Stage 2-d: Run-on or compound?

Welcome back. In the prior post, labeled Stage 2-c, we explored – and, in some ways, exploded – the idea of any universally proper sentence length. I hope that essay helped you to take an interesting and useful step along our Stage 2 pathway.

We now move to the next lesson, Stage 2-d, where we build upon the idea that sentences can work great, in many ways, and at many lengths, from one word to hundreds or even thousands. True! That’s the overall aim of this second main “stage” of my System of Activated Writing: how and why to add to a sentence, beyond just its essence.

From two words to two hundred

That’s why we began this whole program by looking at the brief side of sentences – their essence: the team of subject and predicate.

Even a sentence of 100 words could be “grammatically reducible” to a two-word “kernel,” that is, the simple (one-word) versions of the S and P.  (If the long sentence showed multiple main clauses, the sentence would reduce to that same number of “kernels,” one per MC – get it?)

To give a brief example, the MC “My talented and courageous friend, Alex, rocked the pregame show in front of half the town” reduces to the kernel, “Alex rocked” (simple subject: “Alex”; simple predicate, aka main verb, “rocked“)

Review Pop Quiz!

Okay, I just “parsed” that example sentence down to its “kernel,” as I hope you understand. So here’s the quiz Q: What two words make the kernel of the sentence that I wrote, which includes my example sentence, just above the heading “Review Pop Quiz.“

Don’t read on, until you look back at my whole sentence and come up with your answer.

When you do, write it right here, in Sharpie, on your screen ________  _______. (Just kidding. I hope you didn’t already write it there.)

Have you settled on your two-word answer? Don’t cheat! Come up with an answer.

I think that some readers, but not all, will get it right. Is that you? Let’s find out.

To determine the kernel, let’s first, let’s consider the complete subject of my MC. The following words show this complete subject:

—–

the MC “My talented and courageous friend, Alex, rocked the pregame show in front of half the town”

—-

Yes, that is the “entity” that is doing, being, or having something, in that example sentence. So now we can strip away all the words except for the very-most-essential simple subject: in this case, it’s simply “MC.”

Even the word the, before MC, has a named role: it’s an “article” (like a or an – more on that elsewhere). Hence, the simple subject, stripped to one word, is “MC.”

Now, for the second “half” of the kernel, the simple predicate (aka main verb). To determine this, we must ask, just what is our simple subject, “MC,” doing, being, or having (whether in the past, present or future)?

Well, in its complete predicate form, our subject . . .

—-

reduces to the kernel, “Alex rocked”

—-

That’s the complete predicate, which we can now distill to the simple predicate (or main verb) of “reduces.”

There you have it. The answer to the review pop quiz now shows clearly: “MC reduces.”

But why stop at the “kernel”?

Every main clause includes its minimum, its kernel. We can either stop there (pretty rare, but occasionally a cool and potent move, as in “Things change”) or go on and add further substance, as we craft our present “stepping stone,” that is, our sentence. We can “add substance” in many ways, whether we’re adding description to our subjects and predicates or, quite differently, adding new “parts“ to the sentence.

Q: How many “parts” can a sentence have? A: How many rooms can a house have?

That’s an analogy I have used in class, for years. But I always added that making the house large, with lots of rooms, requires knowing how to build such a house, which requires more “engineering,” or else it might fall down or develop other problems . . . just like a sentence!

Then I would teach them the necessary sentence engineering, as you are learning, yourself, if you are putting in the mental effort. I am doing my best to hold your attention and clarify my system. You have to try, too.

In this next lesson, we will take a close look at one very common, important, and versatile method for adding substance to a sentence: adding a second main clause! We can add “lesser” parts, too. We’ll look at many options for that in lesson Stage 2-e, which follows this one.

But, for now and for reasons I’ll soon present, let’s focus on adding not a lesser, but an “equal” part to our sentence – namely, another sentence! More precisely, we can add another MC. It’s not really another sentence (though it could have been, since a main clause), it’s another MC (in our newly formed compound sentence).

Before we dig into the hows, whys, whens, and when-nots of this prospect, here’s a brief pre-quiz to check on what you might already know and also to preview where we’re going, here in Stage 2-d.

Well, how did you do? I’ll admit that I have used, in composing the questions and possible answers, very specific (you might say tricky) nuances of punctuation. Some of the “wrong” answers show only the minutest of errors. When you have read and studied the rest of this essay (Stage 2-d), you will gain the ability to spot even these minute errors, so as not to mistake them as correct, as you may have done just now, taking the quiz.

But more importantly (much more!), you will be able to compose correct, interesting, stylish, and effective compound sentences, while of course avoiding the errors that commonly crop up when writers write “longish” sentences, without actually knowing the rules you are about to learn.

One main clause makes a sentence “legal,” so why not just stop there?

