writing.markfullmer.com

If you attended high school in the U.S., you probably were taught
that every paragraph, without fail, should have a topic sentence that obeys the following rules:

• Begin each paragraph with a topic sentence (from Strunk & White's respected “Elements of Style”).
• Topic sentences are never just a fact.
• Topic sentences must contain a provable (‘arguable’) opinion.
• Topic sentences should be more general than the other sentences. Plurals and the words "many", "numerous", or "several" often signal a topic sentence.
• Topic sentences should sum up the point of the paragraph.

In addition to this, there is a rise in teaching paragraphs based on a formula, such as the Jane Schaeffer method,
which spells out even more rigidly what each sentence should do. These
are easy to write, ensure that things a teacher expects in a paragraph
are there, and--for the teacher--are a snap to grade.

But no writing in the real world sounds like this. Does this teach students how to write realistically?

In 1974, Richard Braddock of the University of Iowa studied topic paragraphs in contemporary professional writing (i.e. the real world--The Atlantic, Harper's, The New Yorker, The Reporter, The Saturday Review), and found the following:

• Only 45% of topic sentences were traditional, simple topic sentences (others were assembled in multiple sentences).
• Only 55% explicitly stated topic of the paragraph (others did so implicitly).
• Only 13% of paragraphs of contemporary writers begin with a topic sentence, and 3% end with a topic sentence.

Because of this, Braddock suggests that even if teachers encourage
students to use clear topic sentences in their writing, they shouldn’t
tell students that professional writers use simple, explicit topic
sentences that always begin paragraphs. (Braddock importantly
acknowledges that this is not the case for scientific and technical
writing.)

When I was in grad school, a professor of mine described the
structure first sentences of paragraphs in a different way than the
‘topic sentence’ model. He said that if a reader reads the first
sentence of each paragraph, s/he should basically be able to follow the
essay’s train of thought. That’s significantly different than giving a
‘greatest hits’ list of your main points. It also encourages using
plenty of transition and connective techniques in first sentences,
moving out of previous paragraphs and into the subsequent ones.

Quick link: list of transition words (particularly useful in paragraph first sentences)

What do I do when I write?

I’ve excerpted just the first sentences (not necessarily
topic sentences) of each paragraph from a paper I wrote which explored
Orange County as it is represented in popular media (these excerpts
make up the introductory section of the paper; read the whole introduction here). Afterward, I’ll make some conclusions about first sentences.

The typical ‘start with a quote technique’? Not exactly. This is not
a general quote (like “Throughout American history, California has been
known as the Golden Land.”) This starts with a detail, a soupçon of one
text describing California, a text that is not the focus of my essay
but provides a starting point in time (1966) for an essay dealing with
representations after 1970. I want to stick to the details—relevant and
formative details--before extrapolating any universal statements.

This summarizes Didion’s essay. It’s not an ‘arguable’ statement,
like many topic sentence guides encourage. It implicitly sets up a main
concern/theme about how dreams in California go awry. Maybe I feel
justified not to be arguing here because early on I’m building my case,
telling a story, gathering evidence, before arriving at the verdict.

This one isn’t even a statement. It’s a list of stereotypes and
images that suffuse California. In this paragraph, the “topic sentence”
is perhaps the one that follows: “This idealized image was promoted by
writers, publicists, and city boosters at the turn of the twentieth
century,” because it takes those stereotypes and images and asserts
that people used them to create a utopian image of California. But this
sentence doesn’t start the paragraph because I want to recreate those
images in the reader’s mind first.

The word “then” signals a key change—I’m taking a step back, making
an observation. The phrase “idealized tropes” refers back to the main
idea introduced in the previous paragraph. As it happens, in this
paragraph, my topic sentence is divided between this sentence and the
following, which adds another level of complexity to the issue of
California’s idealized image: “But as Didion’s essay demonstrates,
literary suburbia also makes the ideal setting to playing with
contradictions between appearance and reality.”

By starting with the word “interestingly,” I indicate that the
observation I’m making about a similarity between suburban literature
and California texts is not obvious or expected.

The words “Simply put” indicate that I’m summing up the point I’ve
made so far (not the point of the paragraph, as many guides encourage),
and am ready to give a soundbyte to encapsulate the previous
information. By doing so, I’m preparing to move the essay in a new
direction…

There is a triple shift going on here: instead of talking about the
past, I’m talking about “now;” instead of talking about texts, I’m
talking about California “landscape;” instead of talking about
“traditional suburbia,” I’m talking about whatever comes after that
(postsuburbia). The “But” at the beginning of the paragraph helps to
emphasize this shift.

This explains the details of what has changed. Not an ‘arguable’
sentence, nor is it my own idea: I’m paraphrasing a writer I introduced
in the previous paragraph.

“For these reasons” links the details from the previous paragraph to
the label put to them, “postsuburban.” This sentence has more
information in it than a simple topic sentence – it adds what one
scholar thinks the significance of the change is—but I want to put that
all into one sentence because the ideas are so closely related that I
want them to be one ‘package’ of information.

This is not a thesis statement, even though it ends the introductory
portion of my paper, and sort of sounds like it with the phrase ‘this
change means.’ But all I say here that there is a complicated
relationship going on now. I don’t spell out how that relationship
works. So instead of being a thesis statement, this could be called a
‘scope statement,’ where I outline what I’ll be analyzing, not (yet)
the point of that analysis.

What to notice about my style in these paragraphs’ first sentences?

Many sentences include an introductory clause (“It’s
unsurprising, then, that…” “For these reasons…” “This change means
that…” that actually delays the information. This surprises me.
Normally I would want to get to the point as quickly as possible, for
readability’s sake. So why do I do this?

I read the sentences without the beginning clauses, one after
another. They make sense, but the connections between my ideas are only
implied:

Second, it seems like first sentences can be statements of detail or paraphrases/quotes from others or connections/analyses/points of my own (the last of which being what is typically called a topic sentence).

Topic Sentences versus First Sentences

Based on this short excerpt, it seems that first sentences have an
important role to connect ideas. Topic sentences they may or may not
be, but I notice that I use both simple transition words (but, simply,
interestingly, unlike, then) and more complex ones, sometimes in the
same introductory clause, and sometimes I use referential pronouns
(these, this, they).

Like Robert Braddock’s research suggests, it’s hard to make rules
for what a topic sentence should do or where it should be. I suppose it
goes back to the old idea of not putting the cart (in this case, the
structure) before the horse (the ideas). What you want to say in a
paragraph should determine what order and how it’s said, not the other
way around.