Curse of The Perfect Text
By: Gioacchino Difazio
Tags: Writing, Editing, Procrastination, Writing Tips, Editing And Proofreading

Imagine buying a book and reading it. Let’s say it’s a novel. You liked it so much that you recommend it to a friend of yours, who reads it and appreciates it.

The first time you meet at dinner, you talk about it.

I find brilliant the idea of ​​the virus that infects the protagonist’s car autonomous driving system, making it autistic and unable to communicate with the driver — You say with enthusiasm.

What are you talking about? The protagonist’s car is equipped with an equine artificial intelligence system, which leads it to deviate from the highways to run in the prairies! Very funny. — She replies, amazed.

What’s going on?

Have you read the same book, or by mistake have you read two different ones?

Having made the necessary checks, you discover that yes, you have read the same book. At least, the title and the author are the same. But as you continue to converse, you discover that the books you have read actually differ in many ways. Sometimes it is a matter of details, other times of more substantial aspects of the story.

It happens that, in the parallel universe in which you live, books are not definitive objects but fluid texts that the author continues to modify in a continuous quest for perfection.

Only the author’s death will crystallize the book’s content giving it definitiveness (fortunately, the authors are not immortal).

Does it sound like a science fiction story?

It’s not at all. I have just described what can happen (what does happen) in the universe you and I are in now.

It happens to me, for example.

I keep editing my articles even if they have been published for a long time. Regarding, for example, my first article (which I posted over a year ago), the thing that satisfies me least is the title: in my opinion, it doesn’t give a good idea of the content. I’ve changed it several times (I know it’s not a good SEO practice) and believe I will do it again until I find the right title. And I have edited the text several times.

I have a habit of not considering the Publish button as something definitive. Otherwise, I would never have published a single article.

Knowing that a few small corrections can be made even after publication helps in beating procrastination—that particular type of procrastination caused by perfectionism (which is itself procrastination). So I can publish a story and lull myself into the thought of correcting and refining it gradually.

In one shot, I got two results:

1. publish my paper without delay;

2. reassure my very severe inner critic (he will be able to intervene later, as many times as he wants).

You feel more easily willing to publish your article, even if it does not meet your quality standards 100%, because you know that you can make a few small changes even after publication… The downside is never to consider an article truly finished and return to it again and again to achieve perfection. An inability to let go of one’s writings, which could cause emotional overload…

I remember reading the story of a painter who continued to retouch his paintings even when they were exhibited in the Louvre. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the name of the painter or the author of the story. If any kind reader finds out, please inform me so I can quote it correctly (a great excuse to edit this article again).

But is it right to extend the editing phase beyond the boundaries of publication?

Publish comes from the Latin “publicare,” which means to make something known to the public. And writing that is made public cannot be as iridescent as the reflection of light on a soap bubble.

A reader needs certainty.

Really?

For readers, being faced with an always changing, “alive” text can be a challenge.

Many would hate such a text, while others would derive enjoyment from its mutability.

Of course, the author could create real “editions” of each text and publish them all so that they all live together and can be distinguished.

But I believe that authors who often intervene in their own texts (like me) would not appreciate being surrounded by previous versions of their writings, which they would see better delivered to oblivion. They want to get rid of the very concept of “edition.”

If they changed a phrase, it was because they found it trivial, or not very musical, or unsatisfactory in some way. So, unless they suffer from an acute form of literary fetishism, I think they wish there would be no trace of it.

So, I’m left with the question:

to edit or not to edit?

I already know that I will need to come back and edit this article soon.