Photo by Daniel Borris for The New York Times
As my 200th blog post approached, I noticed the counter increasing: 195, 196, 197. Less than a week ago I wrote my 199th blog, to a stunning audience of around eight. Maybe ten. Okay, that’s not true; the site that day and since has had a few hundred hits (which means likely a few hundred web travelers wondering “how the hell did I end up here?”).
And then I was under the gun. What fun, carnival-like giveaway or tomfoolery should I present for my 200th effort? Nothing morose or serious or God-forbid, grammatical. Then my wife told me this morning that Elmore Leonard had died. I knew he was sick—a stroke, I believe, not more than a few weeks ago—but I never imagined today would be the day I heard “Elmore Leonard is dead.”
I cut my teeth on his 10 Rules of Writing. I loosely based my own book later in life on what I’d learned and including 2-3 of his pearls of wisdom. An article today in the New York Times really summed it up best—his writing style, that is, and why it was so damned sharp, and to the quick:
“Reviewing ‘Riding the Rap’ for The New York Times Book Review in 1995, Martin Amis cited Mr. Leonard’s ‘gifts — of ear and eye, of timing and phrasing — that even the most indolent and snobbish masters of the mainstream must vigorously covet.’”
They did, those snobbish masters. And Leonard himself spat down from above for the use of the adverb “vigorously” when “covet” alone would have done much more simply.
Leonard taught me “to Hell with literature” if it was to mean seventeen pages about a flower blooming. He amazed me with his sparse and effortless dialogue. He wrote the way people speak, and not only was he unafraid to do so, it made his characters breath on the page before you. Many (including himself) believe his household celebrity didn’t arrive fully until the movie Get Shorty, a cinematic version of his 1990 novel, hit the silver screen in 1995 (even though Leonard had written over 25 novels before that one AND managed to pick up an Edgar for Best Novel along the way in 1984 for La Brava).
Many who have enjoyed his urban Mystery novels in the 1990’s and 2000’s are unaware that he really began writing Westerns in the 1950’s. His characters then were my kind of heroes and villains, men with names like Cundo Ray and Nestor Soto—not Westerns as in John Wayne or Clint Eastwood but rather crime novels set in the scrub and sagebrush of the border country along the Mexican border.
One of his greatest—3:10 to Yuma—was twice made into a movie. I’ve not seen the first, but the second, with Russell Crowe and Christian Bale, is one of my Top 10 movies of all time.
This morning when my wife gave me the news, I thought “I’ll write my 200th blog as a tribute to E.L.” and then I opened my email and saw that my cohort from across the pond, author Nick Stephenson, had beat me to the punch with his own blog honoring the man and sharing the “10 Rules of Writing”.
Then I thought I shouldn’t write about Leonard.
But how could I not? Between John D. MacDonald, Elmore Leonard, and the interminable James Lee Burke, I feel I learned how to write. Now two are gone, and when I was blessed to meet JLB last fall, I was struck by how old he’d suddenly become.
When our heroes die, some immeasurable piece of the heroic part in us goes with them.
“Rest In Peace” is too cliché for you, Elmore.
Rest in worlds without exclamation points or adverbs, Master Leonard, and may the angels speak only in “said”.
Shucks. Cool guy.
He was. And talented. 87 is a good life, though, particularly with his prolific success. Thanks for the comment, Virginia. 🙂
It’s extremely difficult to write anything memorable about one’s heroes and mentors. I won’t even try. All you can do is be honest and relay the events as they happened, which you have done beautifully. RIP, Elmore Leonard. You truly made a difference.
Jo! Rumors of your departure from Rob on Writing were premature! 😉 I thought I’d lost you. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been called “kiddo”?
It is impossible to sum up the life of someone so instrumental in one page. As I mentioned above, 87 is a pretty good run. I’d take it (if I could be as successful and influential). Thanks for the comment, lady!
I know it’s been awhile, kiddo!! But I never forget those who love me like I love them. I am forever thankful for your support, darlin’!! I’m trying to get back to the action on a daily basis now….been a couch potato for too damned long!!
Life has been busy pummeling me as of late, so I totally understand. I’m just glad to see you back at the blog!! 🙂 Your chair at the roundtable has been kept clean and tidy.
I never met Elmore and now I never will, but, he’s not gone. Not as long as I’m here.
Thanks for the tribute.
Thanks for the comment, amigo. I feel the same. One thing about writers—those who taught us one thing or the other—not only does their writing live on in their own books but an ancillary part of them branches out and lives in the writers’ books they influenced. And E.L. influenced a many.
I, too, regret the reason, but it is only appropriate that Elmore Leonard should be your 200th blog. You had great words to write about a great author. And we are all bolstered by the fact that Elmore did not have a best seller until he reached 60, and his early novel, The Big Bounce, received 84 rejections before somebody took a chance on him and his work. His art as a writer evolved over the years, which should be a lesson to us all.
Well put. I was just telling another writer something similar today. Too many people didn’t even know who he was until he was halfway through his career (and had already influenced the likes of writers as you, and I, and many others). He was still putting out a book a year, or darn close to it. A true craftsman. Attentive to the word and, more importantly, to the power in the lack of it.
What a lovely tribute for your 200th – recognizing the gifts of another writer! Congrats and well-done!
Thank you, Bruce. He was one of the greats, inspiring a younger generation not to forget about attention to the craft. He’ll be missed.
I appreciate your commenting. Best to you and yours. 🙂
I was also very sorry to hear of Elmore Leonard’s passing. You did him justice with this tribute to his life. I am glad I was able to read this.
I really appreciate the comment. Leonard will be missed in the literary world but perhaps most by those of us that learned from him. Of course that could easily be argued by those who simply love his work. 🙂
I loved him, pure and simple – read everything he wrote and believed everything he said. When I heard he’d died, I took it personally. I cried. How often does that happen, with a stranger? Think of it, millions who never met Leonard loved him for his writing and felt personally the loss of its bright promise from the world. Thank you for an affecting commentary.
Hi, Paula—thanks for the heartfelt comment. I know exactly what you mean; I felt the same way. I suppose a person can only hope that they are a positive presence like that in people’s lives. Enough to affect them like that. He was more than a practitioner; he was a devoted follower of the craft. He touched us all because when he wrote, I believe he was offering parts of himself in the words.