When I published a short reflection about the em dash on LinkedIn a few weeks ago, I thought it would be a quiet post. A small observation about a punctuation mark that had somehow been swept up into the wider debate about AI writing. The kind of post that lands politely, gets a handful of reactions, and moves on.
It did nothing of the sort.
Within days it had reached thousands of people and prompted over forty comments. As of Friday, 28 November, the LinkedIn post had appeared over 42,000 times, reaching more than 31,000 members. It had gained seventy-plus reactions, fourteen saves, five reposts and a steady stream of thoughtful replies. More than 250 people clicked through to read the full blog post behind it.
Those numbers matter less than what they represent, though: a conversation that grew not because the LinkedIn algorithm pushed it, but because communicators, writers, editors and technologists wanted to talk about it.
What surprised me was not the volume, but the tone. The comments were nuanced, curious, amused, occasionally exasperated and, above all, deeply human. It turns out a single punctuation mark can reveal quite a lot about how people feel about writing in an AI-shaped world.
What people were really responding to
As I read through the comments, a pattern emerged. People were not debating grammar. They were talking about voice, identity and how they want their writing to be perceived.
Some were adamant about keeping the em dash as part of their style. They described being taught its usage decades ago, or the way it shapes a sentence’s rhythm.
“I use dashes because they are part of my voice. I am not surrendering them just because AI has borrowed the habit.”
Others saw the debate as a reminder of how style becomes personal. The em dash, for some, is not simply a piece of punctuation but a familiar cadence.
“For me, the dash is part of the rhythm of writing. Losing it would feel like losing part of my tone.”
But there was another strand of reaction. A number of people admitted they now avoid em dashes because they worry readers will think their writing is AI-generated. One person called it “the AI blame”. Another said that even hyphens now feel suspect.
A few confessed they have changed long-standing habits to reduce the risk of being misread. That struck me as significant. AI has not only affected how people write, but how they fear their writing might be interpreted.
And then there were those who simply marvelled at how we got here. How many kinds of dash does a person actually need? Why are we treating an innocent horizontal line like a character in a crime scene?
“When did this get so complicated? For years we just called it a dash. Now it feels like it carries moral weight.”
Others brought in linguistic nuance. For example, a reminder that French conventions differ completely, or that newsrooms use the em dash in distinctive ways.
Taken together, the comments formed a picture of something larger than punctuation. They reflected shifting norms, personal anxieties and the emotional weight people attach to writing. All prompted by a tiny mark on a page.
What the data shows
The analytics behind the LinkedIn post reinforce that sense of meaningful engagement.
More than 42,000 impressions and over 31,000 unique LinkedIn views is unusually high for a niche topic. But two metrics stand out:
- First, the comments: forty-plus replies on a non-controversial post is rare.
- Second, the saves: fourteen people saved the post to revisit it. That is a signal of depth, not just reach.
And the 250 people who clicked through to the blog suggest that readers did not just want a quick opinion – they wanted the longer story.
Then there is who responded. The largest job-title group was communications managers. Seniority levels skewed heavily towards senior, director and VP roles.
The top industry was PR and communications services. Locations clustered around major comms hubs: London, New York, Melbourne, Sydney and Toronto.
In other words, the people engaging were those who think seriously about writing, voice, clarity and trust. The conversation resonated because it felt personal and professionally relevant.
The comments themselves split into recognisable themes. Roughly half were positive or appreciative. Around forty percent were reflective or analytical, engaging with the idea from different angles.
A smaller number expressed frustration about AI-related misinterpretation or the way punctuation has become charged. Not one comment was hostile. For a post touching on AI, that is remarkable.
Why it matters
All of this suggests something important. We are living through a moment where the boundaries between human and machine-generated text are increasingly blurred. That makes people more attuned to how their writing looks and sounds. When a punctuation mark is treated as a cultural signal, it tells us more about our anxieties than about the mark itself.
Writers care about being recognised in their own words. They care about style, rhythm, tone and the quiet choices that reflect their intent. They care about readers trusting that what they have written represents them.
And they are keenly aware that tools like ChatGPT have absorbed and learned from the vast library of human writing that came before.
That was one point I made in the original post. If AI leans on the em dash, it is because we did first. We taught the machines our habits.
The irony is that some people now feel pressure to change those habits to avoid sounding like the tools that learned from them.
“Communications can be a self-flagellating industry. Even a comma or a dash can suddenly feel loaded.”
For communicators, that touches something deeper. It highlights the need to guide organisations, teams and leaders through questions that are as much about culture and identity as they are about technology.
It emphasises the importance of being intentional with voice. And it reminds us that clarity and authenticity start in the small things.
The em dash as a mirror
The reaction to the post was larger than the topic. But perhaps it needed a small subject to reveal something bigger. A punctuation mark became a mirror, showing how people feel about authorship, trust and the shifting norms of communication in an AI era.
Some of the stories shared were humorous; others were more reflective. A few reported wrestling with AI tools to produce the right dash, with the tools apologising politely while completely ignoring instructions.
“I tried everything to make my AI assistant place dashes the way I wanted. It apologised every time – and still ignored me.”
Others reflected on the absurdity of the whole saga.
Above all, the comments showed how deeply people value their voice. And that, I think, is the real story. In the ongoing dance between human intention and machine assistance, it is the smallest steps that show us how the rhythm is changing.
Sources:
- "A funny thing about AI writing: sometimes the smallest details make the most noise." – LinkedIn post and comments, 17 November 2025.
- When AI Lets Go of the em dash – 17 November 2025.
