Writing you the perfect post
Four and a half pieces of advice for sharing your words online
I began my Substack space because I had the itch to write online again (having enjoyed blogging back in my blogging days). But it took me a really long time to get going on this platform; something had been holding me back. It was the thought that, as my profession is writing, copyediting, and proofreading, I’d have to make sure that what I write here is perfect. Because imagine how embarassing it would be, for example, if I missed a tpyo, left a double space, or spelt embarrassing with only one ‘r’?
This fear that people would expect my writing to be perfect – or, worse, that they’d be actively looking out for my mistakes – meant I pushed aside the idea of starting a Substack. Then, at the beginning of the year, thinking of what I’d like 2024 to be about, I allowed the fear to swish around a bit, and some more helpful thoughts bobbed up.
I’m sharing my journal thoughts here as encouragement for anyone holding back on putting words out there because of the fear of making mistakes.
As a proofreader, I know that even a proofread article is not a perfect article. Yes, it is important that written communication is as clear and correct as possible, especially in this super-fast world when we’re unlikely to be reading with our full attention and don’t have the time to re-read a line to get the sense of it. However, it is a misconception that proofread equals perfect. Our job is to get the text to a point where there’s a risk that making one more change or correction would only introduce another error in the next stage of the publishing process. A metaphor I learnt from my editing training is to think of different types of ‘errors’ as spun-around signposts, crumpled maps, broken stiles, dead ends, brambles, bumps, and bogs. The aim is not perfection; the aim is to remove these barriers to understanding, and reduce the risk of readers tripping over a word, whilst still allowing/accepting a little adventure.
Why would anyone be trying to catch me out? When I’m reading something someone else has written, I’m not hoping they’ve made mistakes. Even when I’m editing or proofreading, it is always from the expectation that the writer already has things mostly ‘right’. So, why wouldn’t my readers be as kind to me?
I have joked with friends and family that the better proofreader I become, the more typos there are in my WhatsApp messages. The concentration and care I give to writing, copyediting, and proofreading work, and the flow state I’m in while doing it, means that in other modes of writing, such as messaging, I go far the other way. So can I invite a bit of the freedom of those more informal spaces into this one on Substack?
The idea that writing could ever be a place of pure fear for me is, in itself, scary. Writing is where I feel like I can swim – where I feel at one with the world. It’s a place of ease, energy, and the best kind of trepidation: a fear that is exactly balanced by excitement and fun. That’s what creates the need and the momentum to write. Time and again, I think of these wise words from Marlon James in an ‘in conversation’ with Jeanette Winterson in The Guardian in 2015:
Writing is the greatest fun I’ve ever had. And I know this with painters, I know this with dancers: if it’s the hardest friggin’ work you’ve ever done, and the most fun you’ve ever had, and you can never resolve that, that’s it. That’s where you should be.
It’s okay to share something even if I haven’t done all the thinking there is to do about it. And even if I don’t have a fully formed ‘five pieces of advice’ list.
