~ Kevin Kelly

When I am done with a draft of this newsletter, I send it to Shannon whose edits and feedback make the post immeasurably better. This is the most editing I have ever allowed my writing to enjoy. Instead, over the past 15 years, I have created content at a breakneck pace with no time for second-guessing, much less redoing. Mark Twain famously quipped, “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter,” and I feel very seen by him. #TeamLongLetters

Famously, I once wrote a 10,000-word essay for a software blog about the history of prose. Although I guess I wrote it infamously—er, rather, non-famously—because no one read it. The post has become famous only because I talk about it often, publicly, whenever I need an example of a time I thought I had the world by the tail and could do no wrong only to be humbled by crickets. The post was good, but it was not great, because after writing 10,000 words, I had no time left to edit before I was off to write the next thing. 

Tech workers are often encouraged to move fast and break things, or we’re reminded what happens when sharks stop swimming. They die. (Tech workers are sharks in this metaphor, for some reason.) 

Nobody wants to die, and everyone is okay with breaking things, so off we go, producing output as fast as we can, constantly swimming, constantly creating. 

This hamster wheel is not necessarily a great environment for creativity.

Nor does it support a healthy editing process. 

But Kevin Kelly is right. Great work takes time. The best things I’ve ever created all benefited from my having time and space to take a first pass, then figure out—whether on my own or with a collaborator—what parts of the work I needed to redo and redo and redo. (Keeping in mind, of course, that action creates clarity. Not thinking.) 

So, what makes this important creative act of editing so difficult? For me, it comes down to two big fears. 

1. FOSO (Fear of Starting Over). I really really really don’t want to have to throw it all away and start from scratch. 

2. Fear of The Neverending Story (not the movie, which is a favorite childhood film of mine, although the flying bearded dragon did make me a little fearful actually). I get nervous that once I start editing, the editing will never end. You know what they say: “The enemy of done is perfect.” They say this usually right before they tell you the shark anecdote.

But against all odds—and with the help of some wonderful editors and collaborators—I have found myself embracing revision more and more. My editing journey has happened slowly, painstakingly. If this rings true for you, too, maybe these three lessons might help. I’m still re-learning them every day.

Write on Monday, edit on Tuesday

Part of my rocky road with editing is that I save all my work—the research and the making and the editing—til the very end, and I’m literally out of time before something needs to be shipped: blog posts, emails, newsletters, campaign briefs, strategic presentations. 

(Believe it or not, I have thus far failed in asking for extensions from the C-suite on that presentation that was due because I read a Kevin Kelly quote that made me believe my presentation could be even greater if I just had more time.)

So rather than hope to find editing time at the end, what I’ve done instead is build editing into the process from the beginning. 

For our Bonfire newsletters, we usually write the initial drafts on Monday and Tuesday then hand off to the other person to edit on Wednesday or Thursday. This process has saved me from publishing a lot of dregs!

When I was writing four blog posts a week as a content creator (I do not recommend doing this, btw), I had a whole system: 

• Monday: Research blog post #1

• Tuesday: Write blog post #1, research blog post #2

• Wednesday: Edit and publish blog post #1, write blog post #2, research blog post #3

• Etc.

It wasn’t the most luxurious schedule, clearly. But at least I wasn’t frantically birthing a listicle moments before I hit publish. 

To the extent that you are able, build your editing into your process from the beginning, and try your best to save your first draft for one day and your editing for a second day so that you have time to sleep on it. Sleep works wonders for perspective!

Kill your darlings. Tell your darlings, “We decided to go in another direction.”

I do not like the idea of killing anything. Which is maybe why I’ve always struggled to embrace this popular bit of writing advice. Too violent. Needs a re-brand.

The purpose behind this statement is actually quite sound: We are often so enamored of our first ideas and favorite turns of phrase and pet projects that they can get in the way of us actually delivering on something great. We can very easily get caught up in our love for certain parts of the things we create, even when there’s plenty of evidence that no one else cares about them as much as we do. There is, of course, virtue in creating things that we like, regardless of outside opinion. But there’s also value in some much-needed perspective on how our work may or may not resonate with others. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to break the news to our darlings.

My editor hack/approach has been to focus on where my darlings show up most often: 

• The first paragraph of something I’ve written. Nowadays I write my first draft then go back and delete the first paragraph because it is almost always needless. Perhaps you feel that way about the opening paragraph to this newsletter? (Gulp!)

• The first idea that comes to my mind in a brainstorm. I try not to get so caught up with a first idea that it prevents me from coming up with any others. Sometimes the first idea ends up being the best idea, but oftentimes it’s just the seed for something better.

Don’t throw away the trash

Remember my Fear of Starting Over and how I really really don’t want to throw it all away? Well, my fears came true a couple months ago. I threw away a newsletter! It was a little painful, yes, but I knew that rushing this particular newsletter out the door would have meant publishing something that was only good, not great. I strive for greatness with all our newsletters, if you can believe that. 

But rather than dump it in the virtual rubbish, I am holding onto it for another day when I actually do have the time and space to turn my little piece of GDocs coal into a diamond, or when I want to pull off bits and pieces to combine with a new idea. 

Danielle Raine calls this the Home for Rescued Darlings (because “killing” is anathema to her, too), and I love the idea that we are not throwing away all these unused and misplaced pieces of our art, but are simply rescuing them to be used another day.

Creativity is, at its core, about connecting ideas. Editing not only makes a good thing great, but it also prunes away ideas that can be repurposed later. There can be tons of optimism when one of your ideas has to be redone. Think of all the new ideas it can inspire. 

If one direction isn’t looking great, then maybe a handful of wrong directions can make a right direction. 

Over to you

What is your relationship like with editing? How much time and space do you give yourself to redo your creative projects and your art? 

We’d love to hear from you.

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Kumbaya,Shannon & Kevan