Killing Your Darlings

The other day I spent a few hours cleaning out the piles of papers in my desk. There were failed algebra tests, college fair flyers, scrap papers filled with geometric doodles. Among the crumpled papers I found four folders of writing assignments, each one from a different year in high school. Upon this discovery, I’m pretty sure I made the “I-forgot-to-turn-in-my-homework-assignment-that’s-worth-a-quarter-of-my-grade” face. (That’s a mix between disbelief, embarrassment, and disgust.) As much as I didn’t want to see any of my old essays, I decided to open my ninth grade folder out of curiosity.

Many writers hate re-reading their past pieces because it’s easy to nitpick the grammar errors and stylistic mistakes. As I sat scanning an analytical paper on To Kill a Mockingbird, I forgot that I was only 15 years old when I wrote it. At the time, I thought my awkward sentence structure and bland vocabulary would win me a Pulitzer Prize someday. I treasured my words. I remember ignoring any suggestions from my peers and hesitating to make the changes from my teachers.

I’ve heard this likened to “killing your darlings,” and I certainly didn’t want to kill mine.

I once read somewhere that writers either start out with big egos or no egos.

They think their first draft is either worth publishing or not worth finishing. They don’t take constructive criticism from others or they take it too personally. If I’m being honest, I was a writer with a big ego. I knew my passion stood out among the other students who didn’t know basic grammar. Through middle school and most of high school, I expected to get good grades in English classes. I didn’t know what the cycle of writing and rewriting felt like.

In order to improve, I think a writer must have an ego. It should be a balance of confidence and humility. After taking a workshop-based creative writing class at Stanford, I learned that receiving and taking constructive criticism are two different things. You don’t always have to change what others think you should change, although you should always consider their point of view.

Judging any form of art is subjective, but writing is not a one-sided relationship. My instructors, editors, and peers are all part of my audience. The audience is not an invisible body of people who will praise your writing in its weakest form. They will force you to defend and consider every creative choice you make.

There will be times when I won’t want to kill my darlings...but I will do it. That’s how I’ll grow.