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
#1. Writing with “intentionality” means making choices that . . . (select all correct responses)
Select all that apply:
#2. When a noticeably long sentence follows a relatively short one, the writer should . . . (select all correct responses)
Select all that apply:
#3. Writers should take care to keep sentences consistently on the shorter side (max length about 15 words) whenever . . . (choose only one of the options below)
Results
Good for you! You correctly answered at least two of the three items.
If you aced the quiz, you’re either extra knowledgeable or extra lucky.
Read on, to take any possible luck out of the equation!
Oh well, you flunked – so far.
You correctly answered either none or just one of the quiz items.
Take heart, you can try the quiz again, just by refreshing your screen.
Do it, to find out the correct responses, then read on to learn all about them – and more!
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.
It’s muddy and sometimes 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 (and “proper“) way would be a joke.
Sometimes you take choppy, little steps. And here and there you take some customary steps, as the path might dictate, and also an occasional leap, maybe from a small stone onto a great big one, then back down to some little ones, as your momentum helps you forward and you step along, honoring the path’s influences yet making your way your own.
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.
Extending my metaphor further, I might poke fun at the 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 shoes!), regardless of tastes or terrain. No other color will do! And the reason — should you ask — will come in “as brief as possible” and eminently (like their minds — it’s a match!) simple.
I hope my metaphor succeeds in characterizing that the “proper sentence length” depends upon many factors, including some of personal style and others 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 “brevity.” Brief and simple, it may have been, but who cares, if it proved ineffective?
It’s all so simple, to the lucky simpletons
For the rest of us (not simpletons), like 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 simpletons who 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, especially a skillful one.
So please ignore any and all advice from the numerous (since trendy, as of late) simpletons who go around spouting the same advice their own simple minds have gobbled up like a hot dog — I mean, with relish!
That is, they relish insisting that you must “keep your sentences short.” Well, for personal starters, can I at least get some cheddar on that dog? And make this one a foot-long. The vendors get it at Yankee Stadium! Why settle for less? Some pickles would be nice, too, if, size-wise, they fit just right! No, I certainly don’t need any one-size-fits-all pickles! Do you? Of course not.
Same goes for my stepping stones, through the mire of meaning, and same for my sentences, which, discursively, not only allow me to portray authenticty identity, but, even more importantly, get me (and, hence, my reader) from here to there — and sometimes to somewhere even better than my original intent!
I will not abandon my intentionality, but I will learn along the path — of writing. And, along the way, each sentence will come in (and go out) at the perfect 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 will, of course, strive (as always) to know my audience; if I know that my reader holds a (low-watt) bias against longer sentences, I’ll surely keep mine shortere than I otherwise might — well, mostly. 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 simplicity of darkness.
The path, along the way to understandind, which the writer both follows and makes, may require 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.
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!
Oh well, so much for individual authenticity. Just kidding. But we do share one useful trait: not being a simpleton. No simpleton would have made it this far, considering the diversity and complexity of the stepping stones I have set out for you along this tricky and, I hope, worthwhile path.
That’s why 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.
Writing longer sentences takes skill — skill that these “experts” don’t teach! Could they? That depends on the expert. Many that I have observed could not, because they don’t understand it, themselves. But these are skills I know that you can learn, simply, and convincingly, because you are still reading all this! Now, that’s a fact.
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 I 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.
It’s not just a cheesy compliment, like the kind I love to mock in advertisements that say (to anyone and everyone, “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! I do deserve 100-percent leakproof tampons! And you saw it from a mile away!”
I feel certain that anyone (namely you) who would read this far, into this material, 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.
Bottom line on sentence length
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, sentence variety.


