abel, the beginning of the white race as God intended. But then Satan in the form of a snake jumped Eve. She begat Cain and things got out of hand. Cain began fucking mud people, the women, and out of these fornications came the Edomites. And you know who the Edomites are?” “Tell me.” “The Jews.