Going to bed when I can’t afford sleep is an easy choice tonight. I tried to give it a go, because a new book has to be done by Friday. I really tried but then this happens: I’m not feeling so hot today. After almost two hours of sickness and breakdowns of concentration, I finally got in the zone and then an Em Dash caused me to forget that I was holding a glass of ginger ale, and also that I even had a hand in the first place. It was weird (but has happened before at the end of working on a project that wasn’t ever supposed to be this difficult) and now there’s ice and fizz and no more pop, all because of a pretentious Em Dash. Honestly, I don’t know why I do this to myself.
(click or tap to read full story below. Source, Slate)
Adventures In American Writing 