Most of my career I’ve been a “pantser,” writing by the seat of my pants, no outlines. (I tried outlining early on and it didn’t work and I blamed the process instead of myself.) Now I’m trying to work toward outlining at least the major points of my novels and serials, and it’s helping. Except when I don’t do it. I’m working on a couple of projects, one outlined, one not. Guess which is going faster?
The thing is, both can get you to the same place, and if you do it right, the reader never knows which method you used. In her seminal writing book, Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott espouses the idea of “sh***y first drafts,” which is to say that you can write anything you want in your first draft because no one will ever see it.* (Seriously. Show it to no one.) And that’s helping me right now.
I’m plotting this one story literally as I write it. I have no idea what’s happening next until the characters tell me. But one thing I can do–when I have an idea for a possible future development, I can drop a hint, foreshadowing things that may occur later. Maybe they won’t. If they do, I’ll look really clever. If they don’t, I’ll go back and take them out.
Think about Bill and Ted and their Excellent Adventure. Remember how every time they need some card to fall their way, they say, “Hey, if we remember later to go back in time to before now and drop the key behind this rock, it’ll be here now.” And then they pick up the key, because they know they have already left it there. Not only does this provide cover for plot points, it also shows they aren’t as dumb as they first looked. Same thing with writing “sh***ty first drafts.” You can always go back and insert things earlier in the book and the reader never needs to know you didn’t have that idea all along. Your plot works and you look smart.
When I read Jim Butcher’s first book, Storm Front, I was blown away by the neatness of his plotting. Everything that was necessary for the climax to work, he had laid down earlier in the book so seamlessly that you didn’t realize it was important until it was. And I’ve always wondered: Did he plan it that way, or did he write the ending and go back later and insert the passages he needed to make his conclusion work?
Who cares? Either way, it’s genius.
The thing is, plotting first makes the genius stuff easier. Of course, you have to be a genius to plot it all out in the first place.
Unless… Bill? Ted? Can we talk?
*If you are a writer, you need this book.