Unit 1: Lesson 1

Fragments

Analyze your own writing…

• In your journal, write ONE sentence on the topic of your choice.

• How do you know what you wrote was a sentence?

Definition of a Complete Sentence

A complete sentence should:

1. Tell us who or what did or is something (subject).

2. Tell us what they did or what they were. (verb).

3. Provide us with a finished idea.

Sentence Formula = SVF

• Subject + Verb + Finished Idea = A Complete sentence

Two word test

• Using these rules, the shortest possible sentences consist of 2 words.

– I ate.– Sally danced.– Bruno fell.– Armando read.

What would writing sound like if authors only used two word sentences?

Incomplete Sentences

• Incomplete sentences are missing one or more of these three requirements and are often marked “inc.” or “frag.” (fragment) on your essays.

• Although some writers use incomplete sentences to create style, you should focus mostly on writing complete sentences.

Using your 3 rules, determine if the following sentences are complete or incomplete.

1. Bonnie only eats chicken on Tuesdays.

2. Watching TV on the weekend.

3. Ducks swim on the quiet and calm pond.

4. Reading is fun when you have a good book.

5. When school is over.

1. Bonnie only eats chicken on Tuesdays. Complete: subject (Bonnie)+ verb (eats)+complete

thought.

2. Watching TV on the weekend. Incomplete: no subject (who is watching?)

3. Ducks swim on the quiet and calm pond. Complete: subject(ducks)+verb (swim)+complete

thought

4. Reading is fun when you have a good book.Complete: subject (reading)+verb (is)+complete

thought

5. When school is over. Incomplete: subject (school) + verb (is) + unfinished

idea (what will happen then?)

Practice

Read the following passage in which author Annie Dillard discusses a time when she saw a weasel while out in nature.

Notice her sentences and her sentence length. Does she use any incomplete sentences? What kind of emotion do her sentences help create?

The sun had just set. I was relaxed on the

tree trunk, ensconced in the lap of lichen, watching the lily pads at my feet tremble and part dreamily over the thrusting path of a carp. A yellow bird appeared to my right and flew behind me. It caught my eye; I swiveled around-and the next instant, inexplicably, I was looking down at a weasel who was looking up at me.

Weasel! I’d never seen one wild before. He was ten inches long, thin as a curve, a muscled ribbon, brown as fruitwood, soft-furred, alert.

Annie Dillard, “Living Like Weasels”