“This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.” Truer words were never spoken when it comes to a writer editing their own pride and joy.
“Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.” ― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft
Writers are artists, creative souls who build entire worlds out of nothing but pen and paper (or however many words they can type per minute on their device of choice). But the good ones are also cold, ruthless killers, because as much as we create, we are also required to commit the occasional literary murder for the sake of our work.
What you’ve written might be great―that minor character is dynamite on the page for this one flashback, that pithy line lightens the mood beautifully, that character death moves you to tears even though you know it’s coming―but sometimes, it just doesn’t serve a purpose in the bigger picture. Whether for the sake of word count or story progression, that is when it’s time to kill it, and kill it dead.
The truth is that your reasons for slashing and dicing your manuscript in the self-editing phase can vary; sometimes, you’ll even do it to satisfy some perverse idiosyncrasy you’ve developed since writing a certain part that will require you to choose between your previous words and your new mindset as a writer. More often than not, though, the most effective cuts are made when a writer can put aside their ego and approach the manuscript from a professional standpoint. The trade publishing world has a lot of rules―some of which get bent or broken all the time, but still―and if you want to make it as a professional author, there will be instances in which you have to play the game.
But, because your story is your baby, this is easier said than done. Here are a a few questions you can ask yourself when you’re having trouble deciding whether or not to pull the trigger as you self-edit, which will hopefully make the process a little less painful when the proverbial gun is in a professional editor’s hands.
What the hell was I thinking?
We’ve all been there. It was late, you were tired, over-caffeinated, and you went off on a mini tangent in your WIP. At the time, I’m’ sure it seemed both relevant and super important. But even if this excerpt wound up being the most lyrically charged bout of world-building or the greatest dialogue exchange you’ve ever written, it has to have a reason for appearing in your story. If you can’t answer this first, most vital question, then these nuggets of inspiration unfortunately have no business sticking around. Bang.
Now, before we go any further, let me explain that there are indeed exceptions to every rule, and even if you do decide to give something in your story the ax, it doesn’t mean you can’t keep it on ice. While working on my own passion projects, there are three possible outcomes to a rigorous round of self-edits: cut, stet or orphan. “Cut” speaks for itself, and if you’ve been in the writing game or any other type of creative process for a while, you know that “stet” means “keep this as is.” So what do I mean by “orphan”? When I come across something that I’m particularly proud of, but know that it’s not working where it is or in what context it currently appears, I take my own advice and cut it from the manuscript, then drop it into a different document that I’ve literally labeled “Orphans” or “In Flux”. My dark sense of humor aside, this is where a lot of good stuff lives until I can find it a new home. See? I’m not too proud to admit that a bitch went on. But, thanks to this loophole, I’ve saved my future self a lot of brainstorming because I can resurrect already fleshed-out excerpts in a way that will do them justice. So, not a bang in this case so much as a pause.
Am I just stroking my own ego?
If your story has multiple subplots or is an epic tale that covers a lot of ground/many years, then you could probably justify including just about anything you’ve written. That is a slippery slope, though, one that easily racks up your word count with details that may be intriguing or fun to you and some uniquely nuanced readers, but ultimately don’t move the story forward and wouldn’t be considered necessary elements. These accumulate and can eventually obscure the true plot to the point that your readers lose the thread or interest entirely. Keep in mind that just because you think a turtle’s journey across the road is profound and allegorical does not mean everyone will get or appreciate it, too. You’ve got to pick your battles and learn which hills you’re actually willing to die on…unless, of course, you kill a darling or two as a sacrifice to appease the gods of trade publishing.
So, as you review your work, try to digest the story like a casual reader. Did you find this side character amusing, or were you distracted because you thought he or she was going to pop back up in a significant way, but they never did? Could the writer have tightened up that exposition and gotten you to a major point of action that much sooner? The devil is in the details, and in this case, that devil might be you. Bang.
Am I lost?
If you’ve decided to hell with it, you’re keeping a questionable section or character in your story, you may find that it leads you in unexpected directions. This isn’t always a bad thing; in fact, I’ve seen and written some iffy material that ended up adding masterful twists to the story (if I may say so myself). The key is to maintain your grip on the steering wheel before your writing runs you off the road and into a ditch. Once you’re down there, it’s a lot harder to drag yourself back out, and then you become easy prey to monsters like writer’s block.
Think of it like a chess game. If you’ve ever played with real intent, and with an opponent who knows what they’re doing, then you know that it does you no good to charge ahead blindly. It’s all about moves based on countermoves you can try to predict and anticipate. If your main character has a rougher past than you originally planned they would, that will probably dictate how they react to certain catalysts or triggers. If a minor character suddenly gets more time in the spotlight because that’s how you need a complication to play out, will that affect the setting? When these sorts of questions can’t be answered, or if you decide they aren’t worth the trouble after all, then you’ll know what you have to take out in order to get everything back on track. Bang.
Writing isn’t for the faint of heart…or the squeamish. The ability to make the tough calls as to whether or not one should pull the trigger or bury the bodies―in the written sense, because what you do in your spare time is absolutely none of my business―is what sets apart the serious, dedicated storyteller, and gives their creations the vitality and lasting impressions they deserve.
K. Watkins 