KILL YOUR DARLINGS?......
I'D JUST AS SOON TAKE THEM OUT FOR A DRINK TO THANK THEM FOR STOPPING BY
KILL YOUR DARLINGS?......
I'D JUST AS SOON TAKE THEM OUT FOR A DRINK TO THANK THEM FOR STOPPING BY
There's a wellknown expression in writing that says, “Kill your darlings.” As far as I know, that means cut out those bits of writing that you think are actually pretty darn good. The just-right expressions, the times when you think (trying not to puff yourself up too much) “Yes, that's it. That's exactly the way I think about this or that. That description is spot-on!”
No, you're not supposed to think that way at all. You're supposed to find these “darlings” and take an axe to them. Become your very own executioner of interesting phrases.
Why?
I've never been a fan of that sentiment. If it wasn't my darling, why is it in there in the first place? Did I make a mistake in describing something as perfectly as I can? If so, what am I supposed to put in its place? Seeing as I've just written just the right thing.
If every writer did this, would we have fabulous lines such as these? In her book, City of Girls, Elizabeth Gilbert has given us this characterization: “Solid as furniture, that Olive.” (p.167) What image does that bring up in your mind? Is there a better way of saying it? Possibly. But why, why kill such a brilliant phrase? I'll bet you can see Olive in your mind's eye.
Then there was this one: “Men looked at Celia Ray like she was a box of Cracker Jack and they couldn't wait to start digging for the toy.” (p.97) I think that tells you everything you'd ever want to know about her effect on men. And a bit more.
I also love the wonderful David Sedaris, the writer who can make even a shopping list sound hilarious. Take, for example, part of this paragraph, that talks about shopping in Tokyo: “The neighborhood... Ebisu.....is home to one of our favorite shops, Kapital. The clothes they sell are new but appear to have been previously worn, perhaps by someone who was shot or stabbed and then thrown off a boat. Everything looks like it has been pulled from the evidence rack at a murder trial.” (p.66, The Perfect Fit, from the book Calypso.)
And not just a writer of gags, he can also write wonderfully poignant lines like this: “Our mother was the one who held us all together. After her death we were like a fistful of damp soil, loose bits breaking off with no one to press them back in.”(p.134 from the story, The Silent Treatment from the same book.) Doesn't that just say it all?
Wonderful as these examples are, every writer comes up with brilliant comparisons, comes up with verbs that convey the exactness of an action, and makes us delighted that we've taken time to spend reading their words.
So, where is the harm in having darlings? I'm trying to see why they deserve to be killed, or even maimed. What would be the point of hobbling a perfectly good darling with a standard, watered-down, porridge-like description?
Otherwise, is it not all technical manuals? Words like an elephant walking through mud?
Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe killing your darlings means something else entirely. Happy to be corrected, if that is the case. In the meantime, I'm murdering nothing.
What do you think? Do you kill your darlings?
P.S. Since writing the draft of this post, I have broken my arm, so I have to type one- handed. I will still try to post weekly, but they may be a bit shorter.
Comments, as always, welcome as the flowers in spring.
I think it was Stephen King who coined the phrase, in his wonderful book, On Writing. From memory, I think he meant that it if the phrase/sentence wasn't serving the story, it was best to cut it, no matter how fabulous it was. I've had to do it a few times; it's always torture.
Well done fir being fearless and saying whats good for you. Sometimes it can be a perfect bit of writing in the wrong place perhaps?
Or I sometimes find I drop my first few lines/pages and then the better ones appear less consciously, and write themselves. I have to get out of the way somehow. Same when I paint. The initial sketch gets my eye in, then the flow takes over.
Hollow bones it's said can let the spirit through.
A crack , it's how the light gets in.