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Citation Information
Manser, Martin H. "Composition: Paragraphs." Writer's Reference Center. Facts On File, Inc. Web. 18 Apr. 2025. <http://fofweb.infobase.com/wrc/Detail.aspx?iPin=GTGW010>.
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Composition: Paragraphs


Assuming that you have overcome any difficulties in getting started and you have decided what tone you should adopt toward your reader, you will now be in the process of putting together the body of your text, paragraph by paragraph.

A paragraph is the basic unit of any piece of writing. Its main function is to present information to the reader in a chunk of a manageable size. If you have read, or can imagine, a piece of writing that is not broken up into paragraphs, you will have some idea of the importance of manageability. Unbroken text is stressful to read. It is hard on the eye as well as on the mind. When novelists, as they occasionally do, produce a whole book that consists of unbroken text running perhaps for hundreds of pages, part of their purpose must be to stress the reader. Small pauses are as natural in writing as in speaking, and as necessary to the reader as to the listener.

Paragraphs are not arbitrary divisions of text. They are—or should be—consciously shaped units. The information that paragraphs present to the reader should be distinct. Paragraphs are not, of course, entirely self-contained because they form part of an ongoing argument, explanation, or discussion. Nevertheless, if you read a paragraph in isolation from the surrounding text, it ought to give the impression of being complete in itself.

The standard rule is one idea, one paragraph. A paragraph usually consists of a particular thought together with any explanatory or illustrative material connected with that thought. When you begin to deal with a new idea, you should begin a new paragraph:

Charles Dickens was born in 1812 in Portsmouth, a naval base in the south of England. His father, John Dickens, worked as a clerk in the pay office of the Royal Navy. John Dickens had obtained his post through the influence of his father-in-law, who held a senior post in the pay office until he was revealed as an embezzler in 1810 and fled abroad to escape arrest.
The family moved house frequently as a result of John Dickens's work. They spent some years in lodgings in London, before moving to Chatham, another naval base in Kent. There, Charles spent the happiest years of his childhood….
The first paragraph deals mainly with Dickens's father and his connection with the Royal Navy. When the writer's attention turns to the places where Dickens spent his childhood, a new paragraph begins. Note, however, that the first sentence contains a reference to "John Dickens's work." This links the second paragraph back to the first and gives a sense of progression to the account. Where possible, it is a good idea to include "a hook" of this kind to establish a connection between one paragraph and the next.

It is also standard practice to begin a new paragraph when the point of view changes. On the whole, this happens more often in fiction than in nonfiction:

Looking down from the 26th floor, Callaghan saw a man run out into the middle of the street, pull out a pistol, and point it at a car coming toward him from the direction of the lake. Callaghan tensed himself. The 26th floor was cut off from all outside sounds, but there was no sign of a shot. The car slid to a halt. A woman got out with her hands up. The man pushed her aside, got in, and drove off still waving the pistol out of the car window.
Down in the street, Linda Jacowitz didn't know whether to curse or cry….
The whole first paragraph describes what the character Callaghan perceives from the point of view of the 26th floor. When the action moves down to the street and the writer starts to describe Linda Jacowitz's reactions, a new paragraph is needed.

The Topic Sentence

In many cases, the idea that the writer intends to deal with in the course of a paragraph will be expressed in one particular sentence. That sentence forms the nucleus of the paragraph and is often referred to as the topic sentence.

If you look back to the second paragraph of the previous subsection, you will see that the topic sentence is, in fact, the second sentence: "Its [the paragraph's] main function is to present information to the reader in a chunk of manageable size." It contains the basic idea that the paragraph is intended to convey. The first sentence serves as an introduction to it. The subsequent sentences discuss the concept of manageability and the disadvantages of presenting the reader with an unbroken run of text.

The topic sentence is the core of most paragraphs. For the writer, it is a guide to what belongs in a particular paragraph: Anything that falls within the paragraph should be related to the topic sentence. It has a similar function for the reader: It indicates to him or her what the paragraph is essentially about. Consequently, it is the sentence that it is most important to get right, that is, to make clear and, if possible, succinct.

A topic sentence ought, as a rule, to be fairly specific. If you choose to center your paragraph on a very general statement, you may saddle yourself with a task that you cannot accomplish within a paragraph of reasonable size. If, for example, your wrote as your topic sentence "Hamlet's encounter with his father ghost changes his whole worldview," you would be committing yourself to a discussion of virtually the entire play. This is an essay title rather than a topic sentence. If, instead, you wrote, "Hamlet's encounter brings about an immediate change in his behavior," then you would be limiting yourself to a discussion of the action following Hamlet's exchanges with the ghost in act I scene 5—a subject that can reasonably be dealt with in the space of a paragraph. Similarly, "Oil and gas supplies from the former Soviet Union are under threat" is less useful as a topic sentence than, for example, "Oil and gas supplies from southern areas of the former Soviet Union are particularly vulnerable to terrorist attack." By restricting the discussion to a particular geographical area and a specific kind of threat, the second example promises to handle a more manageable amount of information.

