Trimmer’s Remorse

I’ve now reached the quarter mark in revising the second novel in the Kin of Fae series. Some 25% of Draft Two is officially done, and I’m humming along happily. The second-draft stage still ranks among my favorite parts of writing. I’d expected it to be more “WHY ISN’T THIS WORKING?”—all-caps agony and screaming into the void—but it’s been more like, “This is a decent little structure; here are three ways I can make it better.”

I do think I’ve grown between Books One and Two. The upside is, I’m better. The downside? I now cringe a little when I reread The Returned Child. Not because it’s bad (I’m still proud of it), but because I can now see the little things I’d do differently; more bravely, maybe? It’s that “bubblegum in the keyboard” feeling—sticky spots that I can’t un-notice. (I think Eddings once said something similar about his first book in the Belgariad series, Pawn of Prophecy, so I should pay a coin for that.)

I toed the line a bit much, maybe?

Mostly, what I think about are the pieces I cut for pacing. There were a few wicked little chapters about Ben—the Cormiers’ youngest, age six—and his beagle, Sir Barkington, and a brush they had in the woods with something exceedingly nasty. (Don’t worry; Sir Barkington saved the day.)

Ben’s voice was so different—young, curious, and funny in that unfiltered way kids can be—and the tone of those chapters shifted with him. I didn’t think I could make it work as part of the larger piece.

But I just finished revising a similarly abrupt point-of-view change for Book Two, and this time, I think I’ve made it work. Like, work-work. It’s emerged from revision as a darkly comic detour—tonally distinct, almost a little self-contained noir-horror fable that still fits neatly into the larger story.

Will it survive the next trim? Hard to say. By Draft Three—the final polish before I hand it to Beta readers—it might find itself on the cutting-room floor. But I suspect it’ll stay. And once Book Two is out in the world, I’m tempted to polish up Ben and Sir Barkington’s story as a little standalone tale.

I know, I know: “Kill your darlings.” But has anyone else ever suffered from Trimmer’s Remorse—that pang for the scenes you loved but let go?