Self-editing can be hard at first; but as is so often true, practice makes perfect—and, in this case, it also makes better writing. In addition to correcting the obvious typos, a worthy goal of self-editing is word-pinching: conveying your message in the tightest, clearest prose possible. Word-pinching isn’t purely about cutting words for its own sake—though to the uninitiated, it can feel that way. Rather, it’s about clarity, concision, and consideration.
Tighter writing is clearer. Shorter sentences are easier to follow because they don't require diagramming to identify the subject and verb. This doesn’t mean every sentence has to read like one from a kindergarten reader: See Spot. See Spot run. Spot runs fast. Some of the world’s best authors loved long sentences—but unless your prose is in their league, probably best to leave the 300-word sentences to Dickens, Woolf, Hugo, and the rest. More important than any strict length limits, what matters is your sentences are easy to decipher and they vary in length, making your writing more interesting.
Striving for concision not only aids clarity but can also demonstrate mastery of the topic. It’s hard to explain briefly a process or situation of which you don’t have a full grasp (as noted in a recent Wall Street Journal op-ed). But if you can take a complex subject and distill it into several short, tightly argued, clear paragraphs, your reader will appreciate your expertise.
Concision is also more considerate of readers, who have myriad priorities competing for their interest. Given the choice between a 500- and a 1000-word piece on the same topic, most readers will likely choose the shorter—not only because it will take them less time to read, but also because it’s (almost certainly) better written.
As for how to tighten your writing, much of it is practice—rereading frequently and eliminating every extraneous word. But some easily identified word-pinching targets provide a starting point—namely infinitives, phrases beginning with “of,” and “that.”
Infinitives are verbs proceeded by "to"—e.g., to read, to go, to be. Though occasionally necessary, infinitives can often be replaced by the “-ing” verb form. For example, a couple paragraphs ago, I could instead have written, “To strive for concision aids clarity” —but "to strive" is unnecessary and longer than "striving." This doesn’t always work—“Being or not being: that is the question” inarguably lacks the poetical ring of “To be or not to be: that is the question"—but it's worth considering when editing.
Similarly, prepositional phrases beginning with “of” can sometimes be replaced by a possessive. For example: "Jimmy wanted to go to the house of his best friend, Bobby" can be tightened to "Jimmy wanted to go to his best friend Bobby’s house." The wordier route may be necessary—perhaps the shortened version unacceptably alters the emphasis—but given the aim is rigorously eliminating excess words wherever possible, it's worth considering whether it might be tightened.
Finally, watch for “that”—which is almost always unnecessary but is a sneaky word-count contributor. I catch it all the time in my writing despite striving to avoid it while drafting. As ever, this isn't a fixed rule—clarity requires the occasional "that"—but surprisingly few. The easiest way to decide whether to cut one is reading the sentence without it—if it’s decipherable, leave it out. If you stumble—either immediately upon cutting it or during a later rereading—it may be worth restoring.
Editing and rewriting, though hard work, are worthwhile efforts which will improve writing quality. But don't take my word for it:
Consider all the prepositions that are draped onto verbs that don't need any help. We no longer head committees. We head them up. We don't face problems anymore. We face up to them when we can free up a few minutes. A small detail, you may say—not worth bothering about. It is worth bothering about. Writing improves in direct ratio to the number of things we can keep out of it that shouldn't be there.
William Zinsser, On Writing Well
Rewriting can be tiresome. The myth of the free lunch to the contrary, good or even adequate writing is easy for few writers, and some of the best writers work at it the hardest, to make less work for the reader. Hemingway said, "Easy writing makes hard reading." ... Writing really well takes as much devotion as playing an instrument really well.
Deirdre McCloskey, Economical Writing
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