In the philosophy of slow consumption, slow web, and slow tech, there's an emphasis on revitalisation. Instead of prioritising the latest thing, let's upcycle our old clothing, revive our old devices, and continue to enjoy what we've enjoyed for years already. I'm especially drawn to the idea of upcycled technology, both hardware and software: browing the slow, small web on an old device is a happy marriage.
What about ideas and creative works? Can we apply the same criticisms and philosophies? What started as some reflections about feed-based platforms quickly spiralled outwards into thoughts about writing, creations, and ideas in general.
New is always better
Forward progress. Pushing on. Forging paths. It seems that, culturally, the attitude is that new is always better. The only way to make progress is forward, that is, into new territory. It's better to write new essays than to revise old ones, create new songs, have new ideas. Editing isn't as externally valued as creating: no one hypes their fire revision to an old album.
The modern web doesn't help. The very concept of a feed, which displays entries chronologically, expects creation only. This design choice affects both sides: creators and consumers. Posters aren't rewarded for editing, only for posting. Consumers are only shown and notified about new posts. Both sides are only taught to value new content. On feed-based platforms (which include all popular sites and formats, like Instagram, YouTube, Twitter, podcasts, and even RSS feeds), editing is not expected, or, in some cases, even supported, behaviour. It is certainly never celebrated nor rewarded.
But chonologically sorting posts is only one of the many different ways to sort posts. Why not sort by length, longest articles or videos first? Or by poster's choice? Or, more facetiously, by number of edits? In defaulting to chronological sorting, feeds implicitly prioritise newness above all else. When (functionally) all of the internet is now delivered by feed, prioritising newness is the only paradigm we have. Why even consider editing, when we've only been taught to post?
Creating isn't just more externally valuable, though. From the point of view of the author, or songwriter, or filmmaker, creating something new is exciting! I have my own collection of half-written drafts, started in zeal then abandoned. It is more internally satisfying, at least immediately, to work on something new. Revision can be tedious or difficult. Once the newness of an idea or project has worn off, returning to it can feel like pulling teeth. Even if it isn't painful, revising something is necessarily less novel than creating something new.
Polishing and revisiting
So there are many forces swaying us toward creation rather than revision. Why even bother with anything else?
To be clear, I am not a traditionalist by any means. An old, established practice is not inherently more valuable than a new one. I am not arguing for preservation, or against innovation, here. Instead, I'd like to highlight ongoing re-examination and reflection. I want to encourage considering that something is never done or complete, to spotlight intellectual cultivation.
Editing happens in many forms. With writing as an example, some people self-edit as they work. After a draft materialises, editing can be a prolonged process of rereading, rewording, and reshaping, sometimes with multiple people in conversation. Or, after a long time, an author can revisit a project and make changes with the wisdom or freshness of distance. Ultimately, creating something new is sometimes only half of the story. Then, the full creation is a practice, of back and forth between the current version and another version.
Some authors frown on editing in the moment. They advise getting all the words and ideas out first, metaphorically "onto paper", before going back for changes. This advice can help if someone is truly stuck or getting in their own way, but I find that editing as I write (or otherwise create) is just another way of self-expression. Many authors and bloggers (including me!) have observed that the act of writing is a way of working through your own thoughts, of making or strengthing connections among them once they are externalised, of fleshing them out into complete ideas. If that is a purpose of your writing, than editing as you go can be just as valuable as writing itself. Of all the forms of editing, I'd guess this kind is the most common, because it often goes hand-in-hand with creation itself. When creating something new to post or publish, it's hard to avoid this type of immediate editing.
On the other hand, editing as a practice over time is harder to justify in our society of immediacy, newness, and chronological feeds, though no less valuable. If art and creation represents our self-expression, then editing over time represents reflection, introspection, and refinement of those ideas. When creating flows into an editing process that may include other people, the creator and any other people involved are polishing the idea, crystallising it. They are forming their idea into a structured, complete thought, discovering and defining its edges. They are committing to it intellectually. If editing is instead taking place well afterwards, then the creative is revisiting their work, their original state of mind, and giving themselves the opportunity to reflect on how their ideas may have evolved since then. Have they learned or experienced something that reinforces what they thought before? Has the flavour of the perspective changed? Or do they have a completely new opinion?
Of any form, whether immediate, in the medium term, or in the long term, editing and its accompanying reflection is valuable for both the creative and their audience. Refining, revising, or upending your ideas is the craft of personal growth. Observing a creative go through this process, as a member of their audience, directs and inspires your own growth.
Old is always better?
Just as I am not a traditionalist, I am also not of the opinion that every work needs editing forever. Not everything even needs a single editing pass. There is a place for both creation that happens as a single event, as well as creation that is a practice of repeated refinement. The first type of creation serves its own purpose: as a way of quickly expressing ideas, a snapshot of how the creator was feeling at the time. I have written several blog posts that have never been edited, that I see as a time capsule of that particular day or event. As many have observed, too much hand-wringing over perfection will stifle creativity, so that nothing is ever completed or shared. However, there is also an important place for a piece of work that lives and breathes, that evolves, that through continued attention inspires the author themselves to evolve. My worry is that this type of work is under-emphasised by our current systems, so under-practiced. Consider this essay a plea of recognition for the second type of creation, the type that is both backwards and forwards looking. While the first type enjoys all the attention, the second generally is underrepresented.
On my own website, I try to explicitly distinguish between these two types of works, as either blog posts or essays. Of course, that requires predicting which topics or ideas I might want to go back to in the future. Sometimes, blog posts that seem to capture ideas in the moment contain ideas that stick with me unexpectedly. In that case, I think about consolidating or developing the idea into a front-page essay. In the same way, I grow disinterested in some essay topics, allowing them to languish without any further care. The border between these two practices of writing is hazy. Overall, though, drawing the line is helpful because it brings editing to my attention. It creates space, on my website, in my writing, and in my mind, for this otherwise neglected style of creation.
After all, when browsing the works of a prolific author or musician, there is no ex post importance to their most recent items. Often, the body of work itself is what's emphasised. The best or highest quality works may be earlier ones, or even non-existant if the creative's real contribution was all their work as a cohesive whole. More personally, when I think about what I have written, I don't have any reason to like the newest things the most. Feed-based dissemination can only encourage fast ideas, fast publication, fast circulation, and fast irrelevance: the creative equivalent to fast fashion. In your own space, whether a personal website or just inside your mind, you can make room instead to return, to nuture, to grow.