THE MIDNIGHT MAN - DELETED SCENES

Murder your darlings! That’s the advice often given to new writers. Along with: ‘it’s not what you put in but what you leave out.’ When I’m writing a book I invariably find one of the scenes that I think is one of the best has to be axed. It maybe because I’ve duplicated part of the story or it deviates too much from the plot, or it’s redundant in some way. Of course, that’s a painful moment when my finger hovers over the delete button. I find myself bargaining with the part of me that knows it’s for the good of the novel to chop out that unnecessary page. Maybe I can slip the scene into another chapter? Or maybe, after all, it’s best just where it is?

But no. If you’re going to be a professional writer you have to edit your work. And if that means some scene that you cherish has to go onto the cutting-room floor, so be it. Bite the bullet. Hit delete.

The following piece had to go. I was pleased how it flowed when I wrote it. And it seemed a good idea to include a fictional letter written by Van Gogh. After all, much of what we know about the man comes from his letters, so, logically, it would add veracity to The Midnight Man to include some of the artist’s correspondence (even if the letters were ones that I’d composed after carefully studying Van Gogh’s writing style). So, this letter moves the plot forward nicely, and I worked hard to give it a ring of authenticity. However… however… on re-reading earlier chapters I saw I’d already given the relevant information to the reader. So, the missive, I realized sadly, was redundant. And there is that advice to writers: ’Murder your darlings.’ After some soul-searching I wielded the electronic scalpel. The letter was gone.

However, as an example to anyone aspiring to write fiction out there I thought I’d share this with you. In the great scheme of things deleting a page from a work in progress doesn’t register a jot in real human suffering. Even so, after more than ten years as a professional writer when I hit the delete button there’s still a little voice in the back of head that squeaks: ‘OUCH.’

Dear Gauguin, {Arles, July, 1888}

Once I have the house then you will come. Do I have your hand on that? And say no more about my dreams of the red room. I was working when the day light permitted, which meant almost eighteen hours a day in the middle of June. The strain became too much and led to disordered sleep, and the red room dream became a ghost to haunt my head. It is gone now. So I’ll say no more of it.

Did I tell you about Ty? A slight girl, doll-like, with large brown eyes and black hair that descends below her waist. She works at one of the Zouave’s brothels and sleeps at the night café because the landlord’s wife had her thrown out onto the street. I plan to paint her and call the portrait ‘Sacrifice’. Ty is educated and has such delicacy of manners but she has a brother and sister who are barely out of infancy. So she works at the brothel in order to pay for their lodgings so they won’t be taken by the orphanage. The cost of this deprives her of any surplus money for her own roof or food. Lately, I’ve begun to give her a few coins when I can spare them. You will see from the sketch at the bottom of this page my plan for Ty’s portrait. I see her painted in shades of blue before a background of sunflower yellow…

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Until next time, keep murdering your darlings ;--)
Simon Clark