In order to help bind the paragraph together, it is sometimes useful to structure the topic sentence in such a way that it contains key words that recur within the remainder of the paragraph. Consider this example:

Almost every American family possesses a useful and much neglected educational tool hidden away in drawer or cupboard and fished out maybe once or twice a year: a deck of cards. Card games aren't just fun; they're a great way of training children's memories, making them concentrate, and teaching them basic social skills. They also bring the whole family together for some quality time. Natural competitiveness quickly shows; it's that much more fun for the kids if they can beat Mommy or Daddy or Brother or Sister. But it won't be quality time if they can't get some fun out of just playing and maybe losing once in a while. Learning not to be a sore loser, that's a basic social skill; so is joining in wholeheartedly, and letting everyone have a turn. But they can't win if they don't concentrate. They have to watch those cards or they'll lose their chance. And if they can't remember what's on the table and what's still in the deck, they'll soon learn what it means to go bust!
This paragraph is written in an informal style, but the informality of its tone conceals a fairly formal structure. It has a topic sentence—the second sentence. It is couched in informal words, but it states the theme of the paragraph and contains key terms—fun, memories, concentrate, and quality time—most of which are woven back into the paragraph and directly hark back to the main theme. It is obviously possible to overdo this technique. Too much repetition, besides being a stylistic weakness, gives the impression of laboring a point. The reader usually requires only a gentle nudge to be kept on track, not a heavy hammering.

The position of the topic sentence within the paragraph is not fixed. Theoretically, it can come anywhere, but it seldom comes at or near the end, for the simple reason that you do not usually want to keep your reader hanging on for too long before giving him or her an explicit pointer to what the paragraph is about. It is often the first sentence, as in the paragraph above that begins "A topic sentence ought, as a rule, to be fairly specific." If your paragraph is, as it is often recommended that it should be, a miniaturized version of a longer structure, however, then it will often appear as the second or third sentence, depending on the length of the paragraph. (See also paragraph structure below).

There is one further advantage of basing your paragraphs on topic sentences: These topic sentences ideally should originate from the preparatory work you have done before you start writing. Clear and careful notes worked into complete sentences can become the foundation stones of paragraphs when you write out the full version of your text. A fully worked-out plan could consist of a series of topic sentences corresponding to the paragraph arrangement of your text.

Nevertheless, not every paragraph has or needs a topic sentence. It is perfectly possible to produce a viable and well-written paragraph in which no single sentence is identifiable as the core and encapsulates the essential message. Such is the following example from Charles Dickens's 1854 novel Hard Times:

In truth, Mrs. Gradgrind's stock of facts in general was woefully defective; but Mr. Gradgrind in raising her to her high matrimonial position had been influenced by two reasons. Firstly, she was most satisfactory as a question of figures; and, secondly, she had "no nonsense" about her. By nonsense he meant fancy; and truly it is probable that she was as free from any alloy of that nature as any human being not arrived at the perfection of an absolute idiot, ever was (Dickens 1984, 62).
This is a perfectly acceptable paragraph, but you could not really choose any one of its three sentences as having primacy over the other two. It comes from a novel, and there is no reason why a paragraph from a piece of creative writing should not have an identifiable core sentence. Not surprisingly, however, it is in writing that discusses a topic or works out an argument that the topic sentence most comes into its own.

Paragraph Structure

Whether or not it contains a topic sentence, a paragraph should be a unit. It should hang together. Dickens's paragraph quoted above hangs together because it is all about the nature of Mrs. Gradgrind. And, though his intentions are satirical and the tone is comic, there is a definite logical progression. Mrs. Gradgrind is "woefully defective" in her stock of facts, and facts, as we have been told from the beginning of the book, are the be-all and end-all of Mr. Gradgrind's existence. Why then did he marry her? "Because she was satisfactory as a question of figures." Here Dickens is playing on the phrase facts and figures. She was unsatisfactory as to the former but satisfactory as to the latter, which is not to say that she was a mathematical genius, but that she came into the marriage with plenty of money. She also had "no nonsense" about her. This leads Dickens to specify what nonsense means to a man like Gradgrind, and thus he closes the paragraph. He truly closes it, too, for when you reach the end of that last sentence, you truly feel you have reached a pause. Everything has been said on this particular subject, and now it is time to speak of something else.

