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The writing world loves categorizing authors as plotters or pantsers, as if choosing your process is like choosing a Hogwarts house. Plotters outline. Pantsers discover. Plantsers do both. Pick your team.
I have published over 113 books and completed 54 ghostwriting projects. For a deeper dive, see Save the Cat! Writes a Novel. I am a plotter. Not because I read an article about the benefits of outlining and decided it sounded nice. Because my ADHD brain cannot produce 10,000 to 12,000 words a day without knowing what comes next, and because every project where I skipped the outline produced worse results than the ones where I did the work upfront.
Here is what I have learned about planning versus discovery, and why the debate is less about personality and more about what actually produces finished books.
What Happens Without an Outline
When I sit down to write without knowing what happens in the scene, my brain has to do two jobs simultaneously: figure out what to say and figure out how to say it. That is a recipe for paralysis, especially with ADHD. For more, see how to outline a book. My focus fragments. I stare at the screen. I rewrite the same paragraph four times. For more, see metaphors in writing. Three hours later I have produced nothing and feel worse than when I started.
An outline eliminates half the cognitive load. When I know what happens in the chapter, what information the reader needs, and what the emotional trajectory is, I am executing a plan rather than inventing from nothing. The blank page is not blank because I already know what goes on it.
This is not a personality preference. It is a workflow that produces pages versus a workflow that produces frustration. For writers with ADHD or executive function challenges, the distinction is the difference between finishing books and abandoning them.
What Outlining Actually Looks Like
Most writers who resist outlining picture a rigid document that locks every scene into place before they write a word. That is not how I outline. My outlines are structural frameworks, not scripts.
For Peacekeeper, my 45-year science fiction series, I built the cosmic framework first: the rules governing the universe, the political systems, the technology, the cultural assumptions of different species. That infrastructure had to exist before characters could move through it consistently. But individual scenes within that framework are discovered during writing. The macro structure is planned. The micro execution is discovered.
For Grim, my collection of thirty death stories, I planned the cosmic backstory completely before writing any individual story. I needed to know what fragments each story would reveal, how the accumulation would build, where the overall arc was heading. But each individual story was written with creative freedom. Within each death, I discovered how this particular person would experience mortality. The structure held. The discovery happened inside it.
For Shield of Ashes, compressing nuclear escalation into seven days demanded tight structure. The timeline controlled what could have been unmanageable sprawl. Every chapter had to earn its place within a countdown that left no room for wandering.
Each project required a different level of outlining. The principle was the same: know the structure, discover the details.
Why “Pantser” Often Means “Revision Nightmare”
Writers who draft without outlines frequently produce manuscripts that require massive structural revision. They discover the real story somewhere around chapter fifteen, which means the first fourteen chapters need to be rewritten to set up what they did not know was coming. Characters introduced early do not serve the plot that eventually emerged. Subplots wander because they were created in the moment rather than designed to serve the larger narrative.
I see this constantly in coaching. A fiction writer comes to me with a manuscript that is not working. We analyze it together and the problem is almost always structural. The story does not build. The middle sags. Characters appear and disappear without purpose. These are not sentence-level problems you fix with line editing. They are architecture problems that require going back to the foundation.
An outline catches these problems before you write 80,000 words that need to be torn apart. Three hours of outlining can save three months of revision. That math is not controversial. It is arithmetic.
The Spontaneity Argument
The standard defense of pantsing is that outlining kills spontaneity. If you know what happens, the writing feels mechanical. The joy of discovery disappears.
I have written over 113 books. The joy of discovery has never disappeared, because discovery happens at the sentence level, not the structural level. Knowing that chapter twelve involves a confrontation between two characters does not tell me what they will say, how the tension will build, what unexpected details will emerge in the writing, or what the scene will feel like on the page. The outline provides direction. The writing provides surprise.
Think of it like driving. Knowing your destination does not make the drive boring. It means you are not wandering randomly and ending up somewhere you did not want to be.
The writers who find outlining stifling are usually outlining wrong. They are writing detailed scene-by-scene scripts that leave nothing to discover. That is over-outlining, and it is as counterproductive as no outline at all. The useful outline sits between those extremes: enough structure to prevent wandering, enough openness to allow discovery.
How to Build an Outline That Works
Start with what you know. What is the central conflict? What does the protagonist want? What is preventing them from getting it? What is the emotional arc from beginning to end? These four questions give you the spine.
From there, identify the major turning points. What event launches the story? What changes the protagonist’s understanding or situation at the midpoint? What forces the final confrontation? What is the resolution? You do not need to know every scene. You need to know the structural pillars.
Fill in between the pillars with enough detail to know what each chapter accomplishes. Not what happens in every paragraph. What the chapter does for the reader’s experience. What information it delivers. What emotional shift it produces. What question it answers or raises.
My Plot Handbook covers three-act structure, character-driven conflict, stakes, and twists in depth. The Story Arc Handbook covers opening hooks, rising action, midpoint crisis, and climax. The Novel Handbook addresses novel-length architecture specifically, including saggy middles, character drift, and series planning.
What This Means for Your Project
If you have been writing without outlines and finishing books consistently, your process works. Do not change it.
If you have been writing without outlines and have a trail of unfinished manuscripts, the outline is probably the missing piece. Not because you lack talent or discipline. Because your brain is trying to do two jobs at once and neither one is getting done well.
If you are starting a new project and do not know whether to outline, try it. Spend three hours building a structural framework before you write chapter one. If the writing goes faster and the story holds together better, you have your answer.
For one-on-one help building a structure that works for your specific project, book coaching is designed for exactly this. For the full collection of craft handbooks, visit masterofworlds.com. To discuss a ghostwriting project, start with a conversation.
6 Responses
I would say I am a planter. I jump in to writing, but I also usually frame it out as I go along or partway. Fun to read about the different types. Everyone has their own style!
I’ve always considered myself a pantser. I tend to just write nonstop and organize my article later on. Sometimes, I would organize my thoughts as I write them down. I like the freedom it gives me and I find that truly relaxing, especially when I’m writing my blog posts.
I’m definitely a pantster. I just let whatever come out of my brain. The only problem is that I sometimes find myself painted into a corner.
I completely agree with this statement! As someone who loves to write, I have found that recognising my natural inclination as either a plotter, pantser, or plantser has helped me optimise my writing process and increase my productivity. It’s important to identify the conditions that allow your creativity to flourish and craft an environment that fosters it. Writing is such a beautiful journey, and it’s important to embrace your method, refine it, and keep going. Whether you’re writing science fiction, young adult books, or anything in between, it’s all about understanding your creative identity and letting your imagination take flight.
As a reader, your post was fascinating to me! I had never heard of 2 of the 3 categories before, at least not with those names. While I donโt write novels, the information I gained from reading this makes me want to go back and think about the approach used by some of my favorite works and some not so favorites. Curious to see if I can deduce which strategy appeals to me.
I am definitely a pantser. I love when my characters take on a life of their own.