Stage 2-c: The proper length of a sentence

As you know by now, I cherish authenticity — such that things you say could have been said by you, only.

For example, just to show my own authenticity, including my poetic leanings, I might re-arrange those opening eight words like this: “As you, by now, know, I cherish authenticity . . .” (hear the diff?).

With small effort, I could even move the mobile phrase “by now” to the start: “By now, you know that I cherish authenticity.” Or I could hold off on it until the end: “I cherish authenticity, as you know by now. Fun with words! Which effect do I like best? Which suits my intentions?

Now, if I were writing a poem (otherwise worded as “were I writing a poem . . .” — but doesn’t that sound a bit stuffy?), I might skip the commas around “by now,” maybe even stick in a hyphen, more for fun than need, and rearrange some words, like this:

As you by-now know

authenticity, I cherish

Since I’m composing this post you’re reading as an essay, not a poem (even if mildly poetic — I said if!), I’ll skip those contortions (italics, too) and go back to the version with the commas. It’s still unique (maybe authentic), but not over the top — see? “As you, by now, know, I cherish authenticity.”

So where was I?

See what happens when you allow poetry into the discussion! Seriously, that’s one benefit of writing — it’s easy to find your place after a digression. In fact, if you decide against keeping the digression, poof — it’s gone. That one above, I’m keeping. Sometimes the digressions are better than the main track!

Oh yeah, I was getting you all ready to understand why the advice (whether free or costly) you can acquire, as regards our present topic of “proper sentence length” can, regardless of the up-front charges, cost you plenty, not only in authenticity but in results.

So let’s get started with our customary pre-quiz, to help you determine 1) what you might already know, with a little luck and 2) what you soon will know, with certainty.

Pre-quiz, Stage 2-c,

on Proper Sentence Length

Remember, we want to maintain, in our writing, a sense (as we wish, from mild to strong) of intentionality. We like to express ourselves authentically, but that’s in support of our intentions — why we are writing, in the first place.

We seek outcomes — maybe emotional, maybe functional, often both — and we want to seek them from a place of authenticity (our real, growing, selves, which does imply openness to new information and ideas).

And, by staying authentic in our outcome-related interactions, we stay ever-more open to what others want, too, since we are not binding our authentic “discursive identity” to a made-for-us group identity! Those are harder to flex. The group need is rigid; ours — our own — can bend, so as not to break.

So what is the proper length of a sentence?

Quite often I would get asked, toward the beginning of my writing courses this very question: “How long should a sentence be?” I would usually reply with this rhetorical question: “Well, how big should a house be?”

To bring in our present metaphor, I might ask, “How big should a stepping stone be? I guess that would depend on what you’re stepping over, and where you aim your foot to land, now wouldn’t it?

Our metaphor sees meaning as sometimes a mucky mire to make it through. Picture yourself, stepping along a mucky stretch of trail, as you make your way through today’s little path, within the larger forest of life.

Watch your step!

The path of meaning can get muddy, challenging, and even gross, but there are some decent places to step, if you’re careful and also strategic. Sometimes you have to plan two or three steps at a time. Now, you are watching where every footstep should fall. Now, you are paying attention. Stepping along in some uniform (pre-trained and/or proper) way would make no sense. Each step, a proposition of its own. It’s the same with sentences.

Sometimes you need choppy, little steps. And here and there you take some customary, let’s say medium, steps, as the path might dictate. And you’ll also need to make an occasional leap, maybe from a small stone onto a great big one, then back down to some little ones. You maintain momentum, going forward and keeping upright, as you step, hop, jump, and skip along, honoring the path’s influences, yet making your “way” your own way.

A lot depends on where you started and where you want to go. And you might even change your mind on your destination, as the path unfolds and you learn, step by step (sentence by sentence), more and more about your path and your options. Whether hiking or writing, you learn as you go, and every step plays a unique role in the expedition.

What color are your hiking boots?

Extending my metaphor further, I might poke fun at the analogous question, what is the proper color for hiking boots? I’m sure that there’s some “expert” out there who just “knows” the one correct color for hiking boots (OMG — better not be mere hiking shoes!), regardless of one’s tastes or terrain.

No other color will do! And the reason for that — should you ask — will come to you . . . “as brief as possible.”

It’s all so simple . . .

For the rest of us (not simple by default), life is full of texture — not shallow, but endlessly deep, though we are happy to frolic at the surface much of the time. But other times (as AI terminology reminds us), we need a deeper dive.

The “simple types” who tend to only skim the surface (after all, it is their main law: the surface is plenty deep) can never access certain necessary resources — not to mention chanced-upon treasure — that await the “deeper diver” (into meaning). Simplicity can delight, in many art forms and even science. But there’s also room, in both arenas, for carefully constructed complexity. I’m calling for variety, not all one or the other.

Some desirable things do float by on the surface. Be ready with your net! But most of the surface goodies have already been scooped up. If you want treasure, you often must explore (water and life) beneath the surface.

So please ignore any and all advice from the numerous (sadly, this bad advice is trendy, as of late) and simplistic sources spouting the empty-calorie advice that other simple minds gobble up like so many hot dogs — I mean, with relish! That is, both learner and teacher relish the idea that writers should (or must) “keep all sentences short.” These grammatical hot dog vendors pretend that they are serving up caviar — and simplicity does hold the advantage of not requiring a lot of special skill. Anyone can make a hot dog.

