Murder your darlings – this is what has been circulating in my head.
Ever since I got home today, I was unable to do anything productive. I planned to do my assignments or a little bit of work, but somehow I was not able to do that. My mind was completely somewhere else, and somehow I heard these three words whispered to my head.
Murder your darlings.
All writers know this phrase. It basically means no matter how much you love your words and sentences and your writing, if it’s not relevant, chop it off. Be ruthless. Writers have an obligation to their readers. They have to murder their darlings.
And it’s hard. Words have always been our baby.
But today I heard these three words, and I wasn’t thinking of my writing. I was thinking of something else.
My pride.
I have quite a pride. Not to that level, but yeah, generally more than other girls. Sometimes I forgot that it’s pure grace. It’s not me who makes things happen, it’s someone else’s kindness. It’s a friend’s support. It’s a family member’s trust.
I don’t do all these things by myself – someone has always been there for me to support me, to guide me, to give me a chance.
Yet sometimes I forgot. I forgot that me, standing here, is not because of me.
Not because of my accomplishments or successes or whatever.
And these – these are my darlings.
My pride. My accomplishments. My statistics. My successes.
My darlings.
Not that I’ve done something great. Not that I’ve done something worth a mention on the New York Times. I’ve done nothing. And yet, at times I act as if I’ve saved the world.
My darlings.
I have to murder them.
I guess that’s something that I’m really struggling with.
Being a humble, kind girl.
I definitely am not.
But I would definitely want to start with murdering my darlings.
Photo by Moeko
