Sentence Sensibility

sententia “”a thought expressed”

Jon here on a Wednesday morning, thinking about sentences.

We call a talented writer a “word-smith” but I’ve never heard anyone called a “sentence-smith.”

And that makes me sad, because words come relatively easy to most people, with access to their own brain, the OED or a drop-down menu Thesaurus. What really sets a writer apart is their sentence sensibility.

Here’s my ode to the sentence. Pay attention, class, and put down those iPhones.

A sentence is a getaway car, idling at the curb;

The getaway car driver is wearing sunglasses. While he looks calm, he’s slightly nervous, tapping on the steering wheel with his fingers.

A sentence is a Tupperware container, with a snap-on lid; perfect for storing leftovers, the kind of leftovers that taste better a day or two later.

A sentence is a confessional booth. The writer is both penitent and priest.

I was married for sixteen years. I’ve been in love with sentences for three times as long.

If you sentence me to twenty more years of writing sentences, shackled to my writing desk, under alternative sentencing, I’ll take that plea bargain.

This essay originally appeared in my second collection of essays, Laying Low (2021).

Image from the movie “Baby Driver” (Sony Pictures/TriStar) 2017

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