Raising Darlings

One need not walk very far into the realm of writing advice to stumble upon Faulkner telling us to "Kill all of our little darling." It's such an overused (and abused) piece of macabre advice that I never mention it to anyone asking me for writing tips. And while it holds some merit in most situations, I've recently been forming a different opinion. A rather intriguing, what if... Every creative is in danger of adding characters, contents or details that only exist for purposes of pleasant self fulfillment. It's good sense to do away with the vast majority of these, to label them brusquely, fetishes. But on the other hand, if a writer is so focused on slicing and dicing their draft to bits and removing every piece of personal taste from their work, well...where is the joy in that? Pure logic is where passion goes to die. Murder is not always the answer. Might might often make right, but when right is what you're left with, you've actually got nothing left. (See, this is the kind of stuff I'm talking about.) If I, the writer, have something selfish that I SO desire to be in my story, should I resist the temptation to add it every single time? I am a person of considerable discipline when I need to be, but even monks have their weaknesses. (And I am no monk.) What if, instead of slaying my darlings, I tempered them? What if I didn't throw the fledgling out before I even tried to teach it to fly? What would I be left with? Dare I say, a mature, well thought out addition to my story that isn't shoe-horned or awkward. Is such a thing possible? To have a few darlings that actually enrich the story? I think it is. The real question, then, becomes this: How bad do I want it? This question alone is all the paring down I need. If there is something I want to add strictly for my own jollies, all I have to do is ask myself if I'm willing to parent it. To raise it properly. If the answer is no, I don't have to kill it: it never saw life on the page. If the answer is yes, I must take responsibility for it and see it taken care of. It won't alter the story, it will adapt to it, just as any well adjusted element to the narrative would. I feel very strongly about this. I will continue to trust my process. I am not eschewing the original advice holistically, mind you, but I am going to write this novel my way, and say "Faulk you" to the majority of writing advice blogs. (This is what my sound and fury looks like, by the way.) One need not kill what hasn't been given life. But life, once thoughtfully conceived, should be nurtured instead of villainized.