The Horizontal Sentence

"Lights," by Stuart Dybek, from the collection The Coast of Chicago

But there were times—who knows why?—when drunk or high, stubborn, or simply lost in that glide to somewhere else, the driver just kept driving in the dark, and all down the block we’d hear yelling from doorways and storefronts, front steps, and other corners, voices winking on like fireflies: “Lights! Your lights! Hey, lights!”

“Lights,” by Stuart Dybek, from the collection The Coast of Chicago

Photo by Alex brody on Unsplash

In this flash story, during the summer, a group of kids would gather on the corners watching the cars drive through the neighborhood. Sometimes a car would go by without its headlights, and they’d yell, “Lights!” Usually, the driver would honk thanks and turn on the lights.

Last week, I wrote about verticality, and then I read this sentence, and it begged to follow the previous one. I love this sentence because of the horizontal movement that’s depicted at the end. More generally, this sentence syntactically mimics the feeling of when things don’t unfold in the expected way.

The first base clause opens the sentence, “But there were times,” and with the conjunction “but,” we know that what follows is different from what came before. The clause is quickly interrupted by a parenthetical (a rhetorical question), “who knows why?” This is the first syntactical move that mimics a disruption of the usual. The sentence will not flow in a linear fashion. Instead, it’s nonlinear, creating a more jagged feeling.

Next, it seems a dependent clause will follow because of the subordinate conjunction “when,” but four adjectival modifiers interrupt it. Again, more nonlinearity. If the modifiers were eliminated, the sentence would read (so far): “But there were times when the driver just kept driving in the dark.”

The adjectival modifiers “drunk or high, stubborn, or simply lost in that glide somewhere else” begin with balance, the pairing of two things, with “drunk or high.” That rhythm is immediately disrupted with the singular “stubborn,” set apart by commas. Dybek picks up the “or” and adds the longer phrase, “simply lost in that glide somewhere else.” The word “glide” stands out to me because the sentence is soon going to do exactly that, glide horizontally.

The relative clause “[when] the driver just kept driving in the dark” refers back to the subject of the first base clause, “times.” I love the alliteration “driver/driving/dark,” and the polyptoton, words that use the same root, “driver/driving,” all of which create more music and cohesion.

After the conjunction, “and,” Dybek uses a short adverbial phrase to introduce his second base clause, “All down the block we’d hear yelling.”

And then we have beautiful, sweeping horizontal movement that’s generated not visually but by sound emanating from different locations: “from doorways and storefronts, front steps, and other corners.” Again, there’s balance and an interruption of balance.

Dybek modifies these sounds with one more phrase that includes a simile, weaving in sudden motion and vision, “voices, winking on like fireflies.” The simile also resonates with the content of the dialogue, which revolves around the image of light. Finally, the sounds themselves: “Lights! Your lights! Hey, lights!”

Stuart Dybek, photo credit: Bob Stefko

Your Turn

You can use this sentence’s architecture when the unusual happens to create a nonlinear jaggedness.

Open with your first base clause. Use “but” if you’re creating an unusual event that deviates from the habitual.

Now, insert a short parenthetical. Dybek used a rhetorical question.

Add only the subordinate conjunction and interrupt it with modifying information. Can you add balance and then interrupt it?

Now finish the subordinate clause, adding the subject and verb.

Add a conjunction and your second base clause. Since we’re practicing, you can use the verb “hear” since that will lead to a stream of sounds that come from different locations. Can you use a simile?

End with dialogue.

Try it!

How did it go?

Swimming in Style

For paid subscribers, we gather monthly on Zoom for 90 minutes to write stunning sentences, enough to write a paragraph and possibly more. It’s astonishing how one paragraph can blossom into a story. I’ve seen it happen many times. We’re also building a really wonderful community of writers!

If you can’t make the day or time, I’ll send you the recording and the analysis of the sentences. After 45 days, I have to delete the video.

If you’re already a paid subscriber, you’re in the pool! To join, you pay $6 a month or $55 a year.

Our next monthly gathering is TODAY! July 19 at 11:00 am Pacific Time. If you sign up before 11:00 am, I can send you the link.

The Art of Page One

For paid subscribers, once a month, I’ll talk with Holly Payne, who runs the Power of Page One podcast and Substack, about the opening paragraph of a novel. I’ll look at the granular—what the sentences are doing—and she’ll comment on the macro. I’ll send you the recording and the analysis of the sentences.

Upcoming Classes

You Had Me at the First Sentence: I’ll be teaching at Book Passage in Corte Madera, in-person and on Zoom, on July 26, 10:30-12:00 Pacific Time. In this 90-minute class, we’ll delve into first sentences from published books and short stories, examining what makes them so irresistible. Why this word? Why that syntax? That image? What’s there—and just as important—what’s not there? Using those sentences as blueprints, you’ll craft your own. By the end, you’ll have a tall stack of opening lines ready to sprout into full-blown stories. The registration link is here:

Reading Like a Writer: Fall semester at Stanford Continuing Studies, which begins September 22, I’ll be teaching an online class, “Reading Like a Writer.” We’ll read short stories and two short novels, extracting craft techniques that you can use in your writing. Registration opens August 18.

About Me

I’ve taught “Style in Fiction,” “Word for Word,” and “Cultivating Your Prose” at the University of San Francisco and Stanford Continuing Studies since 2007.

My short story collection, In this Ravishing World, won the W.S. Porter Prize and the Prism Prize for Climate Literature and was published in July 2024. My award-winning novel, Afterword, was published in May 2023. My novel, The Translator, was a finalist for the William Saroyan International Writing Prize, and The Painting, a finalist for the Northern California Book Award. My nonfiction books, How to Write Stunning Sentences and Stunning Sentences: A Creative Writing Journal, are bestsellers. Second editions are coming in January 2026. My short stories have appeared in Zyzzyva, Chicago Quarterly Review, Fugue, Nashville Review, Your Impossible Voice, and many other publications. I teach creative writing at Stanford Continuing Studies. Please visit my website: www.ninaschuyler.com

The Newsletter:

Here are the instructions on how to become a paying subscriber:

or Consider a One-Time Donation

—a $5 tip, like applause, a cheer, a little gift for a job that brought you a bit of inspiration: Ko-fi.com/stunningsentences