Your Stories Are Probably Too Long
Here is how to fix that. Five Foundations of Storytelling Part Four - Cut The Fat
Foundation Four: Cut the Fat
This might be the most painful part of storytelling.
Because this is where your ego goes to die.
You spent all this time crafting the story, finding your thread, writing the perfect line that made your whole body light up when it hit the page.
But now you have to kill it.
Not because it wasn’t good. But because it wasn’t necessary.
Let’s talk about how to cut the fat from your story.
Half Life
When I was training at The Second City, we learned an improv game called Half Life. It was designed to teach us how to cut the fat in our scenes.
Here’s how it worked:
Two people would improvise a scene based on an audience suggestion. The teacher had a stopwatch and gave them two minutes.
At the two-minute mark, he’d call, "Time!" Then the same performers would do the exact same scene again—in one minute. Then again in 30 seconds. Then 15 seconds. Then 7. Then 3.
By the end, it was total chaos.
But every single time, the best version of the scene was either the one-minute or 30-second version.
Why?
Because the first time through, we were still finding the story. It was too long. Too slow. Too exploratory.
The more we repeated it, the more we instinctively cut out what wasn’t essential.
We were training ourselves to find the meat of the story faster. To skip the fluff. To get to the good stuff.
Here’s what I learned:
There’s always wasted time in the setup. The first 30 seconds of a scene often becomes five seconds in the next version.
You discover the "game." In improv, the game is the recurring pattern, the funny or meaningful thing. It’s the story’s core dynamic. (In a written story, it’s often the thread.)
You find the "Today is the day." You don’t want a normal day on stage. Something has to make this day worth telling. That becomes the center.
When you know the initiation, the game, and why today matters, you can get right into the story.
You can skip the rest.
Hints on Cutting the Fat
Here are three tools to help you:
1. Play Half Life with Yourself
Write your article or record your story out loud. Let’s say it ends up around 2,400 words (that’s 8 minutes spoken or about 5 pages written).
Now immediately do it again.
Try to cut it in half: 1,200 words. Four minutes. 2.5 pages.
I guarantee you won’t miss most of what you cut.
Sure, you’ll lose a few lines you love. But that’s what the next step is for.
2. Kill Your Darlings
In every movie script I’ve ever written, my favorite scene never makes the final cut.
Every time.
And it’s almost always for the same reason: it doesn’t move the story forward.
It was essential for me as a writer, but not necessary for the audience.
That’s the cost of a great story.
"Kill your darlings" doesn’t mean destroy what you love. It means don’t let your love for a particular line or scene keep you from telling the story that needs to be told.
Aaron Sorkin (The West Wing, The Social Network) once said:
“If it doesn’t help the story, it’s a distraction—even if it’s the best thing you’ve ever written.”
Oof. That one stings.
But it’s true.
3. Ask for Focused Feedback
Storytelling is usually a solo effort for me. I write alone. I think alone. I obsess alone.
But when it’s time to edit something really important? I let someone else in.
If you’re working to cut the fat, ask for specific feedback.
Don’t say, "What did you think?"
Say, "This piece is 1,200 words and I want to get it under 1,000. Can you tell me what felt unnecessary or confusing?"
You’ll get better feedback—and protect yourself from vague discouragement.
Same goes for stage work. After a talk, ask someone you trust:
"I’m trying to tighten that story. What would you cut to get in 30 seconds shorter?"
Final Thought: Respect the Attention Span
We live in a short-attention world.
More words don’t make you sound smarter.
They actually just make you sound unprepared.
Unless you’re contractually required to fill 30 minutes, don’t worry about being too short. No one is going to complain. And even if they are expecting 30 minutes, they’ll thank you for going 25. Trust me.
And they won’t be pleased if you go 35. Trust me again.
Cut the fat.
It can hurt a little.
But it’s what keeps your audience in the palm of your hand the whole time.
Great advice. I'm in an Episcopal lay preacher training class (ends tomorrow). We are to craft and preach sermons that last as close to 9 minutes as we can get them. My first draft is always way too long and I always have to cut the fat. It really helps.
The first time I let a professional writer look at my piece, she handed it back to me saying, “Cut the first third.” It was painful but she was right. The first 1/3 was the lead in that got me to the story.