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I am guilty of writing bad sentences. I have written them my whole life; in numerous essays for college and university, two thesis papers and 15 years of business writing. I didn’t know any better.

I have just read 20 pages about grammar and syntax, troublesome words and phrases and sound sentences and unhappy sentences. I have spent the last hour rewriting examples of terrible sentences, full of nouns and stripped of life, into sentences that fly and simply tell the story they were meant to. I have learnt so much that I would like to share with you. But I cannot; I cannot rephrase Marks words because they are so round and beautiful and perfect. I will focus this blog entry on just this:

The essence of good style is sound syntax. The most brilliant sentences, no matter how long or convoluted, are strung with sturdy syntax.… So concentrate… on these three elements: the agent of the action; the action; the recipient, if any, of the action.

In other words: subject, predicate, object (optional).

I shall try and tell you a story full of life, not to assault you with too many long words or nouns or syllables but to make the sentences carry my story in an effective manner one sentence after the other after the other.

I could see the concentration etched onto the boy’s face. He was holding his breath as he slowly moved the wooden piece. A few more centimeters and it would be free. Then he looked at me and smiled “Your turn.” I was walking around the construct we had been building for the last half an hour. We had already reached the boy’s height. How could we still be going? I tapped a few pieces here and there. They felt rock solid. Finally I chose a piece and worked on it slowly. The tower swayed. I stopped for a moment. There was no way back now, I had to keep going. Then I felt the resistance ease off and the piece started moving more easily. I put the block on top. Quite pleased with myself I looked to my left “Your turn.” John employed a very different technique to the rest of us. He didn’t feel out the pieces. In fact, it looked like he went for a random one every time, but I was sure he had a strategy. He hit his piece hard and I watched it fly over the grass. The tower was as still as a lake on a hot summer’s afternoon. We were back at the beginning. I had long lost count of how many rounds we’d been going for. Sarah wasn’t the competitive type. But by now even she didn’t want to be the one to break the spell. Tentatively she started to push a middle piece close to the top. Middle pieces were safe. But were they at this height? Then it all happened very quickly and I was buried under blocks of wood. We were all lying on the grass laughing – Jenga! Giant Jenga!