Pantser Versus Plotter: Which One Are You?

Pantser versus plotter: an unending debate. But what about plantsers? Photo by Saffu on Unsplash.

Author’s Note: This is an updated version of an archived post. Because of family commitments this week, I will be reviewing and rereleasing some of my previously published work for today’s audiences. The original version of this post was published in 2016.

Sooner or later, every fiction writer will be on the receiving end of an annoying question or two. One of the silliest is the pantser versus plotter debate: “Are you a pantser or a plotter?” You might be forgiven for wondering briefly if they think you’re a prankster who moons people, but what they’re really asking is whether you tend to wing it or plan out your work in advance.

Pantsers, the theory goes, are writers who like to “fly by the seat of their pants.” They’re spontaneous, fun, and none too keen on commitment. Pantsers are those tortuous people who like to drop hapless characters into a world of their own creation and see what happens. Stephen King is a notorious pantser–the king of pantsing, if you will–which can quickly be confirmed by skimming his book, On Writing.

Plotters plot everything. They make outlines. They write character sketches. They keep index card files and sticky notes and color-coded notebooks around at all times. Their backstories have backstories. They know everything that is going to happen, and when, and why, and when their characters get to the next arc stage, they’ll be waiting with cookies. They are the domestic divas of the writing world. Also called planners, plotters don’t make a move without first trying to strategize several more moves ahead. John Grisham is often cited in lists of famous plotters, and this methodical approach tracks with his alter ego as an attorney.

Although they usually refer to creative technique, these terms, for me, more accurately describe the ways in which writers’ dominant personalities drive their craft. You don’t have to be a writer to be a pantser (a fun-loving free spirit who likes to go with the flow) or a plotter (Martha Stewart on steroids, before that whole prison thing). As it happens, I’m a percolating pantser who wishes she was a completely Type A, Grade A plotter, living with a houseful of unreformed pantsers who could not care less. My spouse mostly tolerates my incessant requests for upcoming plans with a reasonable humor. Actually making a reservation or committing to a schedule or itinerary, however, invariably falls to me. Now that all my pantsers understand one other–and I understand that they’re all nuts–we’ve reached an uneasy detente, but their carefree spontaneity is always moments away from driving me completely up the wall.

Cutesy terminology and exasperating housemates aside, however, there is a much simpler way to understand the myriad ways authors approach novel writing.  Do you start with story, or do you start with character?

I have reread The Weekend Novelist, Robert J. Ray’s classic how-to novel-writing guide, often enough to permanently dog-ear its soft cover. It’s a straightforward step-by-step instruction manual on how to complete a novel draft during one’s typical off-hours over the course of a year. It’s well-written, informative, and filled with literary examples. It’s also never worked for me.

It’s taken me years to reach the conclusion that the problem isn’t Ray’s book, it’s that the chapter sequence is out of order for a writer like me. Ray’s overriding technique is character-driven: He starts by sketching characters, getting to know each one of them intimately. Ray’s primary concern is understanding each character’s desires and fragilities. Only once he has pages and pages of backstory and descriptive detail does he begin placing them in scenes, and, after loads of such scene-building, he finally moves on to plot. It obviously works for him; he and plenty of similar writers have the portfolios to prove it.

Sorry, gang, that’s just not how I roll. I’m a journalist. I write like one. I am a story-driven writer.

Reporters have to defend their stories in pitch meetings, often before they ever set pen to paper. A seasoned news editor wants to know one thing: “Who cares?” If the story isn’t compelling and timely, it gets spiked. If we don’t start with the details of story, we may never get around to selecting all the people we want to use to help tell it.

In my writing world, characters exist for storytelling purposes. If all the world’s a stage, then story-driven writers like me are the casting directors. Characters are actors who must audition if they’re going to make the main show.

Story-driven writers are writing to make a point, to tell a specific story, and we cast characters based on their ability to help move that story along. Their dreams, goals, backstories, motivations are still important, but secondary to deciding whether or not the narrative is worth telling at all. We’ll discover those things as the adventure unfolds, but only if they add richness to the story itself.

A character-driven novelist uses the wants and needs of his or her assembled cast of characters to determine what the story will be and where it will go. A story-driven novelist starts by deciding what story he or she wants to tell, then uses that information to choose which characters need to be written.

So, my dear writers, among the pantsers, plotters, and percolators, which one are you? Are you motivated more by story, or by characters?