Do You Keep Deleted Scenes?

I used to keep a deleted scenes folder. Every time I needed to cut a passage from a manuscript, I was reluctant to actually delete it, so I would put it in this folder instead. I told myself those passages were good writing, and someday, I might use bits and pieces in another story.

The truth is: I’ve never successfully recycled deleted scenes from one story to another.  

Oh, I’ve tried. But it ended up reading like it was held together with Scotch tape. Thank goodness a critique partner called me out. “What happened here? This doesn’t even fit. It’s like you shoehorned it in just because you liked it.” So what if I did? I thought as I moved it back to my precious word graveyard to rest in peace.

I reread what was in that folder lots of times, unable to imagine throwing out my precious words. There are a lot of craft-related reasons why it doesn’t work, and that’s why “kill your darlings” is such common advice to new writers. I knew that a lot of what I had saved wasn’t good. But some deleted scenes made me say to myself “DID *I* WRITE THAT? WOW!” I told myself that was why I never could quite drag that folder to the trash and hit empty. What if I threw away a treasure?

Consequently, I had a similar problem with rewriting the novel that would become my graduate thesis. I had been trying to rewrite it for many years, and even though I loved the central story, my efforts never worked because I agonized over deletions. I wanted every good part of the previous draft to go in. I finally had to admit that I had no idea how to do a structural rewrite. I just didn’t know why it was so hard for me. It’s not like I don’t understand character arcs or plot architecture. And it’s not like I have any problem blitzing sentences or scenes that don’t pull their weight.

My light bulb moment came toward the end of grad school, when I was training to be a coach. To be quite honest, I still feel silly when I remember how surprised I was that my full understanding came through a coaching program and not my writing program. But I was relieved to finally know that my problem wasn’t a writing problem at all.

It was just fear.

Well, it was attachment. And the root of all attachment is fear.

I could easily see that I was attached to my words. But the fear part…

What exactly was I afraid of?

I was afraid I might need them someday.

I had to think about that. Why would I ever need these old, ill-fitting words? Did I believe that words are scarce for me? That I might not be able to write any more? That I can’t write any better words? That writing is not the best thing I do? That I’m not good enough at writing? That *I’m* not enough?

This is ridiculous.

Writing is the one thing I’ve always been 100% sure of my entire life. Even still, I can  feel the downward spiral of that as I type it. What if I wasn’t good enough at the one thing I had always known how to do? What if I would never make it? Once it I was aware of it, I could understand the hold that fear spiral had on me when it was unconscious. Now that I know it’s there, I can laugh at myself when I start thinking, that was really good. It doesn’t fit here but I should save that for later. 

That kind of scarcity/clinging/lack thinking is what led me to keep all my deleted scenes. It was an act of courage to stop acting on my fear and lack and start acting on trust in my abilities as a writer. All I had to do was trust in who I have always been. Through the lens of empowerment coaching, I’ve learned that I get to choose whether I have power over the words, or the words have power over me.

It turns out that many writing problems are not actual writing problems. A lot of us are motivated by fear and lack.  We have POV problems. We are all unreliable narrators until we see the truth about how we trip ourselves up.

Does that mean I think keeping a deleted scene folder is a mistake?

Not necessarily. It was a mistake for me. Maybe it is for you, too.  If you’re squirming right now and identifying with this post, maybe you should ask yourself: Why do I save these scenes?

If you have a good reason that is working for you, I see no reason why you shouldn’t. Maybe you clean them up and give them away as bonus materials. Or maybe you turn discarded lines into poetry. Maybe it is actual treasure for you.

But if you never do anything with them, if you suspect they’re draining you of energy in any way, if you even think saving is an excuse to not rewrite, I recommend letting them go.

They’re just words on a page. You’re a writer. There is more where they came from.