Please re-read the heading just above. Do you notice that it not only hints at the possible use of multiple main clauses, it demonstrates that very construction, which we call, “simply” (that’s a pun!) the compound sentence.

And it shows a nifty variant of such, since it mixes a statement (i.e., a declarative sentence) with a question (i.e. an interrogative sentence) in the one compound sentence. That’s not very common, which, to my tastes, makes for a good reason to do it! Who (besides AI) wants to sound same-ol’ same ol’? I hope you don’t.

Let’s examine. See the two-word sentence there? We like sentence variety – and that can include some shorties, along with longer ones, such as compounds, the theme of this fourth essay in the Stage 2 series.

To say that the heading includes two main clauses – not just one, as (usually) required of any “complete sentence” – means that it includes two (or more!) pairs of subject-plus-predicate. Indeed, the heading right above this text does show two of these MC “pairs.”

Welcome to the “one-percenter” club!

First, we see the subject, “One main clause,” mated with its predicate, “makes a sentence legal.”

I use bold italics just above to distinguish the one-word simple subject and predicate from the other words that fill out the “complete” versions of S and P. Thusly, the two highlighted words constitute, as we have considered above, the MC’s so-called “kernel“: simply, in this case, “clause makes.” See it?

Recall, every sentence boils down to the kernel. (We could make all kinds of jokes about fried chicken, but let’s not.) The kernel serves as the “nuclear center” (just invented the term) of the sentence’s essence. We know all about the essence of a sentence, or its main clause; now we see the micro-essence: the kernel, inside it.

Since your every sentence – written or spoken – includes (or should) a kernel, don’t you think it helps both writer and speaker to understand this existential fact about their own utterances? Indeed, it cannot help but help.

I just made up that one, too. It could become a song: “She Couldn’t Help but Help.” Yes, it’s fun to invent things out of words. And I need to demonstrate some authenticity here and there, if I’m going to say that it matters in your writing.

Okay, we have examined the first main clause in the heading. Now, we can acknowledge the second MC (this one in question form): “why not just stop there?”

Pop Quiz! What two words make the kernel of this second MC just above?

Can you name this two-word kernel? This one’s a bit tricky. Write your answer on the back of your hand (no possible harm to your screen this time!), and compare your answer to the following explanation.

First, let’s recall that a command (i.e., an imperative sentence) – such as “Slow down!” – has, as its subject, “the implied you.” If we chose to state (not just imply) this command’s subject, we could write, “You – slow down!”

Get it? I think you do. Likewise, a question (e.g., “why not just stop there?”) can likewise imply the subject, you. “You” are the one who may or may not “just stop there.” And the complete predicate (“just stop there”), boils down, in its simple form, to the one-word main verb “stop.” Together, these two words make the kernel: “you stop.” Did you already see that?  Maybe you know all this, by now, “like the back of your hand,” ha ha.

I hope that you now “get” the central, defining importance of the kernel of a sentence (or should I say, of a main clause, since “sentences” can include many added parts not hinging on the kernel). If so, congratulations!

You are now one in about 100 (a guess) who could look at the simply worded question, “Why not just stop there” and correctly – if asked – name its “kernel” as “you stop.” If my guess is anywhere close to accurate (it might be closer to one in 500!), that makes you a true grammatical “one-percenter” (maybe top fifth of the top percent!).

Defining the “compound sentence”

Back to our present focus, this second MC changes the sentence from simple to compound. As you might have now deduced, a compound sentence, by definition, simply includes more than one MC (no limit on the number!), and each MC is correctly joined with the one(s) it touches (just before and/or after it), using one of several “legal” options.

Every (legal) sentence presents its MC – that’s what makes it “legal.” A compound sentence presents two or more MCs.

Therefore, a nice, simple definition of the compound sentence could read like this: “A correct compound sentence includes multiple main clauses, properly linked.”

Why use compound sentences at all?

This raises the question, why a writer would join two (or more!) MCs – each of which, by definition, could stand alone as a complete sentence – into one “compound” sentence? Why not just let each MC stand as its own sentence?

Well, some writers would keep them separate. They like to keep their sentences short – maybe even “as short as possible.” I don’t necessarily call that a problem, more like a “style” choice. That’s their style, okay; that’s their preferred voice.

Maybe they don’t care that, to some readers, their voice will come off as “choppy” or even simplistic – but not “simplistic” in the desirable sense of elegant (as opposed to ornate), more at lacking in sophistication and depth. Some readers will judge the use of exclusively short sentences as unskilled.

Of course, simpler minds may judge simplicity favorably, calling it “clear and concise.” But what does that even mean? I often mock “clear and concise” as both ubiquitous and meaningless. It’s just one more place where I notably contradict what I call “the usual BS” on this subject, as I hope you appreciate.

