9 Sentence Structures

While on duty, I watched a video on sentence structures to practice my writing craft. John Matthew Fox illustrates 9 sentence types, from the short sentence to the long sentence, as well as the repetition sentence and pile-on sentence. Never have I ever named classes of sentences! This post contains part of an essay I wrote in college that I wrote to explore my first experience of the theater. How strange it is to revise an essay I wrote as a younger man about a younger-er version of myself. Here, I’ll revise using the sentence variations from the video.

Sentence structures:

1. Delayed Sentence
   1. Far out, beyond man’s reach and decades in the past, a star died a quiet, magnificently colored death.
2. Contrast Sentence
   1. If my friend had simply turned and left, I would have accepted it, but I couldn’t stand it when he wept before me.
3. Short Sentence
   1. They walked on.
4. List Sentence
   1. The classroom was a mess, filled with poorly chosen posters, riotous students, and led by an incompetent educator with just one lesson of experience behind him.
5. Repetition Sentence
   1. I was sad: sad that the day hadn’t gone well and sad that everyone around me was sad.
6. Pile-on Sentence
   1. He had been anxiously waiting for hours, for days, for weeks, while the tax office threatened audits.
7. Building Sentence
   1. Every nail was hammered into the wooden posts, every wooden post held the joists, every joist carried the floor, and the floor held the remainder of the house.
8. Reversal Sentence
   1. He loved a profession, and the profession hated him.
9. Long Sentence
   1. Developed by ten stressful years of experience, which had been undervalued by those in power and rightfully valued by others at the grocery store or Home Goods, the educator was finally coming to terms with the end of his career, like a 60-year old Sergeant Major, and it was this understanding that made resigning easier.

The Original Piece

The darkened cafeteria was quiet, except for the occasional whisper and giggle. Upperclassmen glared, hushing the muted voices. Through the backstage door (closed to prevent these whispers and giggles from emanating onto the stage), we listened to the progress of the plot and the loud guffaws of the audience. I sat in one of the plastic chairs (green — my favorite color) and waited for my cue to head into the bright lights. I thought, it’s cruel for them to leave us in the dark and then torture our pupils with the bright lights.

Revision

Beyond the closed theater door, where we gathered during school lunches, in darkness, occasional whispers and giggles betrayed the confidence of our fellow actors. If the upperclassmen had pushed us, I’d have accepted it; their glare was enough to mute our voices. The musical played on. Along the air, through the backstage door, and into the cafeteria, the guffaws of the audience permeated like a sauna. I was nervous: nervous about forgetting lines, nervous that I’d misstep in a dance, and nervous about being perceived as a drama nerd. I listened to the progress of the plot for what felt like hours and days, waiting for my cue and sitting on a green plastic chair. Every cue led to a line, every line developed the scene, each scene led to the end, and the end was coming. I loved the theater, and I hated when it ended. It’s cruel, I thought, that they leave us in the pleasant darkness before torturing our pupils with bright lights.

Analysis

The above revision uses the nine sentence types in order. This felt cramped, as if forced to write with my arms clasped over my head. I’ll write another one, mixing sentence types and being aware of their strengths. The repetitive line may be my favorite one, as it covers quite a few angles. However, it still tells rather than shows, eh?

I enjoy short sentences, especially after a longer one. The short sentence is a break from having to remember all the words of a longer collection. That said, a long sentence with its mix of commas, dashes, and semicolons is quite fun to write. Formed properly, one sentence can share a wealth of knowledge. Lastly, when appropriate, repetition can be a strong literary mechanism.

Revision #2

Sitting on a green plastic chair in the darkened cafeteria, I listened to the progress of the plot and the guffaws of an audience in the theater, which had its backdoor closed and guarded by black-clad techies, who could have been mistaken for ninjas or robbers. A laugh, chuckle, giggle, or chortle enticed glares from angry techies. I was nervous: nervous about slipping on a Charleston square, nervous that I’d earn the glare of my cast mates, and nervous that I’d never be in another theater production. Applause! My cue! What cruelty, I thought, that we exist in this darkness only to be tortured by bright stage lights.

Analysis #2

Initially, I wrote two long sentences, a short one, and left the italics close to the same. I barely touched the other sentence options, so I cut one of the long sentences and replaced it with a list. The second revision fits a well-known technique: writing long sentences followed by a short one. Even now, as I write this line, I find myself adjusting word choices, exchanging “threatening” for “enticed.” And even that may be the wrong decision.

I could most certainly revise this paragraph a dozen times. I may. The entire essay is ready for a revision, having rested unobserved for a decade in a deep-set folder on Google Drive. Rewriting this would be time travel to another world, passing through several revisions of myself. Teen Nick feels as foreign as French. I can speak a little to him, but I don’t understand much in return.