An Apology for Being a Thoughtful Writer

I owe you an apology.

Not for anything I’ve said — but for how I’ve said it.

You see, I’m a lifelong user of punctuation. A habitual deployer of commas. A respectful admirer of the hyphen. A confident, sometimes exuberant, wielder of the em dash. And yes, on occasion, a creative abuser of the ellipsis…

This is not accidental.

I started my career as a magazine designer. I lived in a world of leading, kerning, gutters, widows, orphans, and baseline grids. I sniffed glue - not because I was seeking a quick high

– to affix galleys to our layouts. I studied typography the way some people study wine or music — deeply, obsessively, and with strong opinions. I’ve even won awards for typographic design, which is a very niche thing to brag about, but here we are.

Back then, punctuation wasn’t just grammar. It was design. It was pacing. It was voice. It was how you guided a reader’s eye and ear through an idea.

Fast-forward to the mid-2020s, and suddenly I find myself in an unexpected cultural moment.

There is now a generation of readers who associate the em dash — my beloved, emphatic, elegant em dash — not with clarity or rhythm, but with artificial intelligence. Apparently, the em dash has become the skinny jeans of punctuation. If you use it too often, people quietly assume a robot wrote your post.

And so here I am. A human writer. An amateur at best. My wife, the professional writer, reminds me of that fact each time she reads my work.  Come to think of it, she edits me even when I speak! :-O 

Adjusting decades of well-trained (or as Heather might say, inadequately trained) instinct. Carefully under-utilizing some of my closest typographic friends… just to prove I am, in fact, carbon-based and not a carbon copy.

Let’s take a moment to honor those friends properly.

The em dash — named because it’s roughly the width of the letter “M” — was born to interrupt, emphasize, and add drama. It’s confident. It doesn’t ask permission. It says, “Pay attention to this part right now.” It is punctuation with stage presence.

The en dash, more modest and refined, spans the width of an “N.” It exists to connect ranges and relationships — dates, scores, timelines — quietly doing its job without demanding applause. The em dash’s thoughtful sibling.

Then there’s the hyphen, the great connector. Small, hardworking, and often misunderstood. It brings compound ideas together and prevents chaos. Without it, we’d be living in a world of “small business owners” who may or may not own very tiny businesses.

And of course, the comma — the utility infielder of punctuation. It pauses. It separates. It saves lives. (“Let’s eat, grandma” remains undefeated.) The comma doesn’t seek glory. It just shows up, every day, doing the work.

Finally, the ellipsis. Three little dots that whisper instead of shout. Used well, they suggest thought, hesitation, or anticipation. Used poorly… well, we all know someone who treats them like seasoning.

The irony, of course, is that these marks long predate generative AI. They come from centuries of typesetting, publishing, and human storytelling. They were invented to help people think more clearly and read more comfortably.

Yet here we are, in an era where good punctuation can feel suspiciously non-human.

So yes, I’m learning to adapt. I’m trimming my dashes. Counting my commas. Asking myself, “Does this sentence really need that pause?”  Trying to come to terms with the fact that… One. Word. Sentences. Can. Have. Impact!

Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. But either way, if you catch me sneaking in a well-placed em dash from time to time, please forgive me.

Old habits die hard — and some of them were designed with care, intention, and a whole lot of ink.

Sincerely,

A Thoughtful Writer (Still Human) – G