Plotter or Pantser?

I’m a plotter when it comes to writing novels, and wrote a detailed, single-spaced outline of An Audience for Einstein before starting chapter one. The same was true of my two earlier novels. Since “to plot or not?” is an important consideration for novelists, I thought I’d discuss the pros and cons of both approaches.

In case you’re unfamiliar with the term, pantser- as in flying by the seat of- is the name given to those bold writers who start with the proverbial blank sheet of paper and merrily begin typing or dictating their novels with- supposedly- only a vague idea of where the long, winding writing road will take them. I take the boastful claims by those pantsers who swear they had no idea what they were about to write with a grain of salt and you should to. Here’s why.

Plots have an inherent structure that vary by the type of novel you’re writing. There are the coming-of age novels, the hero’s quest novels, the self-discovery novels (usually involving an epiphany of some kind) and many others I’ll discuss in future posts. There are also significant structural differences between genres- hard-boiled detective mysteries are different from the Harlequin-style romances, which are different from cyberpunk novels, etc., although there are intriguing “hybrids” that successfully blend genres. (I’ll discuss why it’s probably a bad idea to start your career as a hybrid novelist in a future post, particularly if you’re expecting great and immediate commercial success.) Each type of novel has its requirements that must be realized for that novel to be categorized as that particular type. Stray too far from those requirements and your novel will lose its label. It’s important for readers to know what kind of novel an author has written since readers have their likes and dislikes and gravitate to those novels that check all their “like” boxes. Sally loves romances but hates science fiction; Bob loves mysteries but hates romances. The same is true of writers. For example, I will never, ever read or try to write a 600 page historical romance set in Victorian-era England. Ever. For other novelists, historical romance novels are all they read and write.

Now, back to the boastful claim by the pantsers that they had “no idea” what kind of novel they were writing. I don’t believe that to be quite true because of their own inevitable literary likes and dislikes. Name a pantser’s favorite genre or type, and the odds are enormous that’s exactly what’s going to appear as their blank pages begin to fill up with prose.

Whether they admit it or not, there are two other reasons to believe that pantsers actually have a good idea what they’re going to write before they start writing, beyond their own literary genre prejudices. Familiarity and comfort zone.

If you’re favorite genre is romance, you’ve probably read all the major romance authors, maybe went to a romance novel convention or two, and have your own opinion of what a good romance novel should constitute. That familiarity can’t help but spark your imagination in the genre that so intrigues you. Undoubtedly you know that to write good fiction, you need to read good fiction; you can’t operate in a literary vacuum, and by reading as much as you can (particularly but not exclusively in your chosen genre) you’ll be surprised at how many plot ideas occur to you, plots formed from the totality of all you’ve read yet original rather than derivative. (It’s the wanna-be novelists who read just one novel- usually a blockbuster- and want to duplicate that success for themselves who write the derivative books, ones that are mere shadows of the original and hopelessly unpublishable.) As for comfort zone, if you’ve never read a mystery novel, you’re well aware you have no idea what those plot requirements are, or even how to begin writing one without leaning heavily on all the old, worn-out plot clichés, which of course you’d never do. That genre’s just not in your comfort zone.

All that further narrows down what’s going to appear on the page as the pantsers write their novels.

So, do pantsers actually plot their novels in their heads? In a word, yes. What I believe successful pantsers have in common is the ability to gather all the elements needed for a novel in their subconscious minds and let those elements grow and connect, bubble up and expand until there comes a point they just know they’re ready to sit down and let it spill out on the page. It won’t be perfect, that first draft (none are, really) but in the end what they’ll have can keep the momentum going.

It’s a fairly rare ability to form and hold a novel all in your head, but I would compare successful pantsers to the best chess players, who can see in their mind’s eyes the myriad counter-moves an opponent might make as they contemplate the next move of their own. It’s that ability to see far down the road, consider the possibilities and select the best choices that makes winging it possible.

A few pitfalls, though. I suspect those pantser first drafts have multiple holes in their plots, the sequence of events somewhat skewed and not all the characters quite flesh and blood. Some of those drafts are probably short, too, less than average length for the genre they’re writing. But all that’s fixable in subsequent drafts.

Does that mean if you think you can do it, winging it is the way to go if you’re itching to start your novel? Possibly not.

For some novelists, there are advantages to having an outline, a roadmap to follow. One is the solid reassurance- right before your eyes- that yes, I can write this novel because here it is, spelled out from beginning to end and everything makes perfect sense. No plot holes, the timeline’s clear and the ending wraps everything up nicely with no loose threads. Those novelists are the type who can’t say “surprise me!” like the pantsers when the next chapter is looming and it’s not all that clear what comes next. Some writers thrive on that kind plot ambiguity in an adrenaline-pumping sort of way, take it as an exciting challenge to overcome; others freeze up and can’t write another word.

Perhaps it’s a combination of both confidence and daring as to whether winging it is right for you.

Another advantage to having a written, detailed outline before you begin: your first draft will probably be pretty darn good, or at least as good as your outline. Most likely that means fewer subsequent drafts will be needed to make your novel publisher presentable. No sudden realization that whole scenes or chapters need to be cut or created, or that a subplot you thought was a great idea detracts from the novel instead. Those are the kinds of risks you take when you’re a pantser, and although there’s a subset of pantsers who’s first drafts are as good as those of the best plotters, that ability seems rarer still. Going back to the chess player analogy, those few expert pantsers are the Grand Masters of their craft.

Only you know if you’re a plotter or a pantser, but either way you need to get motivated and stay motivated to write a novel, the topic of my post next time.