CHAT ROOM

by Rob Lopresti

1

“Hi, Velma.”

“Well, lookee who’s here. Hello, Bobby.”

“Bobby?”

“Short for Robert. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I don’t go by Bobby. I prefer Rob or Robert.”

“What’s wrong with Bobby?”

“Nothing, I suppose. It’s just not—”

“Bobby Sherman did okay. Bobby Goldsboro. Bobbie Gentry.”

“I’m pretty sure she spelled it differently.”

“Whatever. They all made a lot more money than you, Mister Lopresti. What brings you to Criminal Brief Headquarters? Normally we only see you when a check arrives. And that’s been, I don’t know, years?”

“Always a pleasure, Velma. Are any of the gang around?”

“Let me think. Just Leigh, I guess, and he can’t be disturbed. He says he’s working on a very important case.”

“Oh? What kind?”

“Bourbon, I think.”

“Did you just hear a rimshot?”

“Oh, a wiseguy. Why are you looking for one of the mob? Got some time that needs wasting?”

“Actually I wanted to discuss a short story with someone.”

“Well, these letters can wait another hour. Discuss it with me.”

“You?”

“Listen, Bobby. If I wasn’t such a sweet and easy-going woman—”

“Oh, boy.”

“—which I would have to be to put up with this madhouse, I would be insulted. You think because I’m a secretary I can’t discuss lit-ra-choor?”

“It’s not that. It’s—well. I thought you preferred old stories and this is new.”

“I can keep up, sweetie. Is that the masterpiece in your hot little hands?”

“Oh, right. It’s ‘Intent’ by Phil Lovesey, in the July issue of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine.”

“That’s some cover on EQ. A woman in a sexy slip and a a villain who looks like Vincent Price. I like it. Very hip.”

“Uh, actually, Velma, the cover is a reprint from 1953.”

“You have a point, Bobby?”

“Right. Lovesey’s story, which is terrific by the way, is told entirely in dialog. No narration.”

“And is that the first time it’s been done?”

“No, of course not. In fact, I wrote a story that way. It won a Derringer Award.”

“Congratulations.”

“Well, thanks. I was very pleased—”

“I wasn’t congratulating you for the award. I just thought it was slick how you slipped in the mention of the prize. It looked so natural.”

“Thanks, I guess. I know I have read other all-dialog stories, but none come to mind.”

“Why would anyone bother to write one that way?”

“I can think of a few reasons. Elmore Leonard said the reason his books are popular is he leaves out the parts people don’t read. And of course, everybody reads the dialog, don’t they?”

“So you mean people are interested in overhearing conversations? Readers are nosy.”

“Well, I guess you might put it that way. Also, it makes the stories shorter, more compact.”

“Don’t you get paid by the word, smart guy? So how is fewer words a good thing?”

“Hmm. Good question. I guess the answer is a more compact story is a better story, which is more likely to sell. Another plus for the all-dialog story is that you can hide something in it. Maybe one of the characters is not who the reader thinks he is, or the people are in prison, or something like that.”

“Didn’t you write a story in which some of the characters were figments of the main guy’s imagination?”

“That’s right. But it wasn’t all dialog. I just made sure that the only character whose actions were described was the one who was real. All we knew about the voices in his head was what they said.”

“Ooh! I can think of another advantage. Those stories ought to be easy to make into radio plays.”

“That sounds right. Of course, there isn’t a lot of that going on anymore. The funny thing is that the Midnight Mystery Players adapted two of my stories for radio, but they didn’t pick the all-dialog story.”

“Congratulations! You slipped that in so naturally—”

“Maybe I’ll go look for Leigh.”

“Hey, relax. Have some lunch and tell me why there aren’t more all-dialog stories, if they’re such hot stuff.”

“Are you sure there’s no one else here? Because this buffet seems to have been pretty well picked over.”

“Since none of you jokers seemed to be showing up I told the workmen to help themselves. They’re fixing the sauna.”

“I didn’t know we had a sauna.”

“It’s through that door at the far end of the gym. Not that you ever use the gym. Frankly, it wouldn’t hurt you—”

“One problem with an all-dialog story is it makes it really awkward to describe objects, or actions. Look at what we had to go through up above to tell the reader about the cover of the Ellery Queen.”

“That’s true, and it also means you haven’t had the chance to tell people how great I look in my leopard skin top, poodle skirt, and four inch heels.”

“Congratulations, Velma. The way you slipped that in—”

“Okay, Bobby. What are the other problems with going all-dialog?”

“Readers will get confused unless you can keep the voices very clear. Donald E. Westlake said that in almost every Perry Mason novel there’s a place where Erle Stanley Gardner gets mixed up and confuses Mason’s lines with Paul Drake’s. It can actually be a useful exercise to try writing without narrative and see how distinctive the voices are.””

“Thank God no one could mistake my snappy repartee with your mumbles.”

“Let’s hope not. How long has this mayo been out of the fridge?”

“You’re a tough guy, aren’t you? Just eat the sandwich.”

“Okay. Thanks for the fascinating discussion, Velma. I’ll be in my office, working on a case.”

“A case of what?”

“Probably indigestion.”

“Sorry, Bobby. No rimshot for you.”

1. cartoon by John Leech, Punch, 1843 [↩]