Edits
Necessary parts of the process that have much to teach.
After nearly twelve years of compiling my writing online - from my blog to external websites, the material largely stands on its own. When I began writing in earnest during law school, I developed a system where I used a pen & pad to document my initial outline, and then I edited while typing on my laptop. I love what has resulted: I have a corpus of writing across the Internet, conveying my opinions on politics, religion, race, relationships, family, and inequality. A decent amount of my work includes the eyes of a second reviewer, but most of it is only seen by me before being sent out to the public.
These days, given how long I’ve been doing it, I write a few lines in a notebook to capture an essay idea (like this one) and elaborate on the theme as I’m on the platform. I’m a better editor than I once was, but I could stand to improve. On Substack, a writer will be alerted of a misspelled word (Substack itself just came up as one), but errors related to syntax and grammar will largely pass by without its technology noticing them. In a sense, I appreciate this call to vigilance; as I write these essays, I try to scrupulously track the document for mistakes. Still, some escape me, like one passage in Book Review: Solidarity with Children from November:
[As Dr. Lane-McKinley continues along their assessment of how children have been disenfranchised and disregarded across history, and they highlight a fact that stood out to me when I read We Do This 'Til We Free Us In 2021]
A superfluous word exists: either the ‘as’ or the second ‘and.’ I had so much fun writing that essay and getting it out into the world. Still, as a writer, I sometimes become transfixed on a small error like that one.
Why didn’t I read that more closely before pressing the publish button?
As we settle into 2026, and recognize the increasingly high stakes in the global fight to win a better world, an important lesson emerges from the editing process of a writer. Sure, it can be gratifying to revise accurately and avoid the typo in the final version. However, a significant principle comes forth when observing an imperfect piece:
I’m human, and I remain - and should strive to continually be - teachable.
I learn a great deal from these missed edits, and they also pull me back to my old work so that I can legitimately reflect on my evolution of thought. In their own way, these errors reinforce that the right ideas are intended to be exchanged, challenged, and ultimately strengthened.
In my political work, socialist organizing, and creative endeavors, I need to keep this philosophy in the forefront of my mind. Accordingly, keep expecting to hear from me - perhaps with an error or two in the body of an essay - on my belief that a future rooted in democratic collectivism is what is required after the extremely challenging epoch of the second Trump administration. I will be ready with my pen to take notes - and edit what is necessary - to achieve socialism.


Lovw this!
As I tell my students, they should submit writing with superfluous words and containing a few "mistakes" if they want to succeed in the course, and they should not ever think using AI even to correct grammar so that it's "perfect" is better than the risk of me reading all their own flaws....
Writets is human, and as writers we are never perfect, but always learning. Perfect is soulless and can't be taight and so can't learn.
Clearly I'm my mastery of the superfluous and of overlooking the small mistake, and this perfectly suoted to be teachkng Composition I!!!
!
I always tell myself that I’m a human. And that’s a good thing. ESPECIALLY with the rise of AI. We are the humans.