The Strange Logic of Writing and Editing

I’m deep into what I’m calling my second round of editing on my latest novel.

Now, technically, it’s the first proper full pass since I typed “The End.” But like many writers (or at least, like me), I have this persistent habit of editing as I go. A bit here, a fix there. A new paragraph today, a total rewrite of yesterday’s chapter tomorrow. So by the time I reach the end of the first draft, it’s already been through a strange, stitched-together semi-editing process. Not quite polished, not quite raw.

That’s why it feels like round two—because in my head, I've already been doing the editorial dance for months.

Clear as mud? Good.

This round, though, I’m treating it as the real deal: zooming out to see the big picture, checking for plot holes, trimming the fat, and sharpening what needs to cut deeper. It’s oddly satisfying and maddening in equal measure. Like rearranging bones in a skeleton you grew from scratch.

So, here I am: armed with a red pen, a lot of tea, and the usual doubts. But also with something I didn’t have at the start—an actual finished story to shape. That feels like progress.

If you're a fellow writer, do you count edits as you go? Or do you wait until the end before lifting the editorial scalpel? I'm curious how others navigate the blurry line between writing and rewriting.