Yes or No? Editing an essay after it’s been published is OK
Plus a look at writing about challenging relationships…
Today’s post is looking at two reader-submitted questions in the month of January:
- asked if it’s OK to change an essay after it’s been published. ( and had great feedback/perspectives to share with her, too!)
And
asked for advice about how to write about a “complicated and difficult relationship.” See what , and had to say.
1. Editing an essay after you’ve published it
Emmy’s question is a great one, the short version of my response is thus: Given Substack’s structure, editing an essay post-publication is not only permissible, it might sometimes be essential. In fact, the only time I would pause and evaluate my impulse to edit an essay is to make sure I’m 1) not changing a crucial thesis or point, rendering it unrecognizable from the original essay or 2) not ‘burying the body’ after receiving a justified complaint or correction. With that in mind, let’s look at why it might even be beneficial to edit an essay after it’s been published.
I think Emmy’s desire to make the essay as complete as possible is a really solid guiding light in online publishing. As a general rule, I think writers can trust and explore their instincts when they’re motivated to create an even more valuable experience for readers.
Generally speaking, the essays we write can sometimes benefit from polishing and even updating. I make it a practice to go back through my top-performing essays and tweak subheadings, sentences and the closing call to action to make sure they’re as relevant and interesting as possible.
Updating essays is also a way to help Google recognize your writing as fresh, recently updated and hence, more reliable. (Note: This could be considered a “hack” thing to do, but I think in the right context it’s what smart writers take into consideration. If your message is still applicable and you’ve updated it to be relevant to today’s reader, give your writing that chance to be found more readily in search settings.)1
Because of the way Substack is set up, it creates two separate reader experiences to keep in mind. The first experience to consider is the one readers encounter when they get a new essay in the app or in their inbox. The second experience to consider is the one that readers see when they land on an essay for the first time. The call-to-action buttons you insert could benefit from updating. (For me, my first drafts include at least one “Leave a Comment” button so anyone reading my work via email can easily jump right into the comments section. But once that essay is live on Substack, I like to go in and change up the buttons sometimes. It’s an ongoing experiment I have, but it’s something to keep in mind!)
2. Writing about complex relationships
Debbie’s question earlier this month caught my attention because it’s a quandary for many writers: how do we write about a complex relationship? She noted in her question that while she’s taken some opportunities to write about her father, writing about her mother hasn’t come as easily. I think all of us have a relationship—whether with a parent, a former love, a lost friend—that eventually starts to poke at the surface of our writing life.
My main point of interest in Debbie’s question is to wonder if she’s keeping track of the memories that are coming to the surface: are there certain moments that float through her mind, seemingly out of nowhere? If so, I would be writing them down, as best I could, without judgment or narrative. I find that when memory is trying to push through the surface, it shows up not in tidy sentences, but flashes of imagery. At face value, these reflections might seem inconsequential, but woven together over a period of weeks or months, they might be telling a story even we ourselves can’t see just yet. If you find this sort of imagery showing up, you might find this process I developed to be helpful:
Identify 3 to 4 objects in the image: a coffee pot, a sandwich, a familiar set of shoes, a lock of dark brown hair. The objects do not have to be related, and they do not have to make sense. I just write them down.
Identify the names of people who the image might remind me of (even if these aren’t factual!): if the coffee pot reminds me of my mother, but I know it belonged to a long-lost aunt, I might jot down: “Mother … Aunt Frida.”
Give myself space from reviewing these descriptions for a few weeks, but remain diligent about writing them down, like an objective journalist might record disparate incidents.
The gathering time on these images is pretty different from person to person, but I find after about three to four weeks of diligently writing down my short-hand notes, they start to weave together in my mind. Sometimes I’ll double check the notes, sometimes not. This process is something I’ve never shared before, so if you decide to try it, let me know!
In my experience with challenging relationships, I find that I usually need a significant amount of time and space from them before I’m ready to bring them into my writing. But when that urge starts showing up, it’s one of the best indicators that fruitful writing is coming toward me. I can’t wait to read more from Debbie!
Caveat: If you write highly topical/timely pieces that tend to circulate outside of Substack and/or go viral, this is unadvisable from an SEO perspective.
Thank you Amanda!! Was so surprised to see your mention of my question. I love your note taking idea. On it! In addition, right after my mother died in Feb. ‘23 I started making a list, and have kept adding to it, of *positive* things (scenes, anecdotes) I remembered about her. From my childhood or young adulthood or even more recently. That list is important because there are, unfortunately, a number of painful things to remember too. Complicated, yes.
I’ve realized that the biggest takeaway, especially since this is a new and ever changing platform, is to engage. As cheesy as it sounds, commenting and talking amongst peers goes a long way. Best of all, you might meet a new friend or two while introducing yourself to the class!