Professional writers are a sensitive and protective lot, and there’s nothing quite like the gut-punch of an email that says, “We made a few edits.” Even after decades of writing and editing, I still feel it sometimes—that little flutter of anxiety, the subtle sting to the ego. For most of us who take pride in our work, it’s not just about the words being changed. It’s about what it feels like those changes imply: “You weren’t good enough.” “You missed the mark.” “You didn’t get it right.”
And when you’re already feeling uncertain or trying to rebuild after a rough stretch, as I am, those edits can feel deeply personal. Why does it feel so personal even when it shouldn’t? Writing is vulnerable work, especially when it’s for clients or corporations. You are putting your judgment, creativity, and professionalism on the line with every submission. And when you’ve been through a series of hardships such as downsizing, financial instability, and health issues in rapid succession, it’s easy for even a small critique to echo with a much louder message. But here’s the truth: the edit isn’t about you. It’s about the work.
When I made the leap from the golf writing world into the corporate space years ago as my main gig, I experienced this in a big way. One of my first assignments at Christie Digital came back riddled with red markup. I remember thinking, Well, that’s it. I blew it. It’s time to look for another job. But I hadn’t. I just hadn’t learned their style yet. Soon enough, the markups were fewer. Then, I was the one editing other people’s work. Before long, I became the go-to when someone needed a piece turned around fast and clean. It didn’t happen overnight, but it did happen.
The same thing is playing out now with one of my new clients. A few edits came back from an external partner, and even though I knew better, I felt that familiar pang. Did I mess up? Are they second-guessing me? Will they regret hiring me? But then I remembered: this is just part of the process. Over the years, I’ve come to realize that edits are not rejections—they’re conversations. And when you’re working across international borders, industries, or brand voices, they’re also a sign of alignment in progress.
I’m writing for a European audience with this new client. Their tone, structure, and expectations are a bit different than what we see in North America. That difference doesn’t mean I wrote it wrong; it just means I need to calibrate. When I used to edit content coming out of European and Asian offices, I saw the exact same thing in reverse. Here are a few reframes that help me, and I hope they help you, when edits hit a nerve:
- They’re not editing me. They’re refining the message.
- If they didn’t trust me, I wouldn’t have been hired—or rehired.
- This isn’t failure. This is alignment.
- Everyone needs an editor, and even Pulitzer Prize winners get edited. So do I.
When I take a breath and look at things clearly, a lot is going right: I am delivering on deadlines and usually before, I’m giving my best effort and self-editing, proofing for flow, and checking for tone before I send it off; I am getting new assignments from this client and others, I am learning and adapting, and I am staying open, not defensive. All of that matters more than a few suggested changes. Building confidence with new clients takes time and a few, or even many, red mark-ups along the way. However, it also comes with growth and a deeper appreciation for the work.
A Note to My Fellow Writers
If you’ve ever felt your stomach drop at the sight of track changes … you’re not alone. Been there. If you’ve ever spiraled into self-doubt after a “revised version attached”… Been there. But the fact that you carefully massage and rework your first draft and feel it means you’re taking the work seriously. And that matters. The goal isn’t to never feel the sting. The goal is to learn to keep going anyway. So when the next round of edits lands in your inbox, take a moment. Breathe. Don’t write a narrative that isn’t there. You’re not being dismissed. You’re being refined. If you’ve been through a stretch where your confidence has taken a hit—whether from layoffs, a serious car accident that turned your life upside down, burnout, rejection, or just the daily grind of freelancing—I get it. This blog entry isn’t just about edits. It’s about remembering that your work still matters, even when you are second-guessing every sentence. Keep showing up. Keep refining. The confidence will catch up.
If you’re a writer or creative who’s felt this, too, I’d love to hear your story. Drop a comment to remind each other we’re not alone in this.
John Berkovich Talks 