The Cadence of Great Writing

By: Sean Savoie 

            In writing, as in most all forms of art (and even life itself), rhythm plays a crucial role. I do not say this simply because I have played drums for 31 years, but rather because it is increasingly evident as I develop my own skills in various art forms. Painting has rhythm; the human eye dances around a painting repeatedly returning to the reds and yellows, the longest wave lengths. The longer and shorter scenes in films predictably create a reaction in an audience. Tempo is king. Perfect timing in movement guarantees the most effective result in martial arts. The active and resting cycles of human life likewise have a profound influence on human health and longevity. In short, movement is at the core of life and expression. Call it “cadence”.           

In many forms of art, such as kung fu, dance, and music, the central role of movement is obvious. It is in more static artistic expression that cadence becomes subtle, thus affecting the audience in ways that are often unconscious. For this reason, becoming aware of the movement of the artist requires a higher form of appreciation on the part of the person who is watching, looking at, or listening to the art. However, a person need not be an artist to fully comprehend the subtle cadence of various styles of art. Take the paintings of Vincent Van Gogh as a clear example; the thick brush strokes pulled across the canvas have attracted many millions of people. Yet, when I was much younger, I would have looked at his often simple style of painting and said, “I can do that!” How wrong I was! Van Gogh captured the eyes of millions with his extreme passion expressed in bold, defiant motion. Even now his paintings dance in museums with people standing in line for hours just to watch (not see) them. There is no art without movement.           

O.K. Fine! That being said – and yes, I could write on and on about philosophy, which I adore—how does this concept of cadence apply to the writer? How can a student preparing to enter college become more aware of the rhythm of his or her written work? One key is breathing. When I was in college, I had the great fortune to have had an excellent kung fu teacher who once said to me that the key to health and the greatest mysteries of life is breath. He said, “We can live without food for over a month; we can survive without water for days; but air is necessary. Without air we can only survive for minutes. The movement and experience of breathing is the key to the universe!” The beauty of such a claim is that it sounds abstract and complex, yet it is so fundamental and simple. So let us now apply this idea to the writing process.           

            Movement in writing is felt in both the smaller and larger units, the smaller units being sentences and the larger ones being paragraphs (or chapters in longer works). Masterful authors have a keen sense and control of long and short cadence when composing literary works. This, once again, is exactly the same sensitivity that a master musician has when composing music. Very long sentences, if not broken up into smaller segments, can be boring if used too often. Similarly, short sentences can make the reading “choppy” so that it does not move well. Paying attention to the length of an expressed idea is the first step to attaining better control over the influence your writing has on the reader. An interesting combination of long and short sentences produces a more engaging rhythm.  

            One way to test the cadence of a written work is to read it out loud. When reading aloud, a person must synchronize reading with breathing. When I read an excellent book, I read very slowly and savor the movement and voice of the author. That’s right. The voice of a narrator is in my head and pulls me deeply into the story. Imagine, for example, how a paragraph would sound if it were played on a saxophone. Yes, this is a bit abstract, but sax players must always consider phrasing in order to know when they should breathe. When reading aloud, the essence of the phrasing becomes far more obvious. Being a drummer, it took me years to learn how to make my drum set breathe like a wind instrument, but it is extremely effective. Try to imagine an essay as a living animal with its own temperament and biology; for an essay to really speak to a person it must have breath. 

            Most writers and writing teachers, including myself, talk about “finding your voice”. This is of course referring to developing a personal style, which, as a young writer, may be premature for some people. However, notice the similarity to my concept of breath. No breath, no voice. After becoming more sensitive to rhythmic styles of the authors one enjoys reading, a young writer should analyze and imitate that author’s technique. Imitation is an excellent way to learn, and, through imitation, a young writer may save a great deal of time in figuring out how the master writers pull a reader into the written work. In the end, however, upon finding one’s “voice”, a writer should allow the style of writing to reflect the personality and character of the author him or herself. It goes without saying that the best way to achieve this result is to practice, practice, practice! Next week we will examine how rhythm influences individual sentences by illustrating some clear examples.