Kill Your Darlings? Save Them Instead
In her new column, Emma's Angle, book inc intern Emma Moriarty challenges the brutal "kill your darlings" advice.
Last September, I sat in a local coffee shop with book inc program director Elizabeth Jannuzzi, nursing coffee that burnt my tongue each time I went for a sip. We were discussing book inc’s year-long Memoir Incubator, and although the idea of enrolling was thrilling, I was hesitant to commit. During our conversation, she shared her experience writing her memoir, Sober Mom (coming out July 2026!). Her participation in the Memoir Incubator led her to realize that she was writing about several different topics in addition to her recovery from alcoholism. This inspired her to start working on a completely separate memoir about grief, rather than cramming different themes into one book.
As I burnt my tongue on my coffee yet again, I thought about how I related to Liz’s struggle; I, too, found myself wondering when to explore how different themes interconnect and when to just give it up and hone in on one sole theme. I have found that, while revising my writing, a paragraph often stands out: it is loosely related to the topic of my personal essay but feels off, just enough to set off alarm bells in my head. Usually, this “sore thumb” of a point is, of course, one that I really want to include and have difficulty parting with. I feel almost attached to it. Chances are, I knew it was only semi-related when I wrote it, but I wanted to see if I could make it work.
I shared this thought with my English professor during my freshman year of college, after having this feeling at multiple points while writing a literature review. The paper was about a controversial opinion we had, and I decided to write about how breast cancer awareness is much more common than awareness for other, more deadly cancers, such as pancreatic cancer. I had a particularly punchy paragraph that started with the sentence, Shouldn’t people be educated on what is more likely to kill them rather than less likely? and I was proud of it. However, it wasn’t fitting well with the tone of the rest of the paper, let alone the tone my professor preferred. “I can’t delete it,” I complained. “I just like this part so much.”
“If it really means that much to you, keep it in. But what I do is keep a document on my computer titled “Lost Darlings’, and it is over 100 pages long!” She laughed and sent me on my way with a half-finished essay and a pathetic attachment to my own words.
If you haven’t heard the phrase “kill your darlings,” it refers to cutting out pieces of writing—usually the exact sentences you worked hardest on or love the most—that don’t serve the overall narrative, argument, or focus of a piece. In my opinion, the “killing” part advises writers to do this ruthlessly, even when the sections of writing that may not fit are actually their favorite. The phrase was coined by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch in his book On the Art of Writing, and apparently, writers struggled with it even in 1916. My professor undoubtedly lived by Mr. Couch’s phrase, but lessened the blow by having them go missing instead of murdered, which I appreciated.
I took her advice and created a document of snippets from my essay that I definitely needed to cut, but felt emotionally connected to and wanted to include somewhere in the future (including the sentence I mentioned above, pulled directly from my Lost Darlings document). It felt less cruel to copy and paste a section into my document than to delete it forever, risking the chance that the thought would never surface again or reach the page.
There was still one question I found myself asking: how can I be sure that a sentence or section needs to be lost? Of course, there is no simple answer. After multiple readthroughs of a piece, many writers are familiar with the gut feeling that a certain section isn’t flowing with the rest of the piece, or that sore thumb look that I mentioned above. Often, writers will even try to generate context in order to cushion the darling, which is exactly what the darling wants. However, this can lead to what I have coined “darling takeover” and losing the true meaning of the piece altogether! As cunning as they are, that is a danger that these darlings can pose, so it may be better to lose them altogether once you notice them.
After a long period of collecting my lost darlings into a document, I realized that many of them were actually related and could be woven into a new piece altogether. My advice is to keep your lost darlings, because you never know when they fit into a new piece. Plus, you aren’t really parting with them—just moving them somewhere that they will be more comfortable!
All in all, don’t kill your darlings—they aren’t evil, at least not if we are still talking about the darlings in your writing. They are simply lost and need to find a place where they belong! (And a few weeks after coffee with Liz and after my tongue healed, I decided that I DO belong in Memoir Incubator, and maybe you do too! Learn more here.)
About the Author
Emma Moriarty graduated from Lehigh University in May 2025 with a BS in Psychology and a minor in Creative Writing. She is from Shrewsbury, NJ, and loves spending time in nature and with friends and family. She has been awarded the 2024 & 2025 Williams Prize in Creative Writing (Non-Fiction), the 2024 Williams Prize in Creative Writing (Poetry), and the 2024 & 2025 Kachel Prize. She works part-time at Blood Cancer United and is also a book inc intern. Although she loves poetry, she is currently focusing on her passion for creative nonfiction.
About book inc
book inc is a writing collective dedicated to helping writers draft, revise, and publish memoirs and novels. Our book incubators and revision workshops help writers realize their artistic and commercial potential.