Sigh. I know exactly what you’re talking about in this post.

It’s because of these kinds of stories being so widely dispersed that would-be vampire authors abort their brainchildren before their horror can be inflicted upon the world.

VtM nothwithstanding.

You’re right, for the most part — my only caution is, a lot of darlings will always be that. Darlings. Giving them a support system can, in some cases, be the same as plugging arteries into a fatty tumor — you’re just letting something unnatural live on because *you* like it, not because it’s worth keeping around from a narrative audience perspective.

But it can’t hurt to keep those things sequestered away, sure.

Me, I mostly just kill mine. Once I find them, I generally accept they’re going to be empty calories now and later.

– c.

I’ve mentioned this sentiment before, though more about your favorite parts of a draft – not the specific characters. This is an amazing piece Chuck, and has given me more than just a little bit to think on.

Once you’ve copied that darling out to a blank file and decided it doesn’t belong, copy it again to a “Darling Purgatory” file. After all, if it really is a clever turn of phrase or nifty bit of scenery, it can be used to spice the hell out of another dish. (Is that a mixed metaphor now, or cannibalism?)

You can periodically go through your purgatory file, and pull out darlings. Build flash fiction around them, tie three or four together as the skeleton of a new story, or suddenly realize that this bit is exactly the hook you need to make that paragraph in your British Parliament slash-fic really work.

So, maybe rather than killing your darlings, you should think of it as “encouraging them to seek more appropriate opportunities in another avenue of employment.”