I opened my manuscript in Word one morning, thinking I was in the final stretch. The story was done, the big edits complete, and all that was left was the polish.
Then the blue squiggles came.
Word flagged hundreds of commas. Hundreds.
At first, I tried to follow them, adjusting here, inserting there, but the more I fixed, the more I began to question everything. Was I wrong to skip that pause? Did I overuse “and”? Should I really put a comma there just because Word thinks so?
It spiraled fast.
The Comma Spiral is Real
I’ve learned that final edits are as much about trusting your instincts as they are about catching mistakes. But that trust wavers when every other sentence gets flagged. I found myself staring at lines I had once loved, now second-guessing their rhythm, their voice, even their worth.
“Samike’s voice was sweet and her mind was sharp.”
Word wanted a comma. I didn’t.
I left it. And I was right to.
What I Discovered Along the Way
The deeper I went, the more I saw a pattern, not just in my writing, but in what I wanted my writing to feel like.
In my world, commas aren't just rules. They're breath.
They mark pauses for weight, for reflection, for reverence.
They elevate sentences when I want something to feel sacred or ritualistic, and they vanish when I want a line to glide, clean and unbroken.
Yes, there are hard rules I respect:
But the rest? That’s voice.
And once I started seeing that—truly feeling that—I started editing with confidence again.
When to Pause, and When to Let It Flow
“With a gesture my life was spared.”
No comma. Because the moment doesn’t deserve one.
It’s clean. Immediate. Undeniable.
“And so the Hollow stirred, offered, and waited.”
Commas here aren’t grammar. They’re ritual.
They give the line breath, space, and gravity.
I began to realize that in fantasy writing, especially in a story where myth, memory, and ceremony all intertwine, punctuation can be as expressive as dialogue or description. It shapes pace, tone, and emotion.
Final Thoughts to Fellow Indie Authors
If you’re deep in your edit and Word is lighting up like a judgmental Christmas tree, take a breath. Let it help, but don’t let it take over.
Learn the rules.
Break them with purpose.
And trust your voice.
Your commas won’t be perfect. They’ll be yours. And if they carry rhythm, meaning, or breath, they’ve done their job.