Word counts exist for reasons. Print costs money. Readers have limits. A memoir delivered 40,000 words over contract. The author loved every sentence, and cutting felt like self-harm.
We approached the problem structurally first. Some chapters covered ground already established elsewhere. Certain anecdotes, however vivid, didn't advance the central narrative. We flagged, explained, suggested—but ultimately, cutting is the author's work.
The process took three rounds. First pass: obvious redundancies. Second: harder choices about beloved scenes. Third: line-level tightening that recovered another 3,000 words without removing content. The final manuscript hit target length.
The author later admitted the book was better shorter. Not every word serves the story. Sometimes editing means giving a writer permission to let go.