One of my great joys in life is reading. Murder mysteries are the novels I tend to enjoy most these days, especially ones with great dialogue. I prefer funny mysteries to the darker ones. I encounter enough darkness every day in what I do for a living. I do read the darker stuff and am a big fan of Michael Connelly, Robert Crais, Harlan Coban, and James Lee Burke among many others. And yet, I prefer novels that makes me laugh. Of course, when it comes to writing great dialogue, no one does it better in my view than Elmore Leonard.

My initial attraction to HBO and The Sopranos had to do with the writing. Those great actors are given wonderful dialogue. HBO’s Deadwood takes this to yet another level. The writing on Deadwood often has been likened to Shakespeare. Sometimes, the dialogue on the show is written in meter – iambic pentameter, to be exact, and that is, of course, splendidly Shakespearian. The meter is 10.10.10.10. Below is a little sketch I wrote for the Deadwood Boards. It features E. B. Farnum, a character played so well by William Sanderson, and his soliloquy is written in iambic pentameter. I hope you enjoy it.


(The Honorable E. B. Farnum, Mayor of Deadwood, walks along the thoroughfare in great pain.)

E. B.: “Where in the annals of recorded time, when in the history of all mankind, has there been one who has done so much good only to be ignored and vilified? Such is my fate as Mayor of this camp where I must tread through mud and piss and shit, message in hand like some goddamn servant to be delivered to Al’s muscle man. I, the Mayor of this benighted place, have overseen the Camp’s development, governed in ad hoc / temporary times, brought wealth and commerce and civility. And yet when I, our leading citizen, seek a physician’s care to ease my pain, he tells me that my tooth must be removed, ripped out of my mouth by his bloody hand. No, I tell him. Just give me laudanum. But, he refuses, betraying his oath. He tells me that extraction is my cure, treatment fit for a common vagabond. I tell him that I’ll get a ball of dope. He writes his message and dispatches me. Why must I endure such ignominy? Truly, life is but a valley of tears.”

(E. B. is now at the entrance to The Gem. He pauses.)

“Someday, I’ll resign from public office. Like Cincinnatus, return to the plow, or in my case to honest industry, and for a change, look after my own needs.”

(E. B. walks briskly into The Gem and without a word hands Dan Dority the note written by Doc Cochran. Dan unseals the envelope.

The note reads: Dan, as your Mayor, I must inform you that The Gem Saloon is a dump, Al Swearingen is an asshole, you are a cocksucker, and baseball is a stupid, fucking waste of time. Sincerely, E. B. Farnum, Mayor.

Moments later, E. B. awakens on The Gem floor. His jaw is swollen, but the infected tooth has been knocked out and is on the floor beside two other infected teeth on either side. Doc Cochran stands over E. B. looking down, and smiling.)