Cocounsel tells you, “Redline the draft all you want.” The line sounds generous; the premise is shaky. It assumes that the draft is redlinable. Often it isn’t. Some drafts don’t call for tweaks; they call for a total do-over. The structure is off, the theory wanders, the emphasis misses the point. The “redline” then becomes performance art: delete a paragraph, drop in a new one, over and over, until the final document barely remembers the first. At that stage, tracked changes don’t enlighten; they punish. Each page turns into a thicket of strikethroughs and margin bubbles, with lines shooting sideways like tripwires. Yes, you can click “No Markup” and pretend it’s clean. But if you must hide the edits just to make the draft readable, you haven’t revised—you’ve rebuilt.
That’s when judgment and tact matter more than the software. When the rewrite is wholesale, send a clean draft. It’s quicker to read, easier to absorb, and kinder to your colleague’s morale. A sea of red can feel like demolition; a fresh draft feels like progress. Still, don’t just drop it into someone’s inbox and disappear. Add a short, generous cover note—a deliberately warm thank‑you: “Joe—Thanks for the terrific first draft. It gave me a strong base to work from, and I’ve taken a pass at tightening the structure and reworking some things.”—Ellen.” That small courtesy does serious work. It shows respect, preserves the collaboration, and blunts what might otherwise look like an aggressive rewrite. Good editors improve documents; great editors improve documents without damaging relationships.