Favorite bits you've cut from the MS

JCornelius

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During editing we cut stuff because it doesn't belong there, even if, in itself, we like it.

So let's paste in some of our best cut stuff :D

I'll start:
[FONT=&quot] “Well, you will now,” drawled Bob in his macho menacing voice, and even added a sinister cackle, which mutated into a cough which in turn produced another gob spat onto a wall.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot][/FONT][FONT=&quot]Jen wasn’t too shaken by the sinister cackle—she took it to be just ego theater of someone who has lived in repressed and denied terror his whole life. This self-pity, self-loathing, and constant fright were the components out of which thugs like him wove their manliness. [/FONT]
 

MaeZe

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I cut the following opening because the story is YA when my character is older. It read like a prologue and that wasn't what it was. Instead I started the story in present time and started the intertwined earlier scenes when my character was a little older than ten.
“Scientist Brin will save her people. Then all the kids will wish they weren’t mean to her. They’ll ask to be her friend and she’ll say, yes.”

Overhead another satellite crossed the rings.

“Swift! That’s the third one tonight.” I wondered if it went through the ice and dust or if it passed inside the rings’ orbit. “Brin the engineer needs to build a telescope.”

A light breeze cooled the spring night. I pictured a giant paintbrush making the curved stripes of white, gray and black overhead. Tonight was clear enough to see the faint glow of ring rain hitting the upper atmosphere, never making it all the way to the ground.

“I bet the Founders have samples of ring rain. Biologist Brin will test ring rain on her experimental garden, growing super food. Founder scientists will be impressed, urging an exchange of knowledge. Everyone will cheer as—”

“Brin! Everyone’s looking for you!” Mark called as he and his twin brothers hurried into the clearing where I lay on my back watching the night sky.

I sat up. “Shoot, I forgot to tell my mom I’d be out late.”

“Are you kidding! It’s dangerous for you to be out here alone,” Mark said, sounding like a parent.

“How else do you watch the satellites and stars if you can’t go out at night?” Seemed obvious to me. “You can’t see the sky from the village.”

“It’s night, you’re only ten. I wouldn’t let George and Tom be out here alone. Why would your mom let you be out here at night?” Mark said.

Even in the dim light I could see George bristle at that.

Well that was just silly. Explorer Brin went out at night alone all the time. “You’re only twelve and you’re out here.”

“You need to come back with us, your mom sent us to find you,” Mark said, reaching out his hand to help me up.

Getting to my feet I brushed the dirt off my pants. At least he didn’t say it was dangerous because I was a girl. I smiled at that, as the four of us headed back to the village.
 

Tabitha Rose

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Here's a bit that I didn't end up using in my completed novel. It didn't quite fit, and was a bit over the top.

I couldn’t claim to be an expert on the different ways time can, in scientific terms, go wonky, but this was definitely different that what had happened earlier, where it was more of a shift in my perception.

Everyone in the room was frozen in place. Sadly, there was no food fight going on, because a dining room in mid-food fight would be an excellent place for a time stop. But no. Everyone was sitting politely at their tables. Most people had finished eating, so there weren’t even a lot of mid-bite freezes for entertainment purposes. And you would think that at least one person would have had the decency to knock their drink off the table just before, so it could be frozen in mid-air, you know, for effect. Overall, the least exciting freeze frame I’d ever seen. I gave it a solid C minus.

Not that I was one to judge. Although I did immediately think about the pranking possibilities involved, I was too scared out of my wits to do anything but sit in my chair.

What would happen if I moved? Would I leave a trail of vacuum behind me, since the air couldn’t move to fill in the gap until time started again? What would happen to the air where I was moving? Would it be compressed into a shockwave that would shatter glasses and eardrums when time started back up? I tried not to even consider the possibility of time not starting back up.

How was I even breathing? Was I even breathing? Deep breath. Yep, breathing. Okay so much for worrying about moving. Just the breathing in and out I’d already done would cause mass destruction when time started again, if moving were going to. Plus, I could see, which, if time were really standing still, I couldn’t, because, physics.

This was not all stuff I was coming up with off the top of my head. I’d once idly commented to my Aunt Samantha how cool it would be to stop time. The resulting hour of physics lecture had led me to never again wish for the ability to stop time, and to be more careful what I said around my aunt.

Boredom was setting in to replace fear. By my calculations it had been at least zero seconds since anything interesting had happened. More or less. Maybe even twice that.

That was it. Time to do something. I pushed back my chair.

And time started back up again.

Well, that was easy.
 

amillimiles

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Hmm I've cut way too much from current MS to count, but I randomly scrolled by this tidbit in my cut scenes:

As she held May’s hand firmly in hers and began the trek towards Kyrov once more, she saw him gazing at her with an impassive, inscrutable face.

It was the face of a liar, a conman, and a thief; of a man who had lost hope in the good in life and become a twisted, cruel reflection of the worst in this world.
 

Laer Carroll

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Prologues of some sort, a backstory for instance. I just put them in without worrying about doing it. I know on rewrite I'm likely to cut it altogether, move it further in, or chop it into parts and distribute it through out the story.
 

JCornelius

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Here's another one that I like but simply had to go :D
He stood up and pulled on his coat, ignoring the stares from the only other three tables with customers.
Some customers.
Local men in sport-suits. Wives and girlfriends that look like tired downmarket whores. A young couple with a kid, the whole family with subservient postures.
Why does everyone here look either like thugs or like broken losers? Where was the middle ground?
Undoubtedly, by the local reductionist coordinate system, he could only be a broken loser too, in their eyes.
And maybe he was. Indeed very likely was.
 
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Lakey

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I wrote a breakup scene that was a kind of prologue, worked very hard on it, and liked a lot of things about it. Then later it came to me that the story was that much better if these two characters were old friends without any kind of romantic history. Out goes the breakup scene.

I'd love to post a couple of lines from it that I was pleased with but I'm traveling at the moment and don't have access to it. Alas.
 

sideshowdarb

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I have written entire sections of a book that I cut out, in despair. I have small bits that have been wandering around looking for a home for a long time. I think I keep trying to add them on than build around them.
 

etihwmot

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I often have to throw things out (or completely re-write) when I re-read and notice they don't make total story-sense. Here's a 'big reveal' that got cut from a third draft:

She went back to the tags and found Jenny and Nick in there too, along with each of the internet exchanges she’d worked out. And then she found a tag called Smith. Her palms were sweating now and her heart was pounding. There was a set of signatures created specifically to look for her. There was no coincidence. She closed the folder. She’d found the leak. It was Rider.

In this case I originally thought that the fact that the MC was being targeted would be enough to implicate the leak. But by the third draft it made sense that she was being targeted. I wanted the reveal to happen though, so I had to add an event to an earlier chapter, then reference that event in this scene. I find this kind of rewriting incredibly time-consuming. Some of my continuity wrinkles take weeks or months to correct!
 

Mark HJ

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I started writing a sequel - all well and good. Part way in, I had a thought for a third instalment and wrote the opening 5k for that. Now the sequel is written, that third instalment needs re-writing because it no longer makes sense and chunks will have to get binned.

I try not to get too attached to things like that.