Delete the darlings and pass the gravy

In honor of Thanksgiving (in the US), here is a look at some of the little things that help us do our work as writers more effectively, efficiently, and joyfully every day.

by Dietrich

In Canada, Thanksgiving lands in October, so the ham and turkey are already fond memories up here. But cheers to my American friends! There are many things for which writers can be thankful, of course: the support of family, fellow writers, community, mentors, editors, publishers, booksellers, librarians and readers.

We are grateful for time and freedom, the daily opportunity to express new ideas. Then there are the tools of modern technology: desktops, laptops, search engines and writing software. The internet alone has saved countless hours that I once dedicated to scouring reference texts or trudging to my local library for research. It’s funny; I was just at a writer’s event where I explained Wite-Out and correcting ribbons to a young writer. I think she thought I was making it up.

And there are the many little things which get overlooked and don’t get their due.

I am grateful for the silent hero of my keyboard: the delete key. That single, merciful tap that lets me kill a sentence before it embarrasses itself, or me, in public. One keystroke and it’s gone. A few seconds of revision later, and a better line takes its place. That delete key has improved many of my early drafts by subtracting, allowing me to be wrong on the way to being right.

I am grateful for the public library’s Libby app that lets me borrow ebooks and audiobooks without ever leaving my desk. It is an entire library catalog that never closes. And what could be more important than having stacks of reading material that always influence and inspire?

For when I am not at my desk—say, when I am on a walk, in the shower, or just deciding between Cap’n Crunch or Lucky Charms at the grocery store—and a fully formed scene, character detail, or plot solution drops into my mind. This flash of inspiration, seemingly conjured from thin air, is pure magic and an invaluable reminder that the muse might show up anytime.

There is a unique satisfaction that comes when a character I created suddenly becomes real enough to push back and stops doing what I tell them and starts doing what they want. It often takes the scene or the entire story in a better, more organic direction.

I am thankful for when I find the exact mot juste after rummaging through the mental thesaurus for that perfect word, evocative adjective, precise verb, or perfectly clipped line of dialogue. It just clicks into place, and the writing rolls on.

The first time someone other than me reads my work can be nerve-wracking. When they respond with enthusiasm, genuine interest, or constructive insights, it’s a profound "whew" moment. It validates the many hours spent in solitude and confirms that the story has successfully reached its destination—the reader’s mind.

And finally, I am thankful for the drive that pushes me to sit down and start again on that blank page every single morning.

Happy Thanksgiving.