Well, fussy eater than I am, can I at least get some cheddar on that dog? And I’ll take one regular and one foot-long. The vendors at the ballpark “get it.” People like variety. Why can’t today’s typical writing coaches (real or artificial) get it? Nobody wants a short, plain, hot dog, all the time, every time.

Well, there is a time and place for the cocktail weenie! But we don’t want cocktail weenies, only, every time, with every dish, now do we? I don’t. And some pickles would be nice, too, especially if they’re “just right” for the bun! I don’t want my hot dogs” one size fits all.” I want “just right for the bun!”

Same goes for my metaphor of sentences as “stepping stones” to get me (and, hence, my reader) safely and enjoyably from here to there — and sometimes to somewhere even better than the writer’s original intent!

While hopping from stone, to rock, to boulder, we can get up high enough to see an even better destination! To mix my metaphor, it’s hard to hike up to the privileged view, while subsisting on a diet of cocktail weenies (and “properly” short sentences).

Know thy purpose — and thine audience!

I will not abandon my intentionality (my original goal), but I will learn along the path — of writing. And, along the way, each sentence will come in (and go out) at the just-right length — as I shall deem, at the time, and as I’ll confirm (or alter) in my “revision” (pre-proofreading!) stage — both very important, when the writing matters! (To me, it always does. I hope that soon you’ll come to feel the same way.) I learn as I write — and each deliciously varied sentence helps, along the way.

I will, of course, strive (as always) to know my audience; if I know that my reader holds a (simplistic) bias against longer sentences, I’ll surely keep mine shorter than I otherwise might — well, most of them. Even simpletons can be shown the light; just don’t blind them with more than a flicker at a time. They’re used to the relative brightness of a lit match. Be careful with the lights.

The path, along the way to understanding, a path that the writer both follows and makes, requires a diversity of stepping stones — including size — and I’ll adapt, one sentence at a time.

I writer, I am. A simpleton, I am not. And neither are you — or you would not still be reading — it’s a self-check! Are you still reading? Great. You pass. Now, keep going! You are getting somewhere! Where? Hmmm. Good question. I love when you ask those.

Not just a cheesy compliment

Speaking of laying on the cheddar, I heartily congratulate you — in sincerity and also validity — on your fellow status as a non-simpleton. We’re two of a kind!

I have faith that you, Reader-student, will see my point, aided by my metaphorical visuals, even though many (if not all) grammar/writing-oriented sources — online, in print, or in the classroom (!) — advise that sentences be kept as short as possible.

If you’ve made it this far — and safe to say, you have! 🙂 — you’re ready to understand that “experts” in the English/Grammar/Writing business have everything to gain by saying “keep your sentences short.” If I knew that I were not really teaching “how to write sentences,” I would advise the same thing. Shorter is easier. Shorter takes less skill. Shorter prevents errors among the unskilled.

If your writing teacher is Grammarly (etc.) or holy AI, itself, then you will scarcely gain skill. So, yes, if those are your teachers, do keep your sentences short! It’s great advice for the unskilled writer.

But these are skills I know that you can learn, because you are still reading. Let’s see you get out of that one! 🙂

You can learn to write excellent and effective sentences of any length, from one word to one hundred — or more. Personally, I will try to “rein it in” if/when I get to 200, but, FYI, I, personally, hold to no set maximum. I can and do teach these skills, and I am doing it right now! So just keep on a-readin’ and a-learnin’. I know you have it in you.

. . . because “YOU’re worth it”

It’s not just a cheesy compliment, like the kind I love to mock in advertisements that say (to any and every person in their “target market”), “You ‘deserve‘ our higher-priced product — because you are worth it.” It cracks me up, and I might answer the TV, “Finally! Somebody has noticed my awesomeness. And, to think, it’s the TV! However did it know that I do deserve 100-percent leakproof tampons! Bless its heart, the TV could see it from a mile away!”

Kidding (and BS) aside, I do feel certain that anyone (namely you) who would read this far, into this material (hence passing the qualifying test unneeded by the TV), deserves praise for your evident desire to stretch and grow in your understanding of the very language by which you create and share meaning.

I have laid out some unusual credentials (in About Mike). I mean to challenge you with every sentence I write, to you and for you. I don’t get to teach you face to face, including assigning, receiving, and responding to essays of your own. I have to pull out every trick I have, and I do have a few!

And one of them is giving credit where it’s due. So thank you for making it this far. Get ready to to take the next step (in Stage 2-d: Run-on or Compound?“), where you will learn specific rules, techniques, and options, for writing sentences that surpass the necessary essence of subject and predicate (hot dog and bun?).

Bottom line on sentence length

I hope my stepping-stones metaphor succeeds in characterizing that the “proper sentence length” depends upon many factors, including some of personal style and others, including factors of clarity, completeness, and impact. All these can aid in achieving your intentions.

A sentence too short, for example, might leave out the most important details — in the name of worshipped “brevity.” Brief and simple, the sentence may have been, but who cares, if it proved ineffective?

Above all — or should I say, below all, as in foundationally, on the matter of “proper” sentence length, I urge you to place top priority on one quality: as requires both the tricky path and your creative impulses, use, as your ideal for sentence length, appropriate variety.