I don't know how many of you suffer from this, but I have ROSS-- run on sentence syndrome-- seriously, my sentences sometimes go on and on and on and on, and thank the stars for my CPs who aren't afraid to tell me to cut it out, otherwise I'd be a complete mess, well, more of a mess than I am now, and it's pretty messy over here.
It's a legitimate problem.
I'm reading "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman, and last night, I was completely floored by possibly the longest sentence I've ever read in a novel.
And it was beautiful. I reread it. I marveled at its brilliance; its simplicity and straight forwardness. I read it again, and again. And I think I'm in love.
"Through the doorway into an apartment that smelled like overboiled cabbage and cat box and unfiltered cigarettes, and they were ushered through a tiny hallway past several closed doors to the sitting room at the far end of the corridor, and were seated in a huge old horse-hair sofa, disturbing an elderly gray cat in the process, who stretched, stood up, and walked stiffly, to a distant part of the sofa, where he lay down, warily stared at each of them in turn, then closed on eye and went back to sleep."
I don't know what it is about that sentence that is so appealing to me, but, my goal as a writer now, is to write the longest sentence ever and make it work.
What do you think?