Tag Archives: sentences that go on for too long

Corralling cats and words

Yes, it’s a commercial, but it’s still pretty funny (and kid safe–my kids loved it). It occurs to me that everyone else has already seen this except for me, since I don’t watch television.

In any case, enjoy!

 And by popular (?) demand, I’ll post that 490-word sentence, but below the cut. Click through if you’re curious/bored. And yes, it’s one big fat paragraph because, after all, it’s one big fat sentence. It also features Dating on the Dork Side characters.

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Filed under Getting Schooled, The cat, Video, Writing

Remember when I wrote that really long sentence?

Remember when I wrote that 106-word sentence? I wrote another one! Even longer! This week, as part of the class I’m taking (called masterful sentences, oddly enough) we mimicked Hemingway and his +400 word sentence, which you can see here. (Scroll down to #3. I’m not going to post it here-dude, that’s longer than most of my blog entries.).

So part of the assignment was to write a 400 – 500 word sentence-and have it make sense. I did the first part at least. I wrote a 490-word monstrosity.

In the process, I think I broke Microsoft Word.

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Filed under Famous people, Getting Schooled, Writing

Dude, that’s one really long sentence

Ha. The magical, mystical, way-too-long sentence. It was part of an assignment where we were given a laundry list of short sentences (He wore a shirt. The shirt was frayed.) about an individual that we had to work into a single sentence.

I don’t feel right about sharing the entire list, but there were sixteen items to work into the sentence. Most of my classmates managed to do that in far fewer words than I did.

Still, I think I had more fun. So here it is, in all it’s 106-word, longwinded glory.

The man stood, gnarled, emaciated fingers clutching a sign held high above his head, the frayed cuffs of his shirt poked from the sleeves of his suit coat jacket, its material shiny with wear, the stubble on his jaw cast his mouth in shadow, but his forehead shone with sweat, while the sign’s letters, a single word–PEACE–appeared penned by someone very young or someone very old, and on all those hot afternoons that August, he held the sign high, only lowering it when the traffic thinned, the rush of blood to his hands making the skin pink and–for a moment–like a child’s.

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Filed under Getting Schooled, Writing