This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety.
Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.
To the drunks, the addicts, the perverts, the victims, the porn stars, the prostitutes, the adulterers, theives, the obese gluttons who think a waste is a terrible thing to mind, the Twilight fans, the murderers, the mommy’s boys, the losers, the freaks, the geeks, people who think wrestling is real, red necks, guys who own action figures, chain smokers, everyone who does not use a turn signal while texting and talking on the phone in their car, men who live with their mothers, women who get paid in dollar bills, dudes in dresses (seen it at Mars Hill), democrats, republicans, the guys at the gym who walk around the locker room naked singing Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer, mormons and anyone else who wears sacred under breeches, whoever is responsible for the creation and ongoing sale of men’s Lycra biking shorts… yoga instructors, witches, pot heads, meat heads, crack heads, dead heads and meth heads… people who don’t recycle, the rainbow-loving tree-hugging … lefters, and religious people who do not know what I am talking about because these subjects were not on The Little House on the Prairie or covered in their Home School co-op — I have good news for you: Jesus loves you. You’ll fit right in. And because He died for your sins, you get to repent.