How to Know What to Cut from Your Novel

Many a new writer has faced the painful reality that, after finally writing 'The End', they need to cut 20,000 words. The challenge is significant; these are your words, your scenes, your characters. It can feel like dismantling something you’ve poured your heart into. But cutting isn't about destroying your work, it's about revealing the stronger story underneath.

This guide will give you objective criteria to identify what should go, transforming a painful task into a strategic revision process. We'll cover why novels need trimming, a hierarchy of cuts to focus your energy, and specific tests for scenes, characters, subplots, and prose. With this framework, you can cut confidently, knowing you’re not losing your story’s soul, but sharpening its focus.

Why Novels Need Trimming

First drafts are discovery drafts. We often write our way into the story, figuring out characters and the plot as we go. This process is essential, but it creates narrative dead ends and repetition that must be pruned later. Beyond tightening the story, there are practical reasons for cutting.

For debut authors, industry expectations for word count are a significant factor. While lengths vary by genre, most agents and editors look for debut novels to be around 80,000. Thrillers and some young adult novels may trend closer to 70,000 words, while epic fantasy and historical fiction might stretch longer. In general, the trend over the last few years has been for debut manuscripts to get shorter, and a manuscript that wildly exceeds these norms can be a red flag, suggesting the author hasn't yet mastered the art of concise storytelling. Publishers consider the economics; longer books cost more to print and ship.

Ultimately, cutting is about story efficiency. Tighter prose leads to faster pacing, which keeps readers engaged and turning the page. The goal is to ensure every single scene earns its place in the final manuscript.

The Hierarchy of Cuts: Where to Start

To make the editing process efficient, work from the largest elements down to the smallest. Don't begin by trimming individual adjectives and adverbs; you might spend hours polishing a sentence only to delete the entire chapter it belongs to.

Work in this order:

1. Full scenes or chapters: Entire sections that don't serve the plot.
2. Characters or subplots: Storylines or individuals who don't contribute meaningfully.
3. Paragraphs within scenes: Bloated descriptions or repetitive internal thoughts.
4. Sentences and phrases: Clunky or redundant sentences.
5. Individual words: Unnecessary adverbs, filter words, and clichés.

This top-down approach protects your time and energy. Cutting a non-essential subplot might eliminate 5,000 words in a single decision, whereas trimming adverbs one by one could take hours to save 500 words. As we said in our feedback guide, edit in order.

The Scene Test: Does This Scene Earn Its Place?

Every scene in your novel must justify its existence. To determine if a scene pulls its weight, ask yourself three key questions. A necessary scene will answer the first two, and a great scene will answer all three.

1. Does this scene advance the plot?

For a scene to advance the plot, something must change from beginning to end. This change can take many forms: new information is revealed, a character makes a critical decision, a relationship shifts, or a new conflict is introduced. If you can remove the scene and the overall story remains exactly the same, it's a prime candidate for cutting.

2. Does this scene reveal character?

Does the scene show the reader something new and essential about your protagonist or another key character? This could be a display of their core motivation, a moment of growth or backsliding, or a glimpse into their internal conflicts. Be honest with yourself: does it reveal new information, or does it simply rehash what the reader already knows? Characterization scenes should ideally be combined with plot movement to serve a dual purpose.

3. Does this scene build atmosphere or world?

The answer should always be yes, but even if it's yes, it's not enough on its own. While atmosphere and world-building are vital, they should ideally be woven into scenes that also advance the plot or reveal character. A scene that exists solely to describe a city or a magical system can bring the story's momentum to a halt. If a scene's only purpose is to build the world, it needs to be exceptionally compelling to earn its keep.

Red Flag Scenes to Examine First:

• "Morning routine" scenes: Waking up, making coffee, getting dressed. Unless a key plot point happens, cut to the action.
• Travel scenes: Characters moving from one location to another with nothing significant happening en route.
• Repetitive conversations: Dialogue that covers old ground or confirms things the reader already figured out.
• Backstory dumps: Long flashbacks or conversations where characters explain their history to each other for the reader's benefit.
• Lengthy setup scenes: Scenes that exist only to set up a future event without containing any conflict or development of their own.

The Character Test: Who Needs to Be Here?

First drafts are often crowded with characters who served a temporary purpose. Now is the time to conduct a supporting character audit.

List every named character in your novel and ask: What unique function does this character serve? If their role could easily be absorbed by another character, it's a sign they might be redundant.

