killing my darlings

dear darlings,

meaning the things I have loved the most.

faulkner said to kill you, but I couldn’t do it.

the metaphors, the panic, and the old, unstylish lamp - all of you.

someone last week told me to cut off the pink flower tops and they would grow back better and more lush.

i didn’t, and now they look dry and neglected, like I never trusted them in the first place.

just when I think we have learned enough for the time being, and I just want to tip the chair legs back and exhale, something cracks from the weight of it all, leans me forward from two legs to four,

and my jaw slams shut with a sudden jolt.

this is the latest learning for me, the reluctant killing off - of you- beloveds.

You have become such a part of me that you have gotten in the way, so there is no chance for a heroine.

When I was in a play a long time ago my only line contained the word heroine, but I mispronounced it the entire nine weeks of rehearsals, and no one corrected me.

by the time the play was on stage, I couldn’t change it, because the line had become too much a part of me, and I couldn’t imagine an alternative.

nothing has ever been more relevant, today,

than what I need to cut away, in order to let the story survive.

i am going to start with the lamp, and then move to the metaphors, leaving the panic for last.