I’ve said several times over the years that I’ve gone from being more focused on outlines to being more of a discovery writer. Some writers do well with an outline, and in the past, when I was less sure of my own writing process, I’d obsess over the outline. The truth is, some writers enjoy planning, just like some people thrive on spreadsheets, scenes on index cards, and chapter summaries. I used to enjoy planning in detail, but somewhere along the way I realized that nearly all of my plans went out the window as soon as the characters came to life and started telling their own stories. Woo woo, yes, I know, but I’m very woo woo when it comes to creativity.
As a result, I’ve wandered much closer to the pantster end of the writing spectrum. Most of my novels begin with a character, an atmosphere, a question, or maybe even a single thought or image. Unlike other pantsters, I do tend to know how my story ends, but getting from my spark of inspiration to that ending can be an interesting process. The thing is, the story still needs a structure whether I write an outline or not.
Readers may enjoy surprises, but they don’t enjoy confusion. Even the most literary or atmospheric novel requires some logical progression as it moves toward the ending. We pantsters tend to structure novels differently than plotters do. We may not build the framework before writing the story because we’re building and writing at the same time. So how do you create structure when you don’t outline? It’s more a matter of working through your ideas, deciding on the direction of your story, and then making sure all of the elements work toward that ultimate goal.
Start With a Direction, Not a Map
One misconception about pantsing is that it means writing completely at random. Even when I don’t start with an outline, I usually have a sense of direction. I already know the ending, and I know the themes and psychological territory I want to explore. I know the central mystery. I know the relationships that fascinate me. I know the atmosphere I want to share with readers.
The route remains unknown, but the story is still moving toward something. At some point in the writing process, I have to ask myself what the story is really about. I love writing with themes, and I’ve addressed some big ones in my stories. Loss. Identity. Obsession. Family. Forgiveness. Memory. Once I understand the main focus of the overall story, it becomes easier to recognize whether a scene belongs in the novel. I spoke more in depth about that here.
Let the Characters Create the Plot
Many pantsters discover plot through character. Rather than asking “What happens next?” we ask “What would this person do next?” When characters have strong desires, fears, flaws, and motivations, they naturally generate conflict. Conflict creates consequences. Consequences create new decisions. New decisions create story. See the flow of progression here?
Some of the strongest plot developments in my own novels were never planned. They emerged because a character made a choice I hadn’t anticipated. The key is making sure those choices remain emotionally honest. A surprising plot twist matters less than a believable human reaction. I wrote more about this here.
Pay Attention to Questions
One thing I’ve noticed about successful novels is that they are often built around questions. For example, a mystery asks who committed the crime, and a romance asks whether two people can overcome the obstacles between them. A literary novel asks whether a character can understand themselves or reconcile with the past. Readers keep turning pages because they want answers.
Structure Can Be Found During Revision
This may be the most important lesson I have learned. With The Professor of Eventide, I needed to go through four drafts before I completely understood the story. That meant that I needed to change a lot during the revision process to make sure the story felt coherent and connected. As I go through the revision process, I often discover patterns I wasn’t consciously creating but they’re there on the page just the same. Themes, images, and character arcs begin to emerge. Certain scenes carry more emotional weight than I realized when first writing them.
Revision allows me to strengthen and connect those patterns. I’ve said before, and I’m sure I’ll say it many more times, but you need to be brutal when you revise. The only thing you need to be loyal to is the story you’re telling. Sometimes that means moving scenes or even cutting entire chapters. There have been times when I’ve cut more than a thousand words at a time. Painful? Yes, but sometimes necessary. If something needs to go because it doesn’t help your story then it needs to go. My earlier drafts were not wasted words. They were a necessary process of discovery.
Trust the Process—But Not Blindly
Pantsing requires a strange balance between intuition and discipline, meaning that you need enough freedom to explore unexpected possibilities, but you also need enough awareness to recognize when the story is losing momentum because of extra scenes. Or it might be the opposite and you’re missing scenes that connect the dots.
Over the years, I’ve learned to trust my instincts and follow the interesting character or chase the surprising idea. But even though I’m flying by the seat of my pants and writing the scenes that occur to me, I still have to take a step back, look at what I’m creating with an editor’s mind, and ask myself where the story is heading and why. From that point, I need to use my internal compass about the direction of the story and I need to make sure that everything in the manuscript works toward that end goal.
A lot has been written about the difference between being a plotter or a pantster. I’ve written about it myself before. But the truth is, readers don’t care how a novel was written. They only care whether it works for them. No matter how you approach your own writing, the goal is to find the process that allows you to tell the story you want to tell. That’s always the most important part, and for some writers that means outlining every chapter, and for others, it means trusting that the road that will lead you and your readers from beginning to end will reveal itself one page at a time.
As I said, I’m a little woo-woo about these things, but from my own experience I believe that sometimes the story knows where it’s going long before I do. Then it’s up to me to catch up and bring the story to life.