Reading makes you a better writer. So, too, does reading make you a better editor. ‘Reading About…’ spotlights and discusses the commentaries of different authors, poets, critics, and essayists who ruminate on the various elements that are used to craft effective writing.

While many would agree that poetry is intended to be read aloud, the same is not often said about prose. And yet, centuries upon centuries of oral storytelling traditions across the globe would suggest otherwise. In my day-to-day life I read aloud often: I read aloud text messages or news headlines to my partner, I read books aloud to my son at bedtime, and I read aloud when I am editing.

Whether I am proofreading or copyediting, reading aloud forces me to slow down my reading and to pay attention to each and every word. It is an extra tool in my toolbox, which can help me hear when a sentence sounds out of joint.

If ever you needed evidence that prose – as much as poetry – is designed to be read aloud, then read writer Gary Provost’s famous prompt, below:

This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.

So write with a combination of short, medium, and long sentences. Create a sound that pleases the reader’s ear. Don’t just write words. Write music.

—Gary Provost, 100 Ways to Improve Your Writing

Provost invokes the listening ear in his demonstration of how the structure of individual and combined sentences can hinder or behold the musicality of the words therein. His emphasis on sound – of ‘a stuck record’, writing that ‘sings’, and the ‘harmony’ of a well-tuned sentence – evokes not so much a reader, but a listener. But even if we read in our heads, our eyes catch notice of the repetitive rhythm of those opening five-word sentences, and we may lose pace with the piece, take to scanning over its lines rather than reading them carefully. Music, after all, is not only heard, but felt. If we are not in tune with what we are reading, that is usually when we put the book down, or close the tab, and move on to other things.

There are many essays and articles on university websites and writing blogs that give instructions on the best ways to construct a sentence (from topics sentences, to fragmentation to compound structure). There are many useful rules that can help in crafting a good, or even great, sentence, but Provost reminds us that no matter what rules you follow, a sentence only works if it complements the whole paragraph.

Want the reader to keep going? Read aloud and take note of how your writing sounds. Do the sentences, together, form a melody worth listening to?