The Structure of the Developmental Paragraph I: Focus, Unity, Direction

In another article ("Measure Your Paragraphs"), I suggest that one criterion that should help you to determine when to break for a new paragraph is the physical length of the paragraph.

The main function of paragraphing is to help your reader follow what you are saying, and few readers have much tolerance these days for very long, dense paragraphs. On the whole, paragraphs today need to be somewhat shorter than they were expected to be thirty years ago, when I was a college undergraduate.

But the territorial expanse of a paragraph cannot be your only consideration as a writer. There is also the rather important matter of what you put into the paragraph and how you structure it. You can say that a paragraph should average about two or three or four inches, depending on the writing context, but obviously not any two- or three- or four-inch stretch of sentences will constitute a well-structured paragraph.

Different types of paragraphs do different things in an essay. Right now I wish to focus on what I call the
developmental paragraph of the discursive essay*--the sort of paragraph found in the body of an essay, developing all or part of one of the essay's main points. Introductory paragraphs, concluding paragraphs, transitional paragraphs, and rhetorical paragraphs fulfill different purposes and are structured according to whatever purpose they serve. (Each of these types of paragraphs will eventually get treated in its own article.)

The developmental paragraph can be viewed as an essay in miniature. Its purpose is similar to that of the essay as a whole, but it covers a far more limited ground. The structural elements one finds in an essay have their counterparts in the developmental paragraph.

The thesis statement that is harped on in so many English classes is a type of purpose statement. The sort of essay that has a thesis statement is the analytical/persuasive essay --what you were taught to call the argumentative essay.

But what if your essay is merely informative? Then clearly it has a purpose (to tell about, say, the diagnostic criteria for ADHD, or to describe the different soil types found within a given geographical region), but that can hardly be called a
thesis. We use thesis to refer to a point that needs to be demonstrated or proven.

By focus I mean that the point of the essay is limited enough to be adequately handled within the time and space allotted, and that its boundaries are clearly defined.

By unity I mean that all the parts of the essay deal with some aspect of that main point. In other words, the essay stays on topic rather than chasing after other topics that, though they may be related, do not fall within the boundaries of the main point's focus.

And by direction I mean that it is always clear that the essay is going somewhere and that the author knows how to get us there. A directed essay doesn't ramble or wander, and when it gets to where it's going--a natural satisfying stopping point--you hear it click closed.

Now, like an essay, a paragraph also needs a main point, and that point is usually embodied in a topic sentence, which is essentially a purpose statement for the paragraph. The topic sentence for a paragraph should give the paragraph
focus, unity, and direction. The paragraph should be on a
single topic, or a clearly defined aspect of a topic, each sentence in the paragraph should be on that topic, and the sentences should obviously be headed somewhere. And when the paragraph gets to where it has been headed, the reader should feel it click closed.

Let me give you an example of what I mean--an example that will also show how you can choose different breaking points for the paragraph, depending on which medium you are writing for, without altering the structural relationships among the elements .

The purpose statement of an essay should give the essay
focus, unity, and direction. By focus I mean that the point of the essay is limited enough to be adequately handled within the time and space allotted and that its boundaries are clearly defined. By
unity I mean that all the parts of the essay deal with some aspect of that main point. In other words, the essay stays on topic rather than chasing after other topics that, though they may be related, do not fall within the boundaries of the main point's focus. And by
direction I mean that it is always clear that the essay is going somewhere and that the author knows how to get us there. A directed essay doesn't ramble or wander, and when it gets to where it's going--a natural, satisfying stopping point--it clicks closed.

I'm sure you realize now why I broke this into four paragraphs above, but let's look at it as a single paragraph, which is what it would be almost anywhere but on the computer.

This topic sentence promises a paragraph that will develop the idea that there are three main qualities that the purpose statement should give the essay: focus, unity, and direction. The whole rest of the paragraph is spent defining in turn each of those qualities. Thus it fulfills its promise: the paragraph has
focus and unity. It also has direction, because its scope is clearly defined from the start by its topic sentence, and when the promised task is completed, the paragraph comes to a natural stop--it clicks closed.

So did I destroy the paragraph's structure when I broke it into four smaller computer-compatible lengths? Not really. The
structural coherence is still there, but I have turned a single paragraph into what is called a paragraph bloc.

A paragraph bloc is a series of paragraphs, each of which develops one aspect of the topic sentence. In print, a paragraph bloc would be used to break a denser, more complex topic sentence than this one into more easily absorbed parts. But since the computer does not support that level of complexity, we can use the device of the paragraph bloc to make the material of this simpler paragraph easier to digest, without altering its structural relationships.

And by direction I mean that it is always clear that the essay is going somewhere and that the author knows how to get us there. A directed essay doesn't ramble or wander, and when it gets to where it's going--a natural, satisfying stopping point--it clicks closed.

Notice that two of the little "paragraphs" (including the first, which is the topic sentence for the entire paragraph bloc) are really just topic sentences. There is no development beyond that single sentence. For the other two paragraphs the development is minimal--one sentence each.

On a typed, hand-written, or printed page, a series of one- or two-sentence paragraphs would be inappropriate and ineffective. But on the computer screen these little paragraphs work like bullet points, and that makes the information easier to read and absorb.

The writer needs to be prepared to adjust to his writing context. There is no single set of rules that will be applicable at all times and in all places, though there will always be some silly people (usually English teachers) who will try to impose such one-size-fits-all rules.

There is one other principle that applies, however, to all students: When in Rome, do as the Roman teacher tells you to do. Most teachers have weird little writing rules that they have picked up somewhere along the way. The teachers may not be good writers themselves, and they may know very little about what constitutes good writing, but, by golly, they know those darned "rules."

When you must write for someone who has the power to enforce a certain writing style, even a clumsy writing style, just treat it as an exercise in adaptability. Study good writing, aspire to good writing, and as much as possible, practice good writing.