Every writer has one: a favorite scene, paragraph, or line that feels too beautiful to cut. The rhythm is perfect, the dialogue sings, the imagery shines — it’s your darling. Yet sometimes, that beloved passage is also the one quietly strangling your story.

The Terrible Writing Advice episode on scene writing turns this truth into biting satire. The narrator proudly defends his “Darling Scene” — even though it adds nothing to the plot, stalls pacing, and exists purely because it’s well written. It’s a hilarious exaggeration of something nearly every writer struggles with: knowing when to let go.

So what does “Murder Your Darlings” really mean, and how can you do it without losing your creative soul?

1. What Does ‘Murder Your Darlings’ Actually Mean?

The phrase, often attributed to William Faulkner (though it originated earlier with Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch), doesn’t mean you should write emotionless prose or destroy your best work. It means that no piece of writing is sacred if it doesn’t serve the story.

In essence: if a scene, character, or paragraph exists only to please you — not to move the narrative forward — it might need to go.

Writers fall in love with their own words easily. A clever line, an atmospheric description, a side plot that “feels right” — these become emotional attachments. But storytelling is not a museum of pretty sentences; it’s a living experience built around purpose and momentum.

2. The Darling Scene: Beauty Without Purpose

In the Terrible Writing Advice parody, the narrator lists all the reasons his “darling” scene must stay, even though it fails at everything a good scene should do. It:

1. Develops no characters.
2. Advances no plot.
3. Reveals no worldbuilding or exposition.
4. Changes nothing by the end.

Sound familiar?

This is the Darling Scene Problem — when a writer keeps something because it’s “too good to lose,” even though it breaks pacing, tone, or focus. It may be your best writing on a technical level, but if it stalls your story’s heartbeat, it doesn’t belong.

Creative writing tip: A scene can be well-written and still wrong for the story. Craft alone doesn’t justify inclusion.

3. Why We Struggle to Cut Our Darlings

Killing your darlings hurts because it feels like deleting effort, emotion, and time. But the real reason we resist cutting them is ego. That line represents your voice, your wit, your brilliance. Cutting it feels like cutting a piece of yourself.

However, readers don’t see your drafts or your hard work — they only see what survives editing. What matters to them is not how much you loved writing a scene, but how well it fits within the story’s rhythm and purpose.

Think of storytelling like composing music: even a beautiful solo can ruin the song if it doesn’t match the melody.

4. When to Kill (and When to Keep)

Not every darling deserves death. Some just need recontextualizing or reshaping. Here’s how to tell which is which:

Question If Answer is “No” → Cut It Does the scene change something — emotionally or narratively?❌Does it reveal character, theme, or motivation?❌Would the story lose clarity or impact without it?❌Does it maintain tone and pacing consistency?❌

If your darling fails all of these, it’s time to let go. But sometimes, a darling can be repurposed. That vivid paragraph of description might fit better earlier. That witty exchange could work in a faster-paced scene. Recycle brilliance instead of burying it.

5. Darlings That Damage Pacing

A common symptom of uncut darlings is pacing fatigue. A long, beautifully written digression might be the moment where your reader quietly puts the book down.

The Terrible Writing Advice video mocks this perfectly — the writer who insists every page is gold, ignoring that the story drags. Readers don’t care how hard you worked; they care how engaged they feel.

Scene writing tip: If a scene doesn’t change something — conflict, tone, goal, or understanding — it’s a speed bump. Smooth it out.

6. Detachment: The Editor’s Mindset

The key to murdering your darlings without losing your passion is detachment. You must learn to switch from writer brain (the creator) to editor brain (the architect). Writer brain loves ideas; editor brain asks, Does this serve the structure?

When revising, treat every scene like a suspect. What purpose does it serve? What would happen if you removed it? If the story becomes cleaner, tighter, and more focused, your darling wasn’t a victim — it was a sacrifice.

A helpful trick: save deleted scenes in a separate document. This gives you emotional permission to cut without fear of permanent loss. Most of the time, you’ll never go back to them — and that’s how you’ll know you made the right call.

7. The Reward of Ruthless Editing

The paradox of “murdering your darlings” is that it makes your remaining work shine brighter. Once you cut clutter, your best moments breathe. Clarity replaces indulgence. Purpose replaces padding.

In the words of Stephen King: “To write is human, to edit is divine.”

Readers rarely miss what you remove — they only feel the improvement in flow, tone, and focus. Cutting is not destruction; it’s refinement.

Final Thought

Murdering your darlings is the writer’s version of pruning a tree: painful in the moment, but essential for growth. You’re not killing your creativity — you’re protecting it from suffocation.

As Terrible Writing Advice reminds us with biting humor, the worst sin isn’t writing a bad scene — it’s keeping a good one that doesn’t belong.

So, sharpen your red pen. Ask the hard questions. And when you must, swing the axe — because the story always comes first.