As briefly mentioned in the previous section, it is often recommended that a paragraph should mimic the arrangement of a larger piece of writing. It should have an opening, or introduction; a main body; and a conclusion, or close. This is good advice, though not always easily achievable within the space of a few sentences. A topic sentence, if you are using one, may form the introduction to the paragraph or be preceded by a separate introductory and usher in the main body. But it is usually not too difficult to construct the body of a paragraph. The ending may cause more difficulty, because it should "feel" like a close. The ending of a paragraph indicates a brief pause, because the writer is now about to treat a new topic. It is sometimes harder to introduce a silence than a point.

Let us briefly consider an example from a rather less exalted source than Charles Dickens. One of the paragraphs in the previous subsection concludes with the sentence "The reader usually requires only a gentle nudge to be kept on track, not a heavy hammering." The first draft of this sentence read slightly differently: "The reader usually requires a gentle nudge to be kept on track rather than a heavy hammering." During revision, it was felt that this sentence lacked "finality." If you were reading it aloud, it would be natural to keep your voice up at the end of it, because the way it is constructed requires a final stress on the word "hammering." The voice, however, usually falls before a pause. When the voice stays up, you expect the reader to go on and say something else—perhaps, in this instance, to illustrate or explain the difference between a "nudge" and a "hammering." That was not the intention in this paragraph. By sharpening the opposition from "a gentle nudge rather than a heavy hammering" to "only a gentle nudge, not a heavy hammering," the stress was moved away from the end of the sentence back onto the word not. This allows the voice to pronounce the last two words in a falling tone, and that, in turn, indicates a pause is coming and gives a better sense of finality. It may be added here as a general observation that reading your work aloud, or hearing it in your mind's ear as if it were being read aloud, is often a very good method of checking that it is indeed having the effect you intended.

Paragraph Dimensions

There are no set rules for the size of paragraphs. A paragraph should be as long as the material it contains requires. A paragraph could consist of a single sentence, and as a sentence might only consist of a single word, the minimum size for a paragraph is one word. However, single-sentence, let alone single-word, paragraphs are comparatively rare and not necessarily preferred.

There is no upper limit on the size of paragraphs. In the hands of a skillful writer, a paragraph could be made to extend a whole page or more. The reasons given earlier for the existence of paragraphs, however, apply at all points. Text is easier to read and looks better on the page if it is broken up. If you embark on a paragraph that looks as if it is going to cover more than two-thirds of a page, it is usually wise to look for a way of dividing it into two or more smaller ones.

As a very rough guide, the average paragraph should contain not less than three sentences. This is the minimum usually needed for the introduction-body-conclusion pattern. Likewise, when you have written six or seven sentences, it is usually time to think of bringing the paragraph to a close. A lot depends, however, on the length of your sentences. Similarly, you should usually aim to fit three or four paragraphs onto a standard page. But there are a number of factors that can influence the size and number of your paragraphs.

First among these is the nature of your readership and of the piece you are writing. Certain types of writing, particularly tabloid journalism and writing for children, demand many short paragraphs, usually of only one or two sentences. The more sophisticated your readers, the longer you can make your paragraphs. You can safely assume that their attention span and their capacity to follow an argument will enable you to expand well beyond three sentences if you need to do so.

Second is the position of the paragraph within a section. It is usually recommended that the first and last paragraphs of a section be comparatively short. A couple of sentences should suffice to set the scene or get a discussion going, and also to bring the section to a close.

The third factor is the desirability of putting variety into your text. Wherever possible, you should vary the length of your paragraphs and also vary the lengths of the sentences within the paragraphs. A succession of uniform paragraphs spread uniformly across the page creates a regimented impression. For all its underlying planning and logic, a text should be something lively and not be entirely predictable. A varied arrangement of paragraphs indicates as much directly to the eye.

Paragraphing and Dialogue

A particular paragraphing convention applies to the presentation of conversational exchanges. It is customary to start a new paragraph each time a person begins to speak and to include within the paragraph not only the attribution of the spoken words—that is, a phrase such as he said, she answered, or they chorused—but also any material that describes how the words were uttered or what the character was doing when he or she uttered them. The following example illustrates conventional treatment of written dialogue.

"I don't think I can stand much more of this," said Henrietta. "If it gets any hotter I think I shall go insane! Why didn't you tell me it was going to be so—so primitive!"
"Darling," replied Charles, in the soothing tone he reserved for such outbursts, "you did say you wanted to experience the real East."
"I suppose you're telling me, it's all my fault." A large insect flew onto the veranda and began fluttering around her head. "Get away!" Henrietta shrieked, flapping at it wildly.
Charles stood up and dispatched the intruder with a rolled-up copy of the Straits Times. This was not quite what he had imagined either, but he was certainly not in a mood to admit it.
Peace returned briefly to the jungle clearing.
"If you'd wanted the Singapore Hilton …" Charles began again.
"I know what I said," she snapped. "You just didn't get what I meant!"
Somewhere not too far away, an elephant trumpeted loudly.
Note that there is a new paragraph (of just one sentence) to describe the temporary silence in the setting. That sentence does not form part of Charles's reflections.

