Can you have “too much of a good thing” in a book? Absolutely. You don’t have to use every good idea you have.
When you’re writing your book, go ahead and indulge your creativity; the goal is just to get your words on the page. When you’re revising, you can pare it back until only the best ideas remain.
But what does that have to do with burgers?
The burger analogy
Have you ever been to one of those gourmet burger restaurants where there are dozens and dozens of toppings to choose from?
I think they’re great—I don’t like mustard, mayonnaise or relish, so most menus leave me with plain old ketchup as the default. You’d think that a build-your-own burger would be ideal for me: not so. I often wind up disappointed.
You see, I get so excited by the creative options in front of me that I pick all my favorites. And even though each part is fantastic on its own, the guacamole-pineapple-tzatziki-brie-coleslaw burger is never as delicious as if I’d just ordered one or two of those toppings.
Taking off the toppings
The same thing can start to happen with literary devices and other writing quirks: the more you combine, the less special each one becomes. It’s not about how brilliant each piece is in isolation: keeping the best ideas means keeping only the best one in that context, in that moment. They can’t all be the best at once.
For example, a well-placed metaphor can be extremely effective. Four metaphors in a row might leave the reader scratching their head or thinking the writing is clichéd.
One slang word might establish a character’s voice. A character who speaks like they swallowed the Urban Dictionary is unlikely to sound authentic (and their affectations may start to annoy the reader).
And it’s not just about the language.
Think about your favorite book or movie. Now imagine that you had to add in all of the following—without cutting any other scenes, and without increasing the word count: a love interest (or an additional one), three extra scenes with your favorite secondary character, another obstacle for the protagonist, and two flashbacks.
It’s possible that none of these extra scenes would be bad. But in order to make them fit without cutting anything else, you’d have to strip all the existing scenes down to their bare essentials.
Of course, in a real book, you won’t likely have a hard limit on the word count. You could add all those scenes and make each one fully realized. But are they necessary? It’s likely that those extra scenes would slow down the pace and distract the reader from the protagonist’s real goal.
Literary leftovers
It can be hard to let go of your favorite turn of phrase. Writing is personal, and it’s a great feeling to know that you’ve crafted a truly great sentence or come up with a thrilling plot point. But when your ideas are competing against each other, it’s better to let one win in the drafting stage than to let the reader discover the messy battle strewn across the page.
If you find yourself clinging to a line that you know doesn’t really fit, save it! There’s no reason you can’t repurpose it for something else in the future. When you feel disappointed about cutting it, remember that it was holding your other lines back: while both were there, neither could succeed.
How can you tell when a line’s pulling its weight and when it’s just making you feel good without serving the story? An editor can help, so send me a message; I’d love to learn more about your book and your goals.