Most readers want (or think they want) writing that is “clear and concise.” I argue that the overused term means almost nothing in practical utility.

Would the critic prefer I leave out key details? My message would certainly become more “concise.” What if Person X understands perfectly, but Person Y feels dazed and confused? “Was” it clear – or not?

I say that “clarity” depends on all parties; no label (“clear” or not) means much, in most cases. “Clear and concise” does not cut it, as useful criticism, but it’s by far the most cited qualification, when people are asked about their preferences. That fact amuses me.

That said, I don’t judge writers for carving, out of the mountain of discourse available in the world, a style and voice that that they, themselves, prefer. This voice helps define their authenticity, which you know I seek. Okay, that’s their voice.

But writers who tend to prefer writing all (or even most) sentences at similar length (whatever the length preference) and style (e.g., in level of formality) will limit their artistic and stylistic options, and they surely will not gain style points for sentence variety.

Most importantly, they will lose the prospective impact of such variety, as in following an especially long sentence with a very brief, but important, “tag,” like, “We shall see.” Sentence variety opens many possibilities. Sameness closes them.

We see that the heading above, examined structurally, constitutes a compound sentence. Now let me answer the question the heading poses: Why, in the first place, should writers ever “indulge” in compound sentences?

The main reason for compound sentences

Along with the benefits of sentence variety, sound, and flow, writers combine one (or more!) MCs into a compound sentence because we think that the two belong together – they “go together.” That is, combined, they clarify your intent and add impact – compared to keeping the two (or more) MCs separate.

Reader/student, this important decision is yours and yours alone (unless an editor/critic/boss is involved – which, ironically, happens more, the better you get!). Do you want – in this particular case – the MCs standing separately or bound together, as a team?

As another option, as we will soon explore in the next lesson (Stage 2-e), you may include, in a single sentence, both “ideas” – but demote, or “subordinate,” one of the MCs. Now, you no longer present a compound sentence, after all, since you no longer show MCs on both sides of the sentence. We’ll soon look closer at this compound-avoiding option.

We will look at lots of examples as this lesson unfolds. For now, just consider the difference (in sound, emphasis, and effect) of the following array of possible sentence structures, all of which convey the same basic information.

She took her time. I noticed that.

She took her time, and I noticed that.

She took her time; I noticed that.

She took her time – I noticed that.

I noticed that she took her time.

Each of these could work just fine. Which way to say it? It’s up to you. And, when you know you have choices and you make one of these choices, purposefully, your writing gains in “authenticity.” We will hit hard on this crucial concept (making pivotal choices, in the name of authenticity) throughout Stage 3.

Not a style choice but a lack of practical skill

But there’s another common cause of short-sentence-itis. This second cause does not hinge on “that’s my voice – so deal with it.” In my considerable experience teaching college writers (both traditional aged and adults from 25 to 65), I have observed that a great many students do not use compound sentences for the simple reason that they don’t know how! They are fearful of breaking rules they may not understand nor even know exist.

Maybe, they have received feedback that advises them to keep their sentences short. Long sentences – compound or not – that confuse people due to awkward, loose construction can bring the writer this kind of negative feedback, indeed. Nobody wants to wade through a long, cluttered, and unclear sentence.

But I have taught many hundreds of students how to correctly and clearly compose compound sentences (and other longer types), and, once they feel confident in these techniques, they love their new options.

That’s what I want for you: new options. And from these options, you can develop and/or freshen a voice that’s authentic and stylish, not cookie-cutter and timid. AI can fix your mistakes, but it can’t say “what only you would say, as only you could say it.” Need we debate this? I didn’t think so.

As for your own possible fears of writing run-ons (or other mistakes possible in longer sentences), let’s fix that right now! As a top-percenter, you want your observable skills to reflect your special knowledge.

Defining the “run-on sentence”

Now that we know (and understand!) the definition of the compound sentence (minus the “correct” options for connecting multiple main clauses – that’s coming next!), we can easily and simply demystify the often-hazy definition of the run-on sentence.

As should make a lot of sense to you now (compared to simply reading the following definition in some source, without even understanding main clauses and their “essential” importance) . . .

. . . a sentence “qualifies” as a run-on if it includes more than one main clause – and, where any two of these MCs meet (or “abut”), the MCs do so without a proper – that is, a grammatically “legal” – connection.

As a mildly humorous (if not morally universal!) analogy, I often said in class that, when two MCs are correctly joined in a compound sentence, they are “properly married.” But when they appear together in a sentence without a proper/legal joining, they are “living in sin” – as a run-on! These wanton MCs are probably going straight to hell (lower head and raise eyebrows).

Now, you know the precise definition of run-on (no, it’s not “a sentence longer than I usually write them”), so let’s get Stage 2-e and explore the “legal” options for avoiding run-ons.