For further discussion of direct speech, see reporting speech. For further discussion of the use of periods in direct speech, see period. For further discussion of the use of quotation marks and paragraphs, see quotation marks.

Division into Paragraphs

This discussion of paragraphs would not be complete without a brief demonstration of how a piece of undifferentiated text could be broken down. Imagine, if you like, that this writer, not wishing to be slowed while drafting, just presses ahead and produces the following:

At the Mexico City Olympics in 1968, high-jumping set off in an entirely new direction that was to take it to unprecedented heights. Richard D. (Dick) Fosbury took gold for the United States that year with an entirely new jumping style of his own devising that came to be known as the Fosbury flop. Officials and spectators watched in amazement and dismay as Fosbury launched himself into the air, arched his back, went over the bar belly up, not belly down as in traditional jumping styles, and landed, apparently, on his head in the pit. They were amazed at his courage, at his success, and at the fact that he did not break his neck. They were dismayed by the thought of the spinal injuries and concussion that might result as, spurred on by Fosbury's success, young athletes tried to emulate his method. Since the early days when the high jump developed as a sport out of a desire by young men to show their daring and athleticism by leaping gates and hedges, it had been taken for granted that part of the skill lay in coming down safely on the other side. In most older belly-down styles like the straddle, the jumper's leading foot was the first part of the body that went over the bar and the first that came down on the other side to break the fall. Fosbury changed all that. His head went over the bar first and the rest of him followed, though he always insisted that it was his shoulders he landed on, not his head or neck. Despite Fosbury's Olympic success and the obvious effectiveness of the method, however, it took the best part of a decade before his flop became the predominant style among serious high jumpers. The replacement of the old-fashioned sand pit to land in by a very thick sponge mat made all the difference. Only the very brave are willing to risk their necks for glory.
This is a typical piece of first drafting that would benefit from several kinds of revision. But let us concentrate on breaking it down into paragraphs—or bringing out the paragraph breaks that are essentially already there. (You might like to try making it into paragraphs for yourself before reading the analysis below.)

The first two sentences constitute an introduction. At the end of the second sentence, the point of view changes. The writer introduces the "officials and spectators" and presents the event as seen through their eyes. A change of point of view necessitates a new paragraph. Two further sentences (both beginning with "they") continue the story from the same point of view. Next, the writer's attention seems to turn to the history of the sport, but the "topic element," as we might call it in this case, is mostly contained in the second part of that sentence: "it had been taken for granted [since the early days] that part of the skill lay in coming down safely on the other side." If we identify those words as containing the topic, then all of the next four sentences can be linked together as a unit. There might be an argument for separating out the two sentences that refer again to Fosbury, but against that it could be argued that Fosbury's method is being presented specifically in light of what had gone before. The last three sentences make quite an effective close, with again a possible option to let the very last sentence stand alone. The paragraphed version, awaiting further attention, would then look like this:

At the Mexico City Olympics in 1968, high-jumping set off in an entirely new direction that was to take it to unprecedented heights. Richard D. (Dick) Fosbury took gold for the United States that year with an entirely new jumping style of his own devising that came to be known as the Fosbury flop.
Officials and spectators watched in amazement and dismay as Fosbury launched himself into the air, arched his back, went over the bar belly up, not belly down as in traditional jumping styles, and landed, apparently, on his head in the pit. They were amazed at his courage, at his success, and at the fact that he did not break his neck. They were dismayed by the thought of the spinal injuries and concussion that might result as, spurred on by Fosbury's success, young athletes tried to emulate his method.
Since the early days when the high jump developed as a sport out of a desire by young men to show their daring and athleticism by leaping gates and hedges, it had been taken for granted that part of the skill lay in coming down safely on the other side. In most older belly-down styles like the straddle, the jumper's leading foot was the first part of the body that went over the bar and the first that came down on the other side to break the fall. Fosbury changed all that. His head went over the bar first and the rest of him followed, though he always insisted that it was his shoulders he landed on, not his head or neck.
Despite Fosbury's Olympic success and the obvious effectiveness of the method, however, it took the best part of a decade before his flop became the predominant style among serious high jumpers. The replacement of the old-fashioned sand pit to land in by a very thick sponge mat made all the difference.
Only the very brave are willing to risk their necks for glory.

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