LAST WEEK IN CLASS, the question was raised about how to edit yourself, and suddenly everyone looked at their shoes. It’s a reaction I’ve come to expect as well as adore. And it makes sense. I mean, who wants to murder one’s darlings?
In his prickly 1916 tome, On the Art of Writing, Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch (1863-1944) opines that you must “murder your darlings,” and if there is a phrase more beloved by writers, I cannot think of it. People seem to adore it, almost as much as they rest assured that it applies to everyone’s work but their own. Few writers are actually willing to follow this advice; perhaps none are memoirists.
When Quiller-Couch (seen at left) penned it, he was making the distinction between style and plain bad writing: “Style, for example, is not—can never be—extraneous Ornament.” Later, he gave us his famous instruction: “Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.”
Elmore Leonard later qualified this for a modern audience: “If I come across anything in my work that smacks of ‘good writing,’ I immediately strike it out.”
When this topic is raised in my class, I default to a short talk on sin, and how from the first word you lay down, writing memoir will pretty much divide your time between committing sins of omission and sins of commission, during which you will soon realize that much as in life, what’s left out may haunt you nearly as much as what gets included. In short, you must learn how to edit yourself.
“But it’s a lovely sentence,” someone will whine, defending their darling when I edit it out. And that’s the problem. It may be, but understanding that writing is not about those single flourishes, and instead about the piece as a whole, is the first step toward learning how to commit the perfect murder—a good final edit.
Pamela Olson says
So true! My whine to my agent was always, “But that paragraph is really funny! People were laughing out loud!” After a while I had to realize that simply had nothing to do with it. The only relevant question for a serious piece of writing (even if it’s funny) is, “Does it make the entire work stronger and make its story and message better and more clear?”
The nice thing is, I have a blog and a few low-priced eBooks to get all that “flowery, funny, biting, or clever for the sake of it” writing out of my system.
My adjective for a certain kind of bad writing is “writery.” If you read a book thinking, “This person really wanted to be thought of as a good writer,” instead of just focusing on the story itself, the author is too writery.
Richard says
Ok, now…who makes the final decision that determines if a specific line is really great…and then dumps it? Is this objective and couldn’t it possibly have been written at a point where the writer could still (hopefully!) be subjective AND objective about his or her own work? I completely understand it’s about the work in its entirety but what’s wrong with a great line, or two? I’m definitely missing something.
marion says
Hi, Richard. And welcome. The hope is that every sentence is well-crafted, and that there are not merely a few fancy-schmancy sentences that scream at the reader, “Hey, look at me!”
I’m glad to meet you here, and always glad to meet someone who asks hard questions like this.
Please read around the site for a while and see what else provokes you.
I particularly recommend the Writing Lessons series on The Memoir Project, where well-published authors guest post on how to write memoir.
Enjoy.
Cynthia Briggs says
Hello Marion,
I love to “murder my darlings” which always makes me feel like I’ve just lost 10 lbs. or had a very short haircut after a long winter. Basically, murdering my darlings makes me feel lighter, freer and cleaner.
Years ago I had a writing instructor who told a story about creating a short video for a class he was taking. His three children had the leading part(s) in the clip. When he turned the video in for grading, his instructor said he needed to edit out two of the children as one child told the story clearer and more concisely. I don’t know what he ended up doing; he was stressing the point on how difficult it can be to murder his darling(s).
I’d also like to comment on your “overuse of commas.” You need to read THE PARIS WIFE by Paula McLain. I love the book! McLain uses tons of commas, and she does it beautifully. Personally I’m not in love with comma use, but when it’s done right it can really emphasize expressions and voice influx.
Thanks so much. Enjoy reading your Class Notes.
Heather Marsten says
I have a confession to make. I don’t murder my darlings. I have a folder in my documents section called deleted stuff – I copy and paste my darlings there – safe and sound, just not in my memoir :). Who knows, they might become useful later.
Margaret Dubay Mikus says
I find that distance helps. Waiting some time before editing (again) so the overall arc of the story (usually in poetic form in my case) is clearer, like it was written by someone else. And I like Heather’s comment about saving the deleted stuff somewhere else. You never know…
Jeff Emmerson says
Wow! Very interesting to learn, and how timely! Thank you, Marion!!