If you’ve finished reading and considering the lesson in Stage 2-d, “Run-on or Compound,” you now understand that “not all long(ish) sentences are created equal.”
The first and, to me, foremost division of “longish sentences” simply classifies them as either ineffective (awkward, pretentious, and/or unclear) or effective (smooth flowing, enjoyable, and meaningfully clear).
I will remind you of my stern, if not harsh, criticism of sadly uninformed “writing authorities” of any type, title, or motive (such as sales) who proffer the bad advice to “keep your sentences short and ‘to the point’ always.”
Their stated stance? Readers are too dumb to process more than the simplest text. Their actual stance? “Since we’re not really teaching you anything beyond the obvious and/or trivial, keep your sentences short so it will be less conspicuous to others that you learned so little for dealing with us” (at whatever cost, small or large).
A different kind of “diversity”?
In starkest contrast, I am working to help you learn that striving for sentence variety (and achieving it, as your skill grows from the effort and experience) brings many rewards not available to the unskilled and uninformed who hide their lack of confidence and knowledge behind the mantra, “short sentences only.”
Furthermore, I make the even-rarer call for some sentences of yours to show off your authorial skill in the form of an occasional sentence of sizable length, even 100+ words, once you gain the skills.
As I, myself, emphasized in the prior lesson (Stage 2-d), nobody wants to wade through a long, cluttered, and unclear sentence. Neither do many readers appreciate the choppy and bumpy ride of exclusively short sentences. But a longish (or just plain long!) sentence that flows with both style and clarity? Well placed, in the mix, that sentence can win the day. To those who prize diversity, I say, wonderful. Start with your own sentences.
Before we get started with our close look at how to correctly compose compound sentences, here’s this lesson’s pre-quiz.
Some of these items mimic those of the pre-quiz for the prior lesson. I wonder if that experience will aid you this time.
If not, the text that follows this quiz surely will clear up this crucial understanding, for the writer (you, I hope) who aims higher than “short sentences only and always – they’re safer.”
Let’s see how you do. As always, I am making these items fairly tricky, to help diffentiate “close” from “there” and to set the agenda for the lesson to follow.
This quiz no longer existsWhether you bombed the quiz — or aced it — let’s move to the two main options for joining main clauses correctly. With this understanding mastered, right down to the nuances, you will avoid the run-on (two MCs not properly joined) in favor of a correct compound sentence.
You want correctness, yes, but you also want the benefit of composing your compound sentence for “best effect,” among your various correct options. That’s where understanding each option’s nuances comes in. AI can join MCs correctly, but it can’t choose for you which of several correct options will work the best for your desired emphasis, impact, and flow.
When teaching these options, as I have done for over 30 years — voluminously — I like to break these “legal” options into two categories that I created for the purpose of clarity and ease of learning.
I call these two categories (for legal ways to handle — or coordinate — multiple MCs in a sentence) 1) purposeful and 2) intentional.
Intentional techniques for this job include just two grammatical options and a third possibility, as you will learn in detail just below.
Accidental techniques for joining multiple MCs in a single sentence include additional options that are legal, “by accident.” That is, these approaches are not primarily aimed at this job, but at some other effect of grammar and punctuation, yet they can join MCs legally.
That is, these “accidental” techniques may not require MCs on both sides, but they’re fully legal even if the two parts being connected happen to stand as MCs, meaning that they include (as you should be able, by now, to recite in your sleep!) both a subject and that subject’s predicate.
We’ll start with the two purposeful methods of legally joining MCs into a correct compound sentence, the semicolon and the combination of comma-plus-coordinating-conjunction (i.e., a comma plus a conjunction known for inclusion in the “FANBOYS” mnemonic device (memory aid).
Compound sentences: Intentional Technique #1: the semicolon (;)
So that’s why God invented the semicolon! Okay, maybe it wasn’t God’s work, but Somebody had to do it, else the (English-speaking) world would totally lack a punctuation mark that almost nobody truly understands. Congratulations, Reader-student; now, you do! Aren’t you glad? I am.
And don’t say you already understood semicolons, unless you were prepared to explain them like this: Semicolons link — with certain conjunctions optional — multiple main (or “independent”) clauses in a compound sentence.
First, the semicolon’s secondary purpose
Please note, while we’re on the subject, that semicolons also serve, occasionally, a secondary function — beyond their primary role as MC joiners.
Namely, they help to keep separate and distinct “unwieldy“ items in a series, when those items, themselves, include commas (or other “internal” punctuation – meaning that punctuation comes inside the listed items, themselves), such that separating these complex items by using additional commas might cause confusion.
I’ll digress (from our present topic, compound sentences) with a quick example of this secondary use of the semicolon.
