There is a difference between a filet mignon at Del Frisco’s Double Eagle Steakhouse and a Salisbury steak from Hungry Man. A big difference. Not all meats are created equal.
By the same token, not all sentences are the same, and nowhere is this more evident than in the first sentence of any communication. Be careful to shirk bad style in your first sentence because it will poison the rest of your writing. Here is a list of some played-out writing trends you should avoid. As you read, keep in mind that I am just an English teacher who has read thousands and thousands of first sentences over the years, so you don’t have to listen to me.
But if I have read thousands … why wouldn’t you listen?
1. The So-So Sentence ex: So, I have been thinking a lot about irony, lately.
If the first word of the first sentence of your speech, sermon, blog post, status update, or tweet is “So …,” then you are making a run-of-the-mill writing move. Start noticing how many people begin speeches and tweets and facebook posts with So, and you will slap your forehead and say, “So, I am a lemming!” You don’t want to run the same direction every writer is running. If you want your work to stand out, you must do something different. Besides, a So-So Sentence sounds as if you are beginning a bad joke (i.e., So, a personal trainer and a cupcake walk into a bar …).
2. The Phony Question ex: Have you ever wondered how it would feel to live in a nursing home or in assisted living?
Recently, I read a compilation of essays from writers who were talented but not professional. This was obvious because of the phony question epidemic. Most of the essays began with some version of Have you ever wondered …? or another, similar phony question. As a reader, my response to this weak style is usually, “Yes, I have wondered, you ignoramus, which is why I am reading your article in the first place. Please get to the point.” Writers who use phony questions are confusing them with effective rhetorical questions, an example of which would be: Should we euthanize everyone over 80 just because they may require extra assistance? See, the answer is obvious, people: NO. If you ask a question like this, it is because you are sure of the audience’s answer. In fact, you must, must, must already know the answer if you ask a question in a speech or essay, and that answer must, must, must add strength to your argument. If you cannot attest that your question adds conviction to your case, then it is a phony question. I am so tired of this technique that from now on if a writer asks me if I have ever wondered something, I am going to answer, Nope. Sure haven’t. And then stop reading.
Oh, and by the way, did you take a gander at the photograph in this post? Every one of those student essays begins with “Have you ever …?” Those are all from the same writing assignment. (I borrowed this stack from a random teacher, so my students wouldn’t recognize their handwriting … but they know they do this, too.)
3. The Machine Gun ex: Candles. Singing. Party favors. Laughter. Every child loves a birthday party.
It takes a lot of work to knit together the imagery of a scene. In order for readers to vividly imagine each detail, a writer must expend great effort to weave a visual tapestry. Some writers just don’t know how to do it. Instead of taking the time to learn or to try, though, they hammer out a staccato series of nouns that are chosen to evoke a scene, without requiring the real work of crafting “the scene in a sentence” for the reader. The ratta-tat-tat feel of this method offers the illusion of being effective. Perhaps it once was. The problem is overusage; everybody’s doing it. A reader sees the machine gun everywhere so it no longer is an arresting strategy. Some writers will try to defend the use of a single word to begin an essay rather than a list of words. An example of this would be: Politics. If there is one thing that separates friends and family, it is politics. Actually, a one word beginning is not any different. One shot from a pistol causes the same effect as a barrage from a machine gun: death. In this case, it would be the death of reader interest. And can a serious writer afford to take such a risk? (This is an example of a rhetorical, not phony, question. See above.)
4. The Boom ex: Riiing! The telephone jolted me from my daydream.
The use of the sound-effect-hook appears to be peculiar to beginning writers. Over the last decade, almost all of my students (who were in 5th to 12th grades) have used a sound effect to begin a piece of creative writing at least once. As I grade papers, I read boom after bam after pow. It feels like I’m being punched in the face. Then, black-eyed and bruised, I always return to the classroom the next day and cry out, “Who told you to do this?! Who said this would work?!” My students insist that some past teacher told them to do it, but I cringe to think so. Furthermore, I suggest that all of this comic-book-face-punching should be reserved exclusively for her, not me. Kapow! Listen, Kid Emeril, a written sound effect is NOT A SOUND! Writing the word “Boom!” in no way enhances your description, and it is the least effective verbal move you could make. Words are supposed to mean something, and what does boom mean, exactly? Nothing. It means nothing. What about bam, huh? And pow? Do you see where this is going? If you write boom or any of its cartoon cousins, the you are writing nothing. Writing boom is like anti-writing. You would do better to describe the flash, the vibration, the chilling effect of an explosion rather than to write a meaningless word like boom.
5. The Definition ex: Webster’s dictionary defines solitude as “the quality or state of being alone or apart from society.” The healing effect of occasional solitude cannot be overstated.
I have news: Noah Webster wants to sue you. He never intended to be quoted this way. It is almost as if definitions represent an opinion of some kind, which, of course, they do not. As you write, please only refer to dictionaries for denotation for your own sake, not for quotation for your readers’ sakes. Most grievous to me is that lazy writers often assume that their readers also are lazy, therefore they define common, rather than unusual, words! I find this insulting. (I won’t define that for you.)
(Note: “The Religious Version” of Definition Poison is common these days and comes in the form of defining Greek or Hebrew words. This technique can be an odd interruption of the message’s flow, especially coming from a writer or speaker who is not a scholar of ancient languages. I have read some Bible studies that were so thick with definitions that I lost the entire point of the teaching while trying to weave in and out of the content. I’m just arguing that caution is necessary. If a definition critically enhances a message, then use it, but do not assume that merely defining an ancient word will make you appear erudite. Guess what? These days we all have access to Bible dictionaries as close as our phones. And if one more preacher defines the word “agape” for me, I might vacate the pew, because I don’t agape weak Bible definitions anymore. No, not one. No, not one).
There are other cheap writing moves that I won’t address here. Avoid consuming trendy candy like “just sayin” and “that period thing,” which was only clever. The. First. Time. These things make you sound like a parrot. You are too good to copy.
My students insist these stale writing choices are cute, and I always respond with the same imaginary story, just to stress the importance of unique writing style: One day, I tell them, you will submit a piece of writing for a state assessment, for a college entrance exam, for an employment application, for a literary agency, or for a publishing house. And on that day, in Austin, in Princeton, in Portland, there will be a grumpy lady, wearing terrible shoes and sipping her eighth cup of bitter coffee. She will pick up your precious piece of writing — which is her #1,427th piece to read since lunch. Then, without tenderness or treachery, she will decide your fate, dear writer.
Pretend it’s your job to make her smile.
Have I been too harsh in this blog post? My apologies. I am a writing coach, and I just want to help you communicate with power.
That’s my job.