Finding A More Coherent Close

Yesterday, I did something I don't normally do after someone commented on an essay I wrote...

I rewrote it.

I'd been sitting at my desk, working on admin stuff in the back-end of Substack. The notification bubble was bugging me, so I clicked it with the sole intention of making it go away. What I saw, however, gave me pause.

There was a new comment on a piece I wrote recently, but it hadn't performed all that well, so I was surprised to see that someone had engaged with it. Hovering over the tab I needed to get back to, my curiosity got the better of me and I clicked the comment notification instead. I'm glad I did. I'd liked that essay and their comment made me smile. Honestly, I'd been a bit caught off guard by the lack of response it originally got, so I went and re-read it. Almost immediately, I realized what'd gone wrong. And, the more I read, the clearer things got.

While I thought the overall scaffolding and guts of what I'd written were good, its features felt clunky—like the "curb appeal" needed work.

• I'd botched the headline.
• I'd jumped between tenses in the opening.
• I didn't re-establish the scene for a satisfying conclusion.

Which sucked to realize because once it hits readers' inboxes, it is what it is. Still, I always end up revising things I publish, even if no one will see the changes. I admit, those edits are mostly for me, but I do it anyway if I believe it'll make the piece better. Also, I think it helps me continue to get better, too. And that's what I actually care about.

Usually, when I revise published work, it's small stuff; like updating a headline that whiffed because it failed to clearly tease the contents of the piece both concisely and accurately. But after seeing that comment notification, I did something I don't normally do and I reworked the writing structure of the body of the piece.

My eyebrows climbed higher and higher in a sort of "hmm... well how 'bout that?" expression as I made my way through the paragraphs. After adding a few clarifying sentences and tightening a transition or two, I thought back on the last six months. I'd wanted to sharpen my skills and improve my writing; suddenly, I could see that I had.

Fingers tapping on my desk, I re-read the changes I'd made. I felt especially proud of how I'd been able to rework the conclusion so the thing finally felt like it had some curb appeal from top to bottom.

Satisfied, I published the changes—content with knowing that almost no one will see them except for me.

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Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
164/365

When's the last time something shocked you by illustrating how far you've come?

If you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along. And if something stuck with you while reading, I'd love to know what it was.

onward.

For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here.