[Tipster] How to Create Musicality in Your Writing

In this Tipster post, we provide tips on how to create musicality in your writing--and develop your writing voice.

J.S. Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” is like chamomile tea with a splash of lemon and drizzle of honey: Smooth. Sweet. Warm. Inviting.
 
Not when I play it on the piano, though.
 
I’ve been working on perfecting a dumbed-down version for the past month. Last night I recorded my progress, something I regularly do. I’m always disappointed.
 
In my mind, I sound like a virtuoso. I imagine how I delight my family with my playing. I believe that maybe, just maybe, I’m the envy among my non-piano-playing friends.
 
But videos don’t lie.
 
My playing is amateur. Clunky and loud. Hard to listen to.
 
Every measure I pound out in “forte” (f) (or, more often, “fortissimo” (ff)), even when "mezzo-piano" (mp) is called for.
 
I ignore the crescendos and decrescendos. My phrasing is sloppy.
 
I keep ¾ time, but my tempo is choppy and fast, though the music calls for “moderately flowing.”
 
I can play the notes, but the way I play the notes lacks musicality. I ignore the composer’s articulations.
 
(Poor Bach, he’s probably plugging his ears in his grave.)

It's All in Development
 
As I think about how I’ve developed my writing voice over the years, I think in terms of how I’ve developed musicality in my writing.
 
I’ve always been able to write sentences. I could pound them out. The words were right—even the mechanics of the sentence would please a grammarian—but they weren’t beautiful.
 
They weren’t musical.
 
My writing didn’t have a rhythm, or what some people call a cadence.  
 
Intentional Articulations
 
While there are many ways to develop your voice, one of the primary ways I began to develop mine was through intentional and proper use of punctuation to moderate my cadence.
 
Think of the articulations composers use. Staccatos, for instance, are short, detached, jumpy notes. They create an urgency and a sense of unyielding motion.
 
Now, think of a series of slurred notes. They’re smooth. They read as one connected, long line of music. They draw you in and move you along.
 
Imagine, now, a few measures of staccatos followed by a measure of slurred eighth notes followed by a rest and a whole note.
 
Translate that to writing.
 
You can hear it, can’t you?
 
Short sentence. Short sentence. Short sentence. (Maybe one of the sentences uses an exclamation point.)
 
Followed by a long sentence with multiple phrases tied together with punctuation like an em-dash or semicolon. Followed by a period. Followed by one clarifying statement.
 
Or maybe you want to “crescendo” an idea, and your sentence structure gradually increases in length.  

Flip it, and you can “decrescendo” an idea by decreasing the length of sentences.
 
Don’t Cheapen Your Tone
 
I love what William Zinsser writes about voice in On Writing Well: “Develop one voice, a voice that’s enjoyable not only in its musical line but in its avoidance of sounds that would cheapen its tone.”
 
How you sound (your voice) is created by cadence.
 
Here are a couple of tips to help you pay attention to your cadence.

1. Count the words in your sentence.

Yeah it's that boring--and that simple. 

On average, sentences contain 15 to 20 words. 

If your sentences consistently fall in this range, then consider how you might make some  shorter and some longer (strategically of course!).

2. Read your writing out loud.

Remember, voice is about sound.
 
I don’t know many writers who don’t do this. If you don’t, start.
 
When you read your writing out loud, you’ll hear when your language drags on, or when there’s not enough variation.
 
You’ll also notice the pleasing rhythms you’ve created. Pay attention to those moments in your writing—and how they made you feel reading them.
 
They can be reminders of how to improve the parts that feel listless.

3. Read the "Greats." 

Pay close attention to how those writers strategically vary their sentence structure and use punctuation. 

​I recently read a David Brooks article, “The Too-Muchness of Bono.”
 
One of his paragraphs is a master class in sentence structure. (You can read the paragraph here.)
 
Brooks crescendos and decrescendos in the paragraph through gradually augmenting sentence lengths (4 words, to 11 to 13 to 15 to 25 to 34 to 72) and quickly decreasing sentence lengths (from 72 words to 14 to 5).
 
He pulls in the reader to a defining moment, much like a well-played version of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” pulls in the listener to its climax.
 
I’m confident my best piano-playing days are behind me.

But I’m hopeful that my best writing days are ahead, especially as I continue to develop my voice.
 
And your best days are ahead, too.

Now buckle up, count some sentences, and write.