Dashing

I have a problem with the dash.  Not the 50 yard kind you run on a track, though I’d probably struggle with that too.  No, the dash I am referring to is this little piece of punctuation:  –

My problem started with over-dashing.  It was as if I forgot all about the comma, semicolon and period.  If I paused, I dashed.  I would catch my right middle finger headed for that sneaky little dash nearly every sentence.  Once I was aware of my bad habit I was eventually able to catch myself and make better choices.  My problems with the dash were over!

Or so I thought . . .until my arch-nemesis of punctuation reared its ugly head from the  top of the synopsis I submitted for critique at the James River Writer’s Writing Show.  It was right there laughing mockingly at me from the most grammatically incorrect of places, as if to say: You used to be my biggest fan.  We hung out all the time.  And now you avoid me, shun me, turn your back on me.  Well I’ll show you . . .

To which I say: bring it on dash, bring it on.   I’m not embarrassed by you.  I’m glad the error was brought to my attention.  And no, it isn’t even particularly bothersome that a whole audience full of people saw you because maybe you helped them too.  So if you’ll kindly excuse me, I have some editing to do . . .

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