How Do You Know When The Words Need to Go?

Read over your compositions, and where ever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out – Samuel Johnson

How do you know when some of your words need to go?  When there are bits of prose which – however sparkling – deserve to end up on the cutting room floor?

This question has come up twice in the last few weeks.

Brad Shorr asked in the introduction to the simplicity theme:

How do you excise jargon and redundancy? How do you know when you’re digressing? How do you know when you’re providing too much detail – or not enough?

I mentioned a while back that I’d realised some sections of my writing tips book didn’t belong there.  Once they were cut I could safely press on.  Robyn McMaster came back and asked why I said the words didn’t fit:

Why can’t you use the words in both mediums with creative adjustment to match the different environments?

My initial answer to the question “how do you know?” was: I just know.

To “why can’t you use the words…?”: because they just don’t fit.

However, I realise those answers aren’t much use to man nor beast, so I’ve been mulling over the ideas and suggestions I’d offer to help you answer the question: how do you know when the words need to go?

I’ve got two answers so far.  One’s short.  The other needs a bit more explanation.

The first: read as much as you possibly can.  That’s the easiest way to get practiced at recognising good (and not so good) writing.

The second: get to know your inner editor.

Who or What’s the Inner Editor?

The inner editor is not to be called on when you’re writing.  You need to get far enough away from your words to be able to look at them dispassionately.  Your words might be sparklingly brilliant or particularly fine – and still need to go.

Besides, trying to edit and write at the same time will interupt the flow of your writing.

The inner editor is not the same as your inner critic.  The critic will try and talk you out of doing things you want to do, that stretch you, but might be taking you out of your comfort zone.  Your inner critic might protect you from rejection, but generally doesn’t have your best interests at heart.  S/he also has no idea about what makes for good or bad writing.

The inner editor, however, has a keen eye for what’s good, and what’s not.  S/he knows just what to cut.

(Mine is a she.  Fierce.  Wise.  Dispassionate.  A writing warrior.  What’s yours?)

The inner editor has your best interests at heart.  S/he wants your best work to shine.  She also knows that some things need to be cut, edited, moved around, or tightened up if you’re going to achieve maximum impact.

She’s your Samurai.

Natalie Goldberg talks about the time for the Samurai like this:

When you’re in the Samurai space you have to be tough.  Not mean, but with the toughness of truth… The courage to be honest.

How Does the Inner Editor Work?

To be honest, I don’t really know.  Mine just gets on with it without me doing too much about it (other than getting out of my own way.)  But in the interests of trying to be helpful (and to answer those questions) here are some of the things that I think are going on.

The inner editor cuts based on:

Visuals: looking at the overall pattern, cutting out clutter, checking it’s easy to read

Logic: does your argument make sense?  Does your point follow on from A, to B, to C?

Flow: the words need to flow as well as your argument.  Can you read it without tripping over anything? (Tip: read it out loud – it’s the best way to check.)

Instinct: sometimes you get a strong reaction to a piece of writing. That’s the bit you need to make sure and keep, to highlight, and to cut around.  Reactions might include hairs going up on the back of your neck, goose bumps, skin tingling, fingers tapping.  (They’re signals from your unconscious mind.)

Pace: how long does it take your readers to get to the point?  If it’s too fast you won’t make a connection.  Too slow and your readers will be frustrated, or gone.

Rhythm: this happens too fast for me to be consciously aware of but I think I edit based on the rhythm of the words.  The inner music even. (If anyone knows more about how this works, please do let me know.)

Just knowing: frustrating as it might be I’ll come back to my original answer.  Sometimes you just know – that something needs to be cut, moved, edited out, or saved for a rainy day.  When you get that feeling: trust it.  Your inner editor knows.

What would your answer to this question be: how do you know when the words need to go?

What kind of tools do you use to help you do the cutting?

Photo Credit: The eternal spirit by erika y on flickr