I Hate Question Marks. Full Stop.

I hate question marks in dialogue.

Yes, I am a tertiary educated writer, and I still fucking hate question marks.

There’s always been this strange, inherent resistance in me whenever I reach a line that is, technically, a question. I hesitate. I stall. My fingertip hovers shakily above the curly (?) menace. It dares me to skip it. So, I do. Sometimes, I simply refuse to use the question mark at all.

For a long time, I didn’t fully understand why. My visceral hatred made no sense, and it contradicted everything I had learnt about the punctuation mark and its appropriate usage. Even ten-year-old me, who just started writing her first (shitty) book, would send me a bombastic side-eye.

So… why.

Why.

I wondered if I was just embracing contrarianism. For a while, I convinced myself that was the case. But no (ha), my contrarianism applied only to people that I wished to spite because they dared to annoy me three hours prior.

To my mild chagrin, my hatred of the question mark stemmed from something I learnt well before I learnt how to write.

Delivery.

You see, I was a theatre kid from the age of five. Shock-horror and cringe, yes, I am aware. I learnt how things should be said, how they should sound, well before I learnt that question marks meant I just asked a question.

When I grew up and attended university, I knew vaguely that punctuation affects delivery. That a question mark changes how a line is read. I always knew that to an extent, but I hadn’t examined that instinct in any depth or connected it to my discomfort.

When we ask a question, we inflect upwards.

It took longer for me to realise than it probably should have, because I'm Aussie. And in my video version of this rant on my TikTok, I inflected upwards at the end of that exact sentence.

If you prefer to watch a slightly more ramble-y and not-as-put-together version of this same topic, watch younger (and weirder looking) me talk about it here.

The Fuckin' Australians

As an Australian, it complicates things.

Aussies tend to go up at the end of our sentences even if it’s not a question. It’s literally built into our software, otherwise known as our charming accent.

That’s why Americans tend to get really confused when we talk, because they think we’re questioning them when we’re just talking about the miserable weather, Dropbears, or how we ride Kangaroos to school. The melody of the sentence rises, regardless of intent.

? Has More Power than Me ?

I don’t like the power the question mark has. It can overtake all other elements. When I write dialogue, I’m not just thinking about the punctuation. I’m thinking about delivery, tone, and intention—all things that a simple fuck-ass (?) can dominate, overpower, destroy.

The crux of the issue is that everybody (characters and real people alike) don’t always inflect upwards, even if asking a question.

Take a simple line:

‘Who is this.’

Low. Monotone. Threatening. Controlled. It’s more intimidating.

‘Who is this?’

It changes everything.

It might as well have choked out Delivery, beat Tone to a pulp, and skinned Intention alive before launching them into the sun.

With a question mark, the line lifts. It softens. It becomes uncertain, or inquisitive in a way I didn’t intend. The intimidation drains out of it (much like blood drains from Tone’s horrific injuries).

In my head, the character isn’t asking in a curious or polite way. They’re demanding. Or assessing. Or asserting control. The upward inflection implied by the question mark doesn’t match the voice I’m hearing.

So, I use a full stop instead.

I break the rules not because I don’t understand the rules, but because the rules don’t always produce the effect I want. And I think that is a valuable lesson all writers ought to learn.

Often, I provide proper context immediately following the question so—if in doubt—it’s established as a question. The reader knows it’s a question. The words themselves carry that meaning. The punctuation, at that point, feels redundant.

Or worse, misleading.

I'm Still the Problem... I Think

I first spoke about this over a year ago on my TikTok, and back then I hadn’t noticed a hesitance to use question marks with any other writers. To this day, I have yet to.

I have since spoken to a friend or two about this, and they said that while they did notice occasions in which I omitted a question mark, they shrugged and continued reading because a full stop in place of a question mark isn’t the end of the world, apparently.

For a long time, my feelings on this felt like a personal flaw. Every critique seemed to confirm it.

‘You forgot to put a question mark here?’

Technically correct. Yes, technically.

A part of me died every single time I got that critique, because I couldn’t explain why I left it out. I just knew that putting it in felt wrong.

But now I can explain why. Hallelujah.

It’s about how punctuation shapes the voice in the reader’s head. It’s about choosing tone over strict convention when the two come into conflict.

Is that a good reason. I think so.

Will everyone agree. Probably not.

Break the Rules, Kiddos

Fiction gives us room to make those choices. We’re not bound as tightly to formal rules as non-fiction is. We can bend them, break them, or ignore them entirely if it serves the story. In a way, Non-Fiction is Fiction’s well-behaved older sibling, rolling their eyes and giving the cold shoulder to Fiction as they (literally and figuratively and metaphorically) bounce off the walls and launch into the stratosphere.

I mean, fuck, just read The Road by Cormac McCarthy. It’s excruciating. It’s an experience. It’s permission to break the fucking rules.

Be honest. What are you doing with your question marks.

• Using them like a responsible adult
• Using them until they kill the vibe
• What are question marks.

The Question Mark is...

• Innocent. Leave her alone
• Useful, but a bit dramatic
• A menace to society

Your Relationship with (?)

• Healthy and respectful
• Complicated
• Strained and Suspicious
• Open Hostility