Just cut stuff

You don't have to rewrite what's not there

A page from Steal Like an Artist

Hey y’all,

I’m working on the copyedited manuscript of my next book. I hold quite a bit of creative tension at this point in the writing process.

One the one hand, I’m grateful for the attention to detail of this stranger who has gone through my sentences with a microscope. On the other hand, I often want to strangle this nitpicker for having the audacity to question my choices!

Wally Wood once joked of Ernie Bushmiller’s Nancy comics that they were harder not to read than to read, and that’s exactly what I want for my own work: I want the book to be easier to read than to not read, easier to just finish than to put down.

I try to remain open to any suggestions that will keep the reader reading and clear their path of any potential snags.

Whenever I find myself snagged on a suggested edit, the first thing I ask myself is: Does this even need to be here?

I find the easiest thing to do with something that isn’t working in a piece of writing is to just cut it out completely.

I mentioned this in my previous letter, “3 Tricks for Self-Editing,” but the emphasis there was on not writing stuff that bores me. At this editorial stage, it’s about cutting what isn’t working, or what’s sticking out, or what’s not serving the total thrust of the thing.

So, I’ll cut a whole sentence, or even a whole paragraph. It’s amazing how often the subtraction improves things. At the very least, you rarely miss the cutting, and you’ve saved yourself a lot of work. (Sometimes the simplest cut has a maximum impact.)

The things I tend to cut are leftovers from previous drafts that stick out like a tail on an animal that doesn’t need it. Or things I thought were too clever to cut earlier in the process.

I am ruthless at this point of the process and I enjoy practicing the old writing advice to “kill your darlings.” But if you find it difficult to kill your darlings, there is another great option: “relocate your darlings.”