Paragraphs

Summary

The author expresses a desire for the complexity and depth of long-form prose after frequently writing concise haiku, acknowledging the satisfaction derived from well-crafted, lengthy paragraphs by esteemed authors, despite being regularly inspired to compose haiku in the night.

Abstract

The article titled "Paragraphs" under the subheading "Longing for Many Words" delves into the author's yearning for elaborate and extended writing after a period of composing haiku. The author describes the haiku as brief, 17-syllable bursts of creativity that, while enjoyable, leave a void that only a long, intricate sentence or paragraph can fill. Seeking solace in the works of literary giants like Hilary Mantel, Marcel Proust, and Rebecca West, the author finds a profound appreciation for the artistry involved in crafting a sentence without periods, utilizing commas and semicolons to their fullest. The author admits to being awakened by the urge to write down haiku, which they refer to as "Wolfku," but ultimately finds greater pleasure in the pursuit of a well-reasoned paragraph. Despite the nocturnal interruptions from the muse of haiku, the author asserts their intention to indulge in the satisfaction of reading and writing long paragraphs.

Opinions

The author values the craftsmanship of long, complex sentences and paragraphs, viewing them as intellectually stimulating and satisfying.
There is an acknowledgment of the contrast between the brevity of haiku and the depth of longer prose, with a clear preference for the latter.
The author holds writers like Mantel, Proust, West, Banville, and Gallant in high regard for their ability to construct significant outpourings of text without periods.
The process of writing haiku, especially at night, is both a compulsion and a joy for the author, though it is secondary to the allure of lengthy paragraphs.
The author experiences a sense of awe and respect towards those who can masterfully wield punctuation and create logically structured, long reflections.
Despite the pleasure derived from haiku, the author emphasizes a commitment to engaging with more substantial pieces of writing during the day.

Longing for Many Words

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After a thousand haiku: Thirsting for a real, full long paragraph

My seventeen syllable snippets, lovely though they are — my friends now, really, bubbling up from below at a sometimes-alarming rate — there comes a time when a long, winding, delicious sentence would just hit the spot.

So, I turn to Mantel or Proust or perhaps Rebecca West for relief. Or to John Banville or Mavis Gallant.

A long, well-constructed, period-less, significant outpouring, to me, can be as heady as a stiff drink (or a cup of strong, green tea these days). I am in awe of those who excel at this, the masters of the comma and semi-colon, of the tightly reasoned and perfectly logical paragraph-long reflection. It is one of my greatest pleasures to pursue such a thought all the way to the eventual period (and often, end of paragraph).

That said (and yearned for), what wakes me up in the middle of the night is another seventeen-syllable stanza calling itself a Wolfku (haiku by a wolf), insisting that I write it down (yes, right now) lest I forget it by morning.

So, I do. Write it down. And put pen and paper away. And turn over and cast off toward sleep, perhaps weighing two similar version of said Wolfku: maybe this is better — but with some luck I am soon asleep again (without some luck I might ponder the Wolfku, and others, for the rest of the night — it has happened).

Come morning I am often delightfully surprised that the Wolfku rings both beautiful and true — to my, admittedly biased, ears.

Still, today I’ll definitely imbibe some long, long paragraphs.

Paragraphs

Longing for Many Words

Wolfstuff

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