Are You A Plotter or a Pantster?

We see these quizzes online—are you a plotter or a pantster?—and we’re supposed to fit neatly into one box or the other. If you’re not familiar with the terms, a plotter is a writer who plots out the story before writing and a pantser is someone who “flies by the seat of their pants” and goes with the flow, writing whatever part of the story they want without a plan. I would venture to guess that most writers fall somewhere in between. I certainly do, and I consider myself a hybrid of plotting and pantsing. 

The logical part of my brain needs some structure, at least to begin, so I’ll write a vague outline of what I think will happen before I start my first draft. When I’m starting to sketch out my first draft, the first thing I want to know is my ending. For me, if I know how the story ends then I can create a beginning and middle that brings me to where I want to go. Through trial and error and fried brain cells, eventually I’ll hit on the last line of the novel. Once I have that last line I can construct a road map that will lead me, and the readers, through. A different way may work better for you. I know writers who prefer to be surprised by the ending as they discover it organically through the writing process. 

Once I have a general outline then I’ll do my best to break down what I think I know about the story into a chapter-by-chapter outline. Even as I’m writing the chapter outline I know my ideas are fluid and the outline will change as my understanding deepens. Once I have my chapter outline, then I’ll write my first draft.

The Dreaded First Draft Stage

I’ve made no secret about the fact that I hate writing first drafts. I wrote a series of posts about first drafts last year. Here’s the first post, Facing the Fear of First Drafts, if you’re interested.

Andre Dubus III said, “When you finish a draft of a poem, or short story or novel, you make sure you go out and celebrate all night long because whether the world ever notices or not, whether you get it published or not, you did something most people never do: You started, stuck with and finished a creative work. And that is a triumph.” I wholeheartedly agree. On March 11, 2025, I finished the first draft for my current work in progress. At 3:23 p.m., in case you’re curious (Pacific Time). You can’t see me, but I’m still dancing. Every time I finish a first draft I do a dance because, as Dubus III said, that’s a milestone worth celebrating. Yes, it’s a grandfather dance, but it’s still a dance.

This first draft was stubborn. I had a couple of false starts in August and September when things tuckered out because I didn’t know enough about the story to create that chapter-by-chapter outline. I began the first draft in earnest in November, so it took me about four months to finish. This draft ended up at 54,050 words. For reasons known only to my Muse, no matter how long the book is in the final draft, my first drafts are always around the 50,000 word mark. I know this first draft is terrible, but it had to be done. Terry Pratchett is attributed as saying, “The first draft is just you telling yourself the story.” That’s what I did for 54,050 words. I told myself the story as I know it, with the full understanding that what I know will change the further along the process I go. 

At least 50% of those 54,050 words will end up deleted into that cyberspace void where shitty first drafts are laid to rest. It can be hard, sitting there day after day writing scenes and dialogue so bad they should never seen by human eyes, including my own. But without forcing myself to complete that first draft, I won’t figure out what the story is really about. 

This is how I do it.

I start by sitting in front of my writing device. I know that sounds obvious, but you’d be amazed how many writers skip this step. Steven Pressfield said, “There’s a secret that real writers know that wannabe writers don’t, and the secret is this: it’s not the writing part that’s hard. What’s hard is sitting down to write.” So I start by sitting down.

Sometimes I sit at my Light Academia-themed desk at my desktop computer with my bust of David staring blankly at me (which is about how I look when I’m starting a first draft). With my pinched-nerve back, it might be less painful for me to sit in my recliner with my laptop. I write at home because I’m too distracted in bookstores or coffee shops. (Look at the pretty books! I haven’t tried that latte! Ooh, there’s a squirrel!) I turn on whatever playlist I’m binging on, or a rerun of Doctor Who, and finally (after talking to my cats and other procrastinating activities) I open my Scrivener file, which is where I write my first drafts. In Scrivener, I open my “Show Project Targets” counter so I can see it turn green when I hit my 500th word. Green is good. It means I hit my project goals that day.

I have a 500 word a day goal when I’m writing a first draft. On days when I feel like I’d rather pull out my own teeth with my fingertips, I tell myself, “It’s only 500 words.” No matter how tired I am, no matter how late it is, I sit down and type my story. Five hundred words is the minimum, but if the ideas are coming I’ll keep going. Occasionally, I’ll write 2500 words in one go, but that’s rare. Usually, I’ll write between 600-800 words. On days when getting to that 500th word is an accomplishment, I’ll stop there. 

Giving Your Story a Rest

Now that my first draft is done, I’ve put the story away, preferably for at least a month, sometimes longer. I call this “baking time” where I leave the story alone without working on it or even thinking about it much. I may work around my story a little; for example, my current work in progress focuses on one of my favorite authors, so I’m reading that author’s work during this time. But I’m not writing anything for the novel right now. I wrote about baking time here. By putting the novel away, I’m able to distance myself from what I’ve written, which is necessary for an honest assessment of what I have on paper and not what I think I have on paper. 

I am very much a Goldilocks writer. My first drafts are too short and my second drafts are too long. In my third draft I whittle the manuscript down to its essential elements. As a result, my third drafts tend to be closer to just right. At some point, usually the third draft stage, I discover the story I meant to tell in the first place. Sometimes, it may take longer than three drafts.  Then it becomes a matter of editing and making sure everything is all pretty-like. 

How do I know when a novel is finished? For me, a novel is finished when I can read it like a reader; in other words, instead of seeing things I want to change, I can sit down with the book and enjoy the story like anyone else. My editor might have a different opinion, but that’s how I know a novel is finished–when I no longer see things I want to tweak. 

Starting a new writing project can feel overwhelming. I’ve written 14 books, working on my 15th, and every time I write a new book I have to learn the process all over again. That is both the challenge and the joy of telling stories.