Example: A successful baseball team needs four things: consistent batting, including for power; consistent pitching, both righties and lefties; consistent defense, including great arms in the outfield; and, most importantly, correct use of semicolons, though I jest on this last requirement (it couldn’t hurt!).
See how easy? You now know the secondary use of the semicolon. Let’s get back on track with compound sentences.
A longer pause?
For another touch of humor here, I’ll share the little quip I often offered to my students at this very moment of the semester. I’d say that many under-informed writers misunderstand the comma as something that can be plunked wherever the writer “desires a pause.” They think, therefore, that commas are “for a pause.” And semicolons? Those are for . . . “a longer pause” (rimshot on the snare: bada bing).
No, you can’t just plunk a comma anywhere you think a pause would help – though it’s true that a comma does tend to cause the reader to pause the flow of word intake. Commas do create pauses, but so do a lot of writing techniques – such as the dash I just used.
In grammatical actuality, commas have many proper (sometimes optional) homes in sentences, but they can’t just be plunked any old place. In fact, in some places (such as precisely where the subject meets the predicate) they are generally prohibited (even if the writer wants a pause there). We’ll get to that lesson later. Right now, we are demystifying the semicolon; aren’t you glad?
Should I follow my semicolon with a “conjunctive adverb”?
What a great question! I’m so glad you asked. Lots of writers do this every time. I think it’s because they have seen these in print (so it’s likely correct) and infer that such “connective tissue” as therefore and however necessarily belong right after the semicolon. However, truly, the “conjunctive adverb” (CA) is optional. Such writers likely have never even heard of the “conjunctive adverb,” but they do observe the common ones following semicolons; therefore, they (as I just showed) emulate that construction every time. That’s how and when they use semicolons. Always, they are followed by a CA (however and therefore, the most common) and then a comma; however, I don’t advise such limitation.
So how does the “conjunctive adverb” function? These inserted words add clarity to the “logical connection” of the two MCs that the writer has decided to keep together in the one sentence, though each could have stood alone as its own sentence.
Check out these examples of conjunctive adverbs, and notice how they denote different relationships between the two MCs they help connect: however, therefore, furthermore, incidentally, likewise, meanwhile, thus, and the ever-popular nevertheless.
This list includes just a few (maybe a quarter) of the available CAs. If you want to see a longer list, just “google” it. That’s what sites like Grammarly are good for. They will never teach you to write, but they do make good reference sources for specific things like “a list of conjunctive adverbs“).
Well, should you follow your semicolons with conjunctive adverbs (CAs) or not?
Let me clarify this first option (the semicolon) for joining two MCs into one compound sentence by pointing out that whether or not to include a conjunctive adverb (like therefore) comes down to this “writer’s choice“:
Do I like the clarity and flow of the added “helper word” – or do I feel that my two MCs go together perfectly clearly without that “help” and I like the “punchy sound” of just the semicolon there, with no helper. Using your eyes and your ears, both, compare these two possibilities: 1) He showed up late; thus, he lost his opportunity; 2) He showed up late; he lost his opportunity.
Both are grammatically correct; the choice depends upon immediate context, desired effect, and personal style. Therefore, using a CA after a semicolon is up to you; please, make this a conscious choice; don’t leave it to chance; now, you know; moreover, now you have a new tool in your writer’s toolbox. Get it? Got it.
Warning: Don’t confuse the conjunctive adverb
with the subordinating conjunction!
Crucially, when desiring this type of conjunction (the CA) do NOT mistakenly use another type of conjunction that specifically serves to “subordinate” (sometimes I use the word demote) the main clause to lesser (sub-ordinate) status, because then, the semicolon would become incorrect, since it no longer connects TWO main clauses (with the second one demoted).
When inserting a “subordinating” conjunction – such as although, because, if, and then – after the semicolon, you indeed demote/subordinate the second MC. Therefore, you no longer have two MCs there, making the semicolon incorrect – or, as I like to say, “superfluous.” It’s now too much (now that you demoted the second MC). Some other examples of these dastardly subordinators include as, after, whenever, since, until, while, along with some multiple-word cases, such as in order to or rather than.
As you might have noticed, these subordinators usually indicate one of three factors: timing (when I get home . . .), causality (because I got home . . .), or some “condition” (“if I get home . . .”).
I’m sure you can now see how such a word – like if – demotes an otherwise main clause, turning it from main (or independent) to subordinate (aka dependent). One more time, “I get home” stands as a main clause (hence, it could stand as a complete sentence); however, “if I get home” has now been demoted (hence, it can no longer stand alone as a sentence – that’s why we now call it dependent!). Get it?