Got Rhythm?
Sometimes I get a submission with a premise that excites me and a synopsis that reveals a well-plotted story, but I don’t fall in love with the voice. One aspect of voice that is important to me is the cadence of the prose. While I love the rhythms of skillful writing, choppiness will prevent an author’s prose from engaging me.
When the meter of an author’s prose sings, it’s a beautiful thing. I certainly don’t expect (or want) a romance ms submission to be written in iambic pentameter, but meter is not just for poetry. Rhythm in prose is difficult for me to describe, since it’s one of those I’ll-know-it-when-I-hear it things. But, as in music, some authors have perfect pitch, while others may be naturally tone deaf.
If you’re wondering whether your writing lacks rhythm or is a little on the tone-deaf side, I suggest you read your work out loud and listen to the rhythm. There are some things you can listen and watch for that will prevent it from being too choppy. Do you have too many sentences of the same length? That will give your writing a choppy feel. Mix it up with long, medium and short sentences, even the occasional fragment.
Do you have passages where nearly every sentence begins with he, she, or a character name? If so, your syntax needs some variety. Sometimes the sentence’s true subject might lie buried behind filter words which, when pruned away, will give your passage some variation in subjects. Consider moving a prepositional phrase to the beginning of a sentence. Here’s a quick (and simplified) example of how these two techniques can improve the rhythm of prose:
She felt the muggy air pressing against her skin. She could hear the crickets and locusts chirruping away in their summertime concerto arranged for crickets and locusts in 2/2 time. She rolled out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to get a drink. She saw the bright curve of the young moon through the kitchen window. She started when she heard something creak overhead. She realized it must be Robert moving around upstairs.
The muggy air pressed against her skin. The insects were chirruping away in their summertime concerto arranged for crickets and locusts in 2/2 time. She rolled out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to get a drink. Through the kitchen window she could see the bright curve of the young moon. When something creaked overhead, she started. Robert must be awake.
Descriptions frequently trip authors up, resulting in paragraphs with too many consecutive sentences that are similarly structured. For example, this description is choppy: Paintings of his ancestors hung on the walls. Braided rugs lay on the floor. Comfy chairs faced the crackling fire. Enticing aromas wafted in from the kitchen. In descriptions of furnishings, it’s occasionally a good idea to use the passive voice. Even better, intersperse the description with action, so that your character is walking on the braided rug and sitting in a comfy chair facing the fire.
Another frequently abused syntactical pattern is beginning too many sentences with present/past participles (verbs ending in “-ing” or “-ed”). This can also trip up an author grammatically, since not only could it mess up the rhythm but result in dangling modifiers or impossible simultaneous actions. A dangling modifier is when the introductory “-ing” or “-ed” verb doesn’t describe the subject, as in Basted to perfection, Mama enjoyed the succulent Thanksgiving turkey. This structure implies that Mama, not the meal, was basted. Here’s an example of impossible simultaneous action, since one must go downstairs before exiting a building: Running down the stairs, she rushed out the door and flagged down a cab.
Putting your prose into parallel structure may prevent it from sounding clunky. In this example, a listing has been rearranged so that each item begins with a present-tense verb. Original: She’s famous for her deep-sea explorations, scared of spiders, an opera fan, a respected scientist, possesses a degree in marine biology, and can run a four-minute mile. Revised: A respect scientist famous for her deep-sea explorations, she possesses a degree in marine biology, loves opera, runs a four-minute mile and is scared to death of spiders.
One technique that can give prose punch is to backload. By backload, I mean rearrange the word order so that some of your sentences (especially the ones ending key paragraphs, scenes and chapters) end with the most powerful word. This technique is especially effective when you are introducing a new concept, complication, plot twist, or danger. Words such as divorce, revenge, murder, fired, war, failed, blood, and stolen will resonate more and make stronger scene-enders than weaker words such as it, inside, or me. You may find you’ll need to use passive voice to do this, but hey, sometimes you gotta break the rules.
Rhetorical devices can provide seasoning to zip up your writing—if not overdone, since including too many of them is worse than having none at all. If you’re not familiar with them, a quick online search will result in various articles and glossaries. Learn how to make occasional use of anaphora and antistrophe (repetition of the first word/last word), asyndeton and polysyndeton (omitting conjuctions/using multiple conjunctions), and epanalepsis and conduplicatio (repetition of a key preceding word).
Now it’s your turn to speak up. When you read, is rhythm important to you? What techniques do you use to give your writing a pleasing cadence?
