Editing is a strange process, especially when you find yourself restoring a deleted scene.
Book Three of my fantasy series is a ‘behind-enemy-lines’ secret operation. Jo and Varla infiltrate the capitol to go after the Emperor. It’s all very tense and claustrophobic, far from the fast action of the previous two books.
During the entry to the city, we see the Lances, the emperor’s enforcers, drag a man away. Jo is certain he will join the list of the Vanished. Both the citizens and the City Watch stand back. This is a totalitarian state in which justice is whatever the Emperor and his heavies say it is. Jo is forced to stand on the sidelines for the sake of the mission.
Brief Encounter
For the second draft, I inserted a scene into Act One that is the first action encounter with some bad guys. Jo and Varla interrupt the Lances, as they detain more victims. We know nothing of the couple thrown from their house under arrest, or of the teenage girl helping them. The scene implies the teenage girl is part of the resistance. But in the deserted street, Jo chooses to draw a line. Attacked by the sergeant, she puts him down. Varla has no choice but go into action and deal with the others. It ends with five bodies and a survivor; a new recruit, little more than a boy.
For the next round of editing I deleted the scene. It seemed like an indulgence; gratuitous action for the sake of enlivening a dull first act. I already made the point about the fascist empire in the earlier scene. I invented a hook to introduce the teenage girl; Yari becomes the lead character in two further stories, seeded in this neat little callback. But she does nothing more in this story. She’s an unnamed symbol of resistance, a surplus character.
Worse than that, it’s a catastrophic decision on Jo’s part to attack the Lances. It’s supposed to be a secret mission; she’s effectively taken out the KGB in Red Square. What kind of leadership is that?
The scene remained cut for another round of edits. But in the following round, I put it back in. Why?
The Case for the Defence
For pacing, Act One needs motion. It needs a reminder of Jo and Varla’s competence; to see them in action, not merely report on it.
Thematically, it brings resistance front and centre. As a counterpoint to the earlier scene, Jo refuses to stand aside a second time.
Or does she? If the arrogant jackass hadn’t attacked first, would she have let the Lances take three people to torture and death? As soon as her Second Sight kicks in, she defends herself. At that point, the whole operation is exposed. She kills the sergeant. Varla acts by reflex. Give him a chance to take down the bad guys, he won’t hesitate.
It’s a bad tactical choice. But Jo is not perfect. She makes poor choices all the time. She loses her temper in the worst moments – and this is one of them. A perfectly cold, calculating leader like Major Smith in Where Eagles Dare would have let it go. That’s not Jo. She’s emotional, unpredictable, inwardly flying by the seat of her pants when outwardly she’s in control. The whole operation is on a knife edge.
Raising the Stakes
Now we have a dilemma; what to do with the survivor? Neither Jo or Varla will kill a defenseless boy, no matter what uniform he wears. This shows the moral difference between our protagonists and the forces of the Empire. Varla engineers a credible cover story and they let the boy go. Will he stick to it, or expose them?
Killing the Lances raises the stakes. There will be a man hunt, with Jo and Varla the chief suspects. Letting the boy go raises the stakes further; a direct link to the crime.
As for Yari and the couple, they are the Everyman/woman/child caught up in the machinations of a fascist state, ordinary citizens ground under the heel of the Empire. There’s no hint the unamed Yari takes centre stage later.
Balancing Act
The inclusion of a scene – any scene – comes down to some key criteria. There are no hard and fast rules.
Does it advance the plot?
Yes. We see the evil on the streets; Jo and Varla react.
Does it reveal something about character?
Yes. Jo and Varla embody resistance. We see the quality of their mercy toward friend and foe. We get a concrete example of their competence. Varla acknowledges they kicked the hornet’s nest. Will it stop either of them? No.
Is it relevant?
It shows the nature of the conflict. Is it subtle? No. Is it heavy-handed? Definitely. Is it a direct illustration of theme and character delivered through action? Yes. Could I do it some other way? Maybe.
Does it slow down, delay or obstruct the plot?
No. Hopefully, it adds some layers as well as ramping up tension.
Does it confuse the reader? Do they wonder why it’s included?
I doubt anyone will stop and think about it in any detail.
Is it essential? Does it absolutely need to be there?
I cut it once without any noticeably adverse effect on the rest of the story, so essential? No. But it becomes part of the First Quarter Debate. It’s the end of the Ordinary World section (such as it is). It wrenches Jo and Varla out of their non-existent comfort zone.
What does the story lose if we cut the scene?
Those direct revelations of character and theme. The scene has the first physical manifestation of Jo’s Second Sight in combat. This is a crucial mechanic of plot seeded here in Act One. Jo’s ability to fight is essential to the climax.
The Kid Stays in the Picture
To cut or not to cut? That is the question (sorry, Will). In the final edit, that nagging accusation of self-indulgence persists. I dropped another bunch of secondary characters into a large cast in Act One. I built a rationale around the introduction of Yari when I could easily do something else. But what?
After consideration, the revelations of plot and theme feel right. So the kid stays in the picture, along with Jo’s anger and contrary nature. I’m restoring a deleted scene.