Tuesday, May 10, 2011

The Comma

My first writing class in high school was with Mrs. Watts.  When she read about eating a cold piece of watermelon on a hot summer day, I said to myself hmmmm.....I want me some of that creative writing.  I loved her liked worshiped the ground she walked on.  She was fun, she was inspiring, she was the best class I had during those four years.

Maybe she taught this and I don't remember or maybe I'm chronically stupid, but oh these commas make me craaaaaaaazy as in the loco.  I add them, read it over, delete them, put them back in.  I read my stuff out loud.  Did I pause?  Pause means comma, right?  It could also mean that I just remembered it's 10:00 and I haven't checked Garnet Hill's Sale of the Day yet.  Big pause, quit writing, check out sale.  Sometimes, I read the paper and say hmmmmm........I should put my commas there like they do.  And for awhile I do.  Then I forget, which happens when you make shit up as you go.  I'm perplexed. 

Perplexed?  Maybe I don't need commas, after all.  Maybe I'm gonna get by on confidence, commitment and kick-ass vocab.

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