I used to run. Due to a leg I broke in seven places,
this activity is no longer enjoyable. It’s hard and it hurts. My foot falls
flat onto the ground and pain shoots up into my brain and I want to cry. I was
reminded of the pain last summer, when I tried once again to run. Every few years,
I tend to forget how much pain running causes me. I buy really good tennis
shoes, shorts, headbands, and load my phone up with Eye of the Tiger.
Running was a passion back in high school, and I was
an avid cross country enthusiast and track and field guy, though I was never
very good at either sport. I crossed the finish line last every time. I finally
lettered my senior year, but felt the school gave me the letter because they
had to.
I never quit. I just kept going. I am pretty proud
of that letter, and still have it. The letter proves I finished.
- I try to forever hold this visible shape, my name.
- Old blood seeping into the garden.
- She returned to become a sickness.
- I imagined him with death.
- She looked at everything in her mind and took a breath.
- I crawled into the morning.
I’m being indulgent sharing with you because these
are all lines that have been deleted from my published work, and the list is
longer, stored in a Scrivener project titled The Great Big Idea File.[2]
They are my darlings, but I have not murdered them.[3] I
have saved them for future work. They may find a story home yet, although some
of the lines are as old as 1991.
When you’ve written something well, but the line
doesn’t perfectly fit into the piece of writing you’re working on, don’t delete
the words. Don’t murder your darlings. Save them. Place them in a box for later.
Let them live and breathe. Go back to them for inspiration.
Listen to your muse; not outdated Edwardianism writing
advice from World War I era modernism where real people were murdered across
continents. English author Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch invented the 1914 advice: “Murder
your darlings.”[4]
Quiller-Couch’s choice in wording fascinates me. I think of Wendy Darling and
her brothers whimsically following Peter Pan through the night sky, second star
to the right and straight on ‘til morning. I think maybe there was some jealousy
there. Quiller-Couch rewrote four fairy tales: The Sleeping Beauty, Blue Beard,
Cinderella, and Beauty and the Beast. They weren’t that popular, yet J.M.
Barrie’s Peter Pan was immensely popular,
and absolutely soared into the night sky, and, for a hundred fifty years more,
continues to be a success, an eternally indulgent, youthful tale. From this
perspective, “Murder your darlings” takes on dark connotations.
Authors are insanely jealous people. We always
compare ourselves to more successful writers; always wondering why people aren't reading our art. So we give each other bad advice, or continually perpetuate bad
advice not realizing it was bad advice to begin with. We turn our art into some
kind of bad competition, admiring and secretly hating at the same those ahead
of us.
The truth is though, no one is ahead of us. We’re
all running, but the finish line does not exist.
[1] Neighborhood
Mums, Breath:
An American Story, Wasteland,
and of course most recently Banana
Sandwich.
[2] For
a great article on Scrivener, check out Bryan Collins “Using
Scrivener For Blogging: The Ulitmate How To Guide.” I've tried writing
posts on Scrivener, but the software is so amazing I fall short of describing
its awesomeness. Bryan’s piece gives a down and dirty quick overview.
[3] Forrest
Wickman wrote a great piece for Slate in 2013 that discusses where the “Kill
your Darlings” writing advice really came from. Please people, stop attributing
Stephen King.
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