Editing is an essential part of any writing journey. Whether it's a five-paragraph essay or a full-blown novel, no matter what sweet nothings our egos whisper into our ears, it's almost never perfect on the first draft.
And yet, although editing is essential, it's fascinating how varied a person's procedure or personal policy when it comes to editing is. The craft of it is interesting too. For the longest time, I thought editing was like tidying up a room, but there's a difference between a quick polish and a whole rearrangement. They're two different things altogether when cleaning a room, and even more so when cleaning up prose.
There's also the gut feeling of it all. How do you describe that sense that something in a passage is not quite right? That soft whisper that perhaps there's something in this paragraph that needs to change that'll strengthen the scene, chapter, or work as a whole? Is it some neurological condition? Undiagnosed OCD? Or the muse like Pressfield writes about in The War of Art?
Ultimately, editing is unavoidable, but it can also be liberating. The perception of it is almost always worse than the actual experience of editing. Usually, editing is never as bad as I imagine it's going to be, and it's almost always indescribably joyous whenever I complete a full edit on a chapter even if I'm sure there are pieces I'm still missing (because no matter what my ego believes, it's not perfect, just as good as my current skill level can take it).
Like drafting before it, I've come to accept and embrace editing as part of my writing journey. It's scary and it's daunting, but as a whole it ultimately strengthens the work. And as a writer, that's all I could ever want.
Thank you for your time and I hope you have a great day!
Sincerely,
Josh Acocella
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