Rhythm in Prose

Rhythm in Prose 

Rhythm is the gait at which we want the reader to tum the pages. It's how we pace the writing. 

A simple formula: 

1. Use short sentences to speed up the pace. 

2. Use long sentences to slow it down. 

You can control the pace by making paragraphs shorter or longer. Also, the length of individual words strung together helps control the pacing. Short sentences with short  words equals a fast read; long sentences with long words slows it down. 

We all have an internal timing sense within ourselves that's unique to us. 

Think of yourself as a drummer. You need to capture several different beats: A light catchy tune and a ballad. The first

 will have a short, punchy beat--a staccato. The second a leisurely, long drawn-out beat. 

One way to get the staccato is to break actions up. Give each action its own sentence. Write more sentence fragments. Cut out adverbs and adjectives. Use the shortest words you can. Shorten everything you can, especially the length of paragraphs. Use short lists and parallel structure. 

He hit the man. He screamed. His head whipped back. Hit him again. Again. 

Harder. The blows came faster. Blood flew. He panted with exertion. The man screamed. 

To slow the same material down write longer sentences. Write complete sentences and use longer words. Include more adjectives and adverbs. Combine action. Slow the scene with the character's thoughts, impressions. Paint the scenery. Include metaphors or similes. Give lists in series, not in sentences. 

He hit the intruder with everything he had ... brought everything he had to the job, including the proverbial kitchen sink. It hurt his entire arm. He bet the guy felt like he'd been hit by that ol' sink! The instant he felt his fist on the fleshy part of his face, he 

heard him begin to scream, It went on forever, one of those frozen screams of pain and terror. He drew back his fist again and came forward with all his weight behind the blow. The man's head--he could see him for an instant clearly from the light of a car that 

passed just then outside--whipped back savagely and the blood flew in a fine spray and he began pounding his knuckles into his face as they both fell forward, him on top of the man, straddling him, striking over and over and over and over again, until he found 

himself so fatigued he could scarcely raise his arm for another blow.