Cutting the Darlings: An Editor’s Guide to Overwritten Prose
Writers are told again and again to “kill your darlings.” The phrase was probably said at the first writing workshop, or maybe not…
For many, it conjures up the horror of stripping away every sentence you love, turning a lush draft into a bare skeleton. But fear not, it’s more nuanced.
Cutting the darlings isn’t about losing voice or erasing individuality. It’s about recognizing the moments where your prose clings to excess—where you’ve written past the point of clarity, or explained what’s already clear, or held on to a beautiful phrase that distracts from the story.
Self-editing at the sentence level is less about brutality than honesty. The question isn’t, “Do I love this line?” It’s, “Does this line serve the story?”
Why Overwriting Happens
Overwriting develops from an earnest attempt to be vivid, precise, and original. In early drafts, we chase detail, we pile on modifiers, we over-explain because we don’t yet trust the reader to see what we see.
It’s natural. Drafting is expansive by design. But without pruning, prose that tries to dazzle can quickly cloud. Readers stumble over redundancies or lose patience with scenes that explain what was already implied. The story stalls under the weight of words.
Literary Lessons in Cutting
James Baldwin – Precision
From Giovanni’s Room (1956):
“People who believe that they are strong-willed and the masters of their destiny can only continue to believe this by becoming specialists in self-deception.”
This line could have been swollen with clauses, but Baldwin pares it into one long sentence with balance and bite. His drafts often show that he wrote expansively, then tightened to the point of scalpel-like precision.
Teaching point: Baldwin’s power comes from clarity. He could have stacked adjectives or metaphors, but the single phrase “specialists in self-deception” does the work of an entire paragraph.
Zora Neale Hurston – Richness Without Redundancy
From Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937):
“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”
Hurston often used lyrical rhythm, but even at her most poetic she avoided clutter. She could have written: “Some years leave us wondering and searching for answers, while other years provide those answers.” Instead, she cuts to the elemental: a line so tight it reads like a proverb.
Teaching point: Richness doesn’t come from piling on; it comes from distillation.
Arundhati Roy – Density With Discipline
From The God of Small Things (1997):
“She wore a white shirt and a long yellow skirt, too tight at the waist. But Comrade Pillai said she had a cheap waist. Cheap but independent.”
Roy’s style is famously lush, but she knows when to let small, clipped fragments cut through. The juxtaposition of long imagery with abrupt fragments creates rhythm. She doesn’t layer ten metaphors; she stops at the sharpest one.
Teaching point: Density doesn’t mean excess. It means layering details intentionally, then cutting when the point is made.
Toni Morrison
From Beloved (1987):
“124 was spiteful. Full of a baby’s venom.”
Economy itself creates atmosphere. Morrison could have explained the history of the house in a page. Instead, she begins with four words that carry the entire novel’s weight.
⚡We could reframe your “before/after” moments in the article by first showing how these writers could have overwritten (explaining the tendency), then showing the actual published lines as proof of economy. That way, readers still see the lesson in contrast — but through authentic examples.
Common Signs of Overwriting
Adverb Pile-Ups
“She ran quickly, hurriedly, frantically.”Explaining the Obvious
“‘I hate you,’ she shouted angrily.”Descriptive Echoes
“The tall skyscraper loomed high above the city.” “Skyscraper” and “high” repeat.Metaphor Overload
“His words landed like blows, like stones, like daggers, like the crash of thunder.”
A Before and After Example
Before (overwritten):
The room was completely silent, utterly still, with no sound or motion whatsoever, except for the faint creak of the floorboards under her tentative, careful, nervous steps as she slowly, hesitantly made her way toward the door.
After (tightened):
The room was silent, the floorboards creaking under her nervous steps as she moved toward the door.
The second version is shorter, but not thinner. The scene is sharper because the clutter is gone.
How to Cut Without Losing Voice
The danger of self-editing is going too far, sanding down everything until your prose becomes robotic. Cutting darlings preserves individuality by stripping away the noise that hides it.
Ask yourself:
Does this sentence say something new, or does it repeat?
Does this modifier sharpen the image, or blur it?
Is this phrase more about me showing off, or about the character’s truth?
Your voice isn’t in the extra words. It’s in the precision of the right ones.
Practical Approaches for Writers
Highlight Habit Words. Use a search function for crutches like very, suddenly, just, actually. Cut most.
Read Aloud. If you run out of breath, the sentence is likely overwritten.
Print and Slash. Take a highlighter and mark your favourite lines. Then highlight the surrounding ones. Ask: Do they serve the scene, or do they pull attention from it?
Contrast Styles. Copy a passage and rewrite it in two extremes: one spare, one lush. Which serves the story better?
Closing Thought
“Killing your darlings” doesn’t mean silencing your style. It means ensuring your style serves the story rather than smothering it. Baldwin, Hurston, Roy—they prove that cutting isn’t about subtraction but focus.
As you are self editing, you’re not replacing the work a professional editor. You’re preparing your draft to shine more clearly, so when an editor steps in, they can fine tune instead of excavate.
