Books and Muggles

Writers are often told to “kill your darlings.” Bankers, on the other hand, would call that asset liquidation. And honestly, that framing hurts less.

If you have ever stared at your draft thinking, This is brilliant, I just need someone to agree, you are now ready to edit like a banker: methodical, unsentimental, and slightly suspicious of everything.

Let’s put on our imaginary thinking caps on and begin.

Bankers don’t just glance at numbers and say, “Seems fine.” They audit. They question. They assume something is hiding in the margins.

Apply that same energy to your story.

• Does every scene earn its keep?
• Is that subplot contributing, or just freeloading?
• Are your characters generating emotional returns, or are they jus​t existing?

If a scene can be removed and nothing changes, congratulations, you’ve found a non-performing asset. Time to restructure or write it off.

You know that paragraph where your protagonist feels everything? Joy, sorrow, existential dread, and a sudden craving for samosas​, all in three sentences?

That’s emotional overspending.

Bankers prefer clean, controlled transactions. So should your writing.

Instead of:

She was overwhelmingly, devastatingly, uncontrollably sad in a way that shook her to her very core…

Try:

She didn’t finish her morning tea.

Minimalism. Precision. Let the reader do some emotional investing.

If all your sentences look the same, your writing is basically putting all its money in one risky stock. Mix it up.

• Short sentences.
• Longer, more reflective ones that stretch like a slow Sunday.
• The occasional punchy line that feels like a mic drop.

A well-balanced sentence portfolio reduces reader fatigue and increases engagement dividends.

Bankers hate duplicate charges. So should you. Check for:

• Repeated ideas (“She was nervous… she felt anxious… her hands trembled nervously…”)
• Overused words (we see you, suddenly)
• Scenes that echo each other without adding anything new

If your story were a bank statement, would it raise eyebrows? Good. Fix it.

In banking, stress tests determine whether a system can survive a crisis. In writing, your crisis is your plot.

Ask yourself:

• Does your conflict escalate, or is it politely standing in a corner?
• Are the stakes high enough, or could your characters just take a nap and avoid everything?

If your story collapses under basic questioning, it needs reinforcement, not motivational quotes.

Ah yes. The painful part.

That beautifully written scene. The witty line. The metaphor involving monsoon clouds and heartbreak that you are very proud of. If it doesn’t serve the story, it’s not an asset – it’s a liability.

Remove it. Save it in a “Scraps” document if you must (think of it as a literary fixed deposit for future use), but don’t let it clutter your current draft.

Before you declare your story done, take one last look:

• Is the beginning strong enough to attract investment?
• Does the middle maintain momentum without overdrawing patience?
• Does the ending deliver satisfying returns?

If yes, your manuscript is financially and narratively sound.

Editing like a banker isn’t about sucking the soul out of your story. It’s about making sure every word earns its place, every scene contributes value, and nothing is coasting on emotional credit. Also, unlike actual banking, you are allowed dramatic flair. It should just be audited dramatic flair.

This post is a part of Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026.