I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression (the internet is full enough of those.) 

If you’ve seen my other blog posts, you know that I am currently planning a new novel. (That’s planning with a capital P.) I have a workbook filled to the brim (Seriously, it barely closes) with notes on character motivation and backstory, and pages about every scene. I have a bulletin board full of color-coded note cards denoting each story structure beat. So you would be forgiven for assuming that when I sat down to compile my outline yesterday, it went swimmingly.

But you know what they say when you assume…

Reader, I made it to chapter three before the outline fell apart. I think it’s my new record. 

Okay, saying the outline fell apart is a touch dramatic. It didn’t fall apart so much as it wandered off course. 

Now, an outline isn’t something I typically do. I usually draft directly off my notes and note cards, but as an author with an option clause in her contract (this means I pitch my current editor with my next book idea before going to anyone else with it), I will need an outline that is coherent to someone other than myself. 

So, I took all my notes and my notecard for chapter one and drafted a blurb for the outline. It was true to my notes and I liked it. Then, I drafted the blurb to chapter two. I made a change, and deviated slightly from what I had written down. I liked the change — I thought it allowed more room for character development and set a more natural pace for the plot. But now, I had a problem with my next chapter. There was a disconnect, a gap getting from point A to point B. It’s an easy enough fix. I need to add a chapter between my current chapter two and chapter three. Cue scene worksheets and index cards.

I guess my point is, the plan is changeable, and should be. I think there is a misconception that Planning is less creative than Pantsing, but Planning doesn’t mean your story is set in stone. The notecards and outline are not contractually binding. By the time you reach the stage of writing an outline or a chapter, you have a deeper understanding of your characters and your story. If a scene isn’t working, pull it out and try something else. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t force it. Because if something doesn’t ring true to you, it won’t ring true to your readers, either. 

Now, I can hear your objections already. Why spend all that time and energy planning your story if you’re not going to stick to it? 

Because the point isn’t to make a perfect plan. The point is to uncover your story. Pantsers use discovery writing. I use the workbook, the notecards, and the outline. You use whatever works for you. We are all just using different paths to get to the same place: the best story we can write. 

I sometimes hear Pantsers referred to as Gardeners, and I like that comparison. They are growing their story from seed. Some ideas flourish while others die on the vine. Some things need to be fertilized and encouraged, some grow wild, some need to be pruned back. Meanwhile, Planners also go by the name of Architect. It brings to mind images of precision and structure, glass and steel. And maybe that comparison is apt, too. But no two buildings are ever quite the same, and anyone who has ever done a project on their home knows to expect a surprise or two, to make sure there is room in the budget to fix a problem they didn’t know existed until they uncovered it. It never goes exactly to plan.