Rhythm tends to be an overlooked aspect of prose. Sure, one can stuff eight-syllable words into their fourteen-page paragraphs until they're blue in the gills, but all that college-level lyricism don't mean jack squat if it doesn't sound good. How a story is read--its sound, its flow--can mean the difference between enrapturing readers and driving them away in droves.

James Gardner writes on the topic of rhythm:

Sentences establish rhythm by their length and punctuation. Long languid sentences convey a different mood than short choppy ones.

I'll give you an example.

His head emerged from the water. Inky green droplets cascaded down from his face and onto the floor. He blinked. A stray drop seized its opportunity and descended into his eye. A harsh groan escaped his lips. It was then that he remembered the lack of air in his lungs, and drew a sharp breath. His coughs were painful, but not nearly as painful as seeing the corpse sitting on the floor opposite him.

Now, let's give this sucker a metaphorical drum solo. Geddit rhythm haha I'm so funny someone kill me plz.

His head finally emerged from the water, inky green droplets cascading down from his face and onto the floor. He blinked. Seeing this moment of weakness, a stray drop seized its opportunity and dove into his eye. A harsh groan escaped his lips as he swiped at his now-burning eye--quite a feat considering he had forgotten the gasping void in his chest where his lungs screamed for air. Muscle memory took over, and he drew a harsh, rasping breath from the alkaline air swirling around his head in a hazy soup.

His coughs were painful, yes, but not nearly as painful as seeing the corpse sitting on the floor opposite him.

What is the difference between the two magnificent examples? They both convey an entirely different sense of rhythm--one being short and choppy, the other being more fluid and relaxed. In almost all cases, the first example is to be avoided, as multiple short, choppy sentences in a row can fracture the flow of the narrative. These quick-action sentences are best used as "cappers" (brief one or two-sentence blurbs at the end of a section of story) to long sections of description or action, so as not to overwhelm the ready with long passages of text. Even then, be wary of overuse--like any other literary device, too much repetition will only bore the reader.

Now, before you start looking through the English textbook I'm sure you all keep on hand for just this occasion, don't go thinking you can find problems in your rhythm through a spell-checker. Rhythm isn't a cut and dry subject--its abstractness is what makes it so difficult to iron out properly, and unlike so many other aspect of writing--it is hard to develop, even with practice. The concept of rhythm itself means that there aren't going to be many, if any, cut-and-dry equations for making your sentences as rhythmic as a two-step jive. I quote Frank Gardner again:

A writer's sense of rhythm develops over time. It's mostly unconscious—I certainly don't say to myself, "It's time for three long sentences followed by a short one." I'm simply aware of the "feel" of what I'm writing and try to match that feel to the impression I'm trying to make.

That being said, there is an easy way to counter this problem without traveling to the Himalayas to learn rhythm with your ancient tribal rhythm maste: Read your story out loud to yourself. If a line sounds weird coming out of your mouth, odds are it will read weird on paper. "Feel" the flow of the sentence, and adjust your wording accordingly; short, choppy words to indicate brief, intense emotion, and longer words to indicate more fluid movement.

Here is a great resource on rhythm in prose. I would highly recommend giving it a read.

Now go forth, and make your stories worth dancing to.

873080 Alright, so short sentences are good for intense moments. So that means that a short sentence is good when you need to make an important point that leaves little to the imagination? Doesn't that sometimes go against the convention of "show vs. tell", which dictates that the more important something is, the greater detail should be devoted to describing it?

For example:

Tears flowed down Twilight's cheeks as the hulking scaled monstrosity fell to the ground, an airy dirge escaping its mouth in a low whine. Eleven heads crashed into the ground with eleven mighty thuds to end the death cry as acid spit poured out of the creature's mouths.

That right there is me *showing* Twilight is sad as a hydra dies. Now if I wanted to use short sentences in order to convey the emotional intensity, I'd go with something like...

Twilight sobbed. The hulking scaled monstrosity fell to the ground. An airy dirge escaped its mouth in a low whine. Eleven heads crashed into the ground with eleven mighty thuds to end the death cry. Acidic spit leaked out of the creature's mouths.

Am I getting this right? Or am I way off base? It seems to me that short sentences (Twilight sobbed.) enters into the realm of telling, but then you tell me that short sentences are meant to be intense. But then I have been told that showing is what engages the reader in the story.

Do I have to sacrifice showing in order to have short, cutting, and intense sentences?

873123 The first one is better, in this case. Short, choppy sentences have their place, but multiple ones in a row tend to venture into the round of fractured telling, as you stated. I've updated the lecture a bit to address this.

Multiple short, choppy sentences in a row can fracture the flow of the narrative. These quick-action sentences are best used as "cappers" (brief one or two-sentence blurbs at the end of a section of story) to long sections of description or action, so as not to overwhelm the ready with long passages of text. Even then, be wary of overuse.

Promising knowledge/ This is a needless Haiku/ That express my thanks.

873123 873377

If this is "Twilight is sad", aren't those both showing? Neither of those really tell me anything about Twilight besides that she's crying.

As to flow vs. choppy, I think a movie metaphor would be useful. The first example feels to me like a super-slow-motion scene from a movie -- you know, the kind where someone shouts "Nooo" and does one of those leap/dive things, and they're airborne for like five seconds. The second sounds like a regular scene, maybe just the slightest tad of slowmo (small enough so that it's not really slowmo, but I don't know how else to put it).

For an action scene, I would think short, quick sentences would fit the desired flow better.