“Hi. My name is Mary R, and I’m an exclamation point-aholic.”
“Hi, Mary,” droned the group of writers. A few disheveled members fidgeted with their phones. Others stared at me with exhausted, burnt-out eyes. The survivors, further along the road to recovery, nodded and smiled.
“It started out innocently enough,” I told them. “I was writing a children’s story, after all.”
“Ohhh nooo,” groaned the crowd.
“I didn’t even think twice about it. I typed ‘Hey,’ and before that second quotation mark even had a chance—shift, tap—I had hit the exclamation point. That punctuation mark pulsed on the screen, and an electric thrill zinged through me.
“Two sentences later I typed another. Don’t get me wrong. I did think about it before I … Okay, who am I kidding? It popped up on my screen as if it had a life of its own. The energy, the excitement radiated from that slash-dot. My face flushed, my heartbeat quickened. I gave myself over to the ecstasy of exclamation! I was hooked.
“Before I knew it, I had a page full of exclamation points jumping up and down, dancing, flipping, and doing other unspeakable things—in a children’s story, mind you. Some of them clumped in an angry mob—two, three, yes, four! I admit it: four exclamation points in a row!! Adrenaline surged through my veins. I could hear the excitement in my character’s voice. I could feel his energy. He was alive, I tell you, ALIVE!!!
One writer shook her head at me. Most held their heads in their hands. I saw a couple wipe away tears. “We’re here for you, Mary,” said one.
“I’m here because of the children,” I told them. “I had nightmares of children jumping on their beds and bouncing off their walls. And it wasn’t because of the plot or the characters or the conflict. It wasn’t because of well-crafted writing. It was because I let loose a gusher of exclamation points that hit them like a frozen slushie tidal wave, like a stampeding sugar rush. In the corner, an editor writhed in pain as if battling an ice cream brain freeze. I did that to them.”
“It was only a nightmare,” whispered someone.
“But it could happen,” I said. “That’s why I’m here.”