Achieving Fluidity in Writing via Sentence Structure

Impressively academic-sounding title, no? Actually, this is a short post that came to me while I was in the bath. Having started my writing career as a poet, it is important to me that my work reads fluidly, even in prose. I even sneak poetry into my prose. However, while lyricism helps to achieve flow, a similar effect can be achieved using sentence structure.

In school, many of us were taught to keep sentences simple. Even in the most rudimentary teachings instructors advocate varying sentence length so that the writing doesn’t feel choppy and uninteresting. However, for the most part, they lean toward simple, versus long sentences. When word processors were developed, they blithely told us what our writing’s reading level is, which is, of course, influenced by word choice and sentence length.


We want our work accessible to “Joe Reader” (despite the fact Joe is probably well educated) so we conform and keep those sentences curt. Fortunately, Charles Dickens never got the memo or he would have certainly re-written his most famous opening sentence. If it looks a bit like a poem, well, yeah. Exactly.

Let’s look at the effect of short sentences. Let’s start with a simple example, below.

Joe went to the cabinet. He picked up a knife. Joe sliced the cheese, looking ominously at the blade.

Now, in our first reading, we probably omitted “ominously,” because Stephen King says adverbs are bad (which is nonsense), but we inserted it since the short sentences didn’t leave room to explain the emotional content of the scene. In fact, there’s no emotional content at all. Even worse, the writing is choppy and fluidity is nil. Why is that?

Simple. Life doesn’t happen in separable chunks like that. Our brains are designed for sequential thinking, and we naturally link related activities together. Listing the separate events is great if you’re an announcer broadcasting a football match, but in the real world, it’s annoying.

So, let’s take the same events and link them together.

Joe walked to the cabinet, found the sharpest knife there, glared at Mary, and sliced the cheese.

Already, as we see the three steps as one activity, we begin to naturally insert more information. He wasn’t just strolling by the cabinet as he happened upon a knife. He went there with a purpose. He wanted more than a slice of cheese; he wanted our attention. Now that he has it, and we begin to think of Joe’s activities as an integrated event, we can easily add the emotional content, which has the secondary effect of adding a touch of lyricism and fluidity.

Joe walked to the cabinet, selecting a blade six inches long, and twisted it, watching light dance along the razor’s edge before smiling and severing a paper-thin slice from the hard cheese in a single, fluid motion. Mary shuddered.

Now, the sentence needs work, but not as much as the three choppy ones. (Pun intended.) It is a single motion, and we understand it wasn’t cheese he wanted but Mary’s intimidation. Keep in mind, the extra information (which came in my bath) was as a direct result of seeing the pieces as a whole. I followed the long sentence with a shorter one that both breaks the monotony of the rhythm and serves as punctuation. Our old instructor would be happy.

Of course, your mileage may vary, and there are myriad ways to achieve the same result. But in general, I try to eschew little sentences when I can. Life isn’t meant for little bits. I’m not suggesting that you go all Tale of Two Cities on the world with your writing, but do stop and think of whether your many thoughts are actually many thoughts at all.


  1. throughhisown says:

    Thought of you the other day when I read ; ‘After I finished writing “The Shiralee” I felt as if some kind person had lifted a heavy suitcase off me. No one had told me extended creative action battered the body’. (D’Arcy Niland)

    1. That is very apt. I hope some kind soul will come lift off my suitcase.

  2. Heather says:

    I keep all my posts to the bare minimum of words…I admire those of you who can put words together allowing the reader to clearly visualize what is being written. I’ve always wanted to write and I do a small amount, but find it takes me forever to write a simple piece…words don’t come naturally to me I have to write and re write constantly before I come up with something I’m happy with…often even comments likes this! Great post Bill…

    1. Thank you. Honestly, most of what is required is practice and developing self-confidence. Even some of the most fluid writers I’ve met used to stumble getting the words out. At some point, with repetition, you begin to assume people will want to read what you write and stop editing yourself. It’s the inner self-editor that puts the brakes on writing.

      1. Heather says:

        hmmmm, something for me to consider! I certainly see the inner self-editor putting my brakes on all the time…

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