The origin of the phrase has been traced back to British writer Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch. He offered, in his 1916 book On the Art of Writing, a practical ‘rule’ for writers: ‘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.’
The idea, and the phrase, has been endorsed by countless writers since then, including Stephen King who, in On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft wrote, ‘Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.’
I get it. And I agree with it. Through the many drafts of the development phase of a manuscript, it’s important for writers to be open to letting go of aspects from earlier drafts that they may have become attached to, but are no longer needed. It could be that opening paragraph that everyone in your writers group loves. It could be that scene that came to you in a flash of inspiration and felt so good when you wrote it. It could be that character who was so important in the early drafts and has become a bit of an anchor for you in terms of your writing process.
Reframing the negative to a positive
So why the rethinking? Because killing your darlings frames the process as a negative, as taking away something from the work. I encourage writers to see the process of trimming and tightening, cutting and revising as a positive, as increasing the strength of the work. Rather than emphasising what is lost, focus on what is gained.
Does that mean your murdered darlings were bad, wrong, a waste of time? Not at all. You couldn’t have arrived at the next draft, or indeed the final draft, without them. They may not end up on the published page, but they form part of the foundations on which your story is built.
The importance of separation
The drama embedded in the concept of killing your darlings speaks to the emotional attachment writers have to their work. Your ability, however, to take your work to publication standard largely depends on seeing your writing as separate from yourself. Only with this separation will you be able to embrace the potential that revision can offer, particularly when you have received professional feedback that suggests cutting away material you love.
Yes, you pour yourself into your manuscript – you live it, breath it, are immersed in the process. But remember that the writing produced is a collection of words, a representation of your thoughts, ideas, research, imagination. Yes, you are likely to be attached to your work, and indeed you need some sort of attachment to find the commitment to have come this far with your writing project – but the manuscript is not you. The words can be cut, rearranged, changed or omitted, without drawing blood, despite the images ‘killing’ may conjure.
Serving the story above all else
I don’t have a catchy slogan to replace ‘kill your darlings’, but I do encourage you to think in terms of allowing the strengths of your story to shine through, of making your story sing, or fly, or whatever metaphor feels right in terms of the story reaching its potential.
And yep, I went for the easy dramatics with my image for this blog to capture your attention. Now that you’ve reached the end, you can see the device for what it is, an invitation to think beyond the gimmick, to dive deeper into what it is to write, and what it is to be a writer.