Warning signs a character might need to be cut or merged:

• They only appear in one or two scenes.
• Another character could easily deliver their crucial information or perform their plot function.
• They were created to solve a single plot problem but linger afterward with no clear purpose.
• You, the author, forgot they existed for 100 pages.

Instead of simply deleting a character, consider the merger strategy. Could the protagonist's supportive best friend and the wise mentor figure be combined into one more complex and memorable character? Merging two minor characters can streamline relationships and give your secondary cast more depth.

Also, examine your character subplots. Not every character needs a complete arc. Supporting characters can be static if their purpose is to influence the protagonist's journey. A subplot about the best friend's unrelated romantic drama might be cut, while a subplot about their professional struggle that mirrors the protagonist's main conflict could be kept for thematic resonance.

The Subplot Test: Does This Storyline Justify Its Space?

Just like individual scenes, subplots must connect to the main narrative in a meaningful way. Map out each subplot and ask these questions:

• Does this subplot connect to the main plot thematically?
• Does it complicate the protagonist's primary goal or raise the stakes?
• Does it reveal something essential about the protagonist?
• Would a reader miss this storyline if it were gone?

A strong subplot should echo the novel's central theme. For example, in a story about trust, a subplot where a secondary character deals with betrayal can reinforce and deepen the main theme. Weak subplots often feel like they belong in a different book. Romance arcs that feel obligatory, workplace drama that distracts from the central mystery, or family conflicts that are introduced but never resolved are common culprits that can be trimmed.

If a subplot is thematically relevant but takes up too much space, consider the weaving-in alternative. Instead of dedicating multiple chapters to it, can you condense it? Keep the essential beats but reduce its page time by half, weaving smaller moments into scenes focused on the main plot. Spotting these instances can be challenging, and it's where tools like Inkshift come in. Inkshift provides a detailed critique of your novel's structure, plot, characters, setting, and prose so you can be better informed before you start cutting.

The Prose-Level Test: Trimming the Fat

Once you've made the big-picture cuts, you can approach the line-editing stage with confidence. This is where you trim the fat from your sentences to make your prose clean and impactful.

Common prose-level cuts include:

• Filtering Language: Words that distance the reader from the character's experience. Eliminate words like felt, saw, heard, thought, noticed, and realized. Some of these are necessary, but more often than not, you can state what they realized and readers will understand they're in your character's head discovering it as they do.
• Redundancies: Phrases that state the obvious. "He whispered quietly" (whispers are inherently quiet) or "She thought to herself" (who else would she think to?).
• Throat-Clearing Phrases: Filler phrases that delay the important part of the sentence, such as "It occurred to him that..." or "The thing was..." or my personal favourite, "In fact."
• Adverb Patrol: While not all adverbs are bad, many are a shortcut for stronger verbs. Instead of "He ran quickly," use "He sprinted." Instead of "She said loudly," use "She shouted." This one can be extra tricky, which is why we wrote a helpful guide on avoiding adverbs.
• Over-Explaining: Trust your reader to understand subtext. If the dialogue makes a character's anger clear, you don't need to add "she said angrily." Similarly, you don't need to show things twice. "She scratched her arm. She was nervous." It's already been shown, no need to state that she's nervous.

The Painful Darlings: When Good Writing Must Go

The advice to "kill your darlings" is famous for a reason. It doesn't mean cutting your best writing; it means cutting your most self-indulgent writing. These are the beautifully crafted sentences, witty scenes, or extensively researched passages that you love, but that don't ultimately serve the story.

Red flags that you're attached for the wrong reasons:

• "This paragraph shows off my beautiful prose" (but it doesn't advance the plot).
• "I spent weeks researching this historical detail" (but the reader doesn't need a three-page explanation).
• "This scene has my cleverest dialogue" (but the characters are just talking in circles).

It should be noted that the word 'cut' doesn't mean delete. Create a separate document and paste the trimmed material there. More often than not, you'll find a place for that writing, perhaps in your next manuscript. And more often than not, you'll realize your current story is better without it.

Conclusion

Cutting your manuscript is an act of respect for your story and your reader. It ensures that every word remaining on the page is powerful and purposeful. The goal isn't to create a skeletal story, but a muscular one, where every element works together to form a compelling and immersive reading experience. While it can be difficult to delete thousands of words of your hard work, remember readers won't mourn the scenes they never read. They will, however, appreciate the tight, engaging, and powerful story you’ve taken the time to reveal. The best cuts are invisible; the story simply flows.