Most writers have heard the terms “plotter vs pantser”, or “architect vs gardener”. They are the most common ways to describe the two general types of writers.
Some of us like to plot and plan beforehand, architecting some grand outline where all the puzzle pieces neatly fall into place. And then they turn that outline into the actual book.
Some of us, like me, hate having an outline beforehand. We write “by the seat of our pants”. We plant an interesting seed in chapter 1, and then play the gardener who balances letting it blossom and guiding it the sunlight. In a sense, once we’re done with the first draft (which is mostly improvised), that is our outline or plan for finishing the book.
Both have their advantages and disadvantages. The only important part, really, is to figure out which type you are. Lots of advice around writing is given from the perspective of that particular writer, who may be a different type of storyteller than you are. And so, if you follow that advice, you are actually working really hard to hurt yourself in the process.
I tried following strict outlines, story formulas, beat sheets, and what not for years … and felt terrible about every story, if I ever finished one. Despite half the internet being filled with talented, credible writers telling you about outlines, it doesn’t matter because they are not the type of writer that I clearly am.
I improvise. I do whatever every day. I hate having a planning, or knowing what will happen tomorrow, and since I learned that I could harness the power of improvisation to be far more productive and have a better mind-set.
Recently, however, I stumbled upon a much more interesting—and in my view correct—explanation of this difference. You can read those paragraphs for yourself, if you want. I’m just going to summarize and give my thoughts below.
The explanation I gave above is the one generally accepted. Pantsers get bored or demotivated from having an outline, while plotters just can’t do any work until they have that outline. One prefers surprise and freedom, the other prefers structure and certainty. It feels like a clash of personality types and habits, moreso than anything writing related.
But … this isn’t entirely true. Most people fall somewhere in between those extremes. And even me, a huuuuge pantser, will have outlines and plans from time to time. Even I have a few projects where I clearly felt the need to have a grand vision and planning far ahead. Such as the Wildebyte Arcades, which is currently at book 10, but has had a general planning until book 32 since book 5 or so.
Even I have times when I clearly feel the need for certainty and structure. Even I have times when I am actually overwhelmed by not having a plan, and feel excited by having a plan. I regularly start an idea with just a very vague and global concept or theme, and then have to really struggle to actually find the seed of a plot in there.
The true difference, as that source correctly identifies, is how you think about storytelling. It’s not a matter of “oh outline boring” or “oh I am a structure freak”, it’s about how you think about stories. How your brain thinks that stories should be invented, made, developed, and explored.
The plotters or architects think stories are created from deductive reasoning. They start with general premises, assumptions or truths, then work their way to specific details and events.
For example, a plotter will start any project or idea with a more global approach. They’ll start with something like “What if the world worked like X?” or “What if we had a character who learns to overcome Y?”, and the specifics of how the story would go follow. That’s the natural flow of storytelling if you ask their brain.
The pantsers or gardeners think stories are created from inductive reasoning. They start with specific story nuggets, then work their way to general plot and structure.
For example, a pantser will start any project with a handful of interesting first chapters or specific events they want to happen. Many of my projects started because I had a specific scene in mind: “Wouldn’t it be cool if X and Y, and then a character does Z, and it all takes place inside a volcano?”. The general plot that would lead to such a (bizarrely specific, but exciting) scene then follows later. That’s the natural flow of storytelling if you ask their brain.
And I feel this distinction, this way of looking at it, is far more practically useful. If you know your storytelling brain, then you can use that to get the best possible story with the least possible struggle. And you can ignore that 50% of advice that is simply not aimed at you, because it tells you how to tell a story you don’t want to tell.
For many people, this is also related to where the “fun” in writing comes from. And, well, having more fun in your life is always a good thing. Especially for the lonely and challenging job of writing a book of 100,000 words.
I am a problem solver. I solved sudokus before I even learned what numbers were. (Which is also why I skipped some grades in school.) I taught myself how to program, because coding is nothing more than logically solving problem after problem.
And so, is it any surprise that I think stories should be the result of inductive reasoning? That my brain thinks stories come from inventing an interesting specific problem and then trying to solve my way out of it? No! It’s just my natural inclination. Trying to tell a story any other way feels wrong to me and slows me down.
If I can speak of “fun” while writing, it has to come from that.
The stories that were the easiest for me to write were the ones where I can just problem solve chapter after chapter. I put a few weird characters in a weird situation, I establish some general rules I can’t break, and then I go from there!
On the other hand, this would absolutely not work for a deductive thinker. They often write a bit more flowery prose, creating these beautiful descriptions, really getting at certain feelings. Their world is incredibly rich, even if the plot itself is more formulaic and by the numbers because of that strict outline.
Well … if you read any of my work, you know that descriptions or flowery prose are practically non-existent in them ;) I’ve been practicing all these things that don’t come natural to me for years, and I get better and create more “well-rounded books”, but I’ll never close the gap completely. And I don’t want to. It would mean writing a story that doesn’t mesh with what my brain thinks a story should be!
Because although both approaches can end up with similar storylines, I do notice I enjoy “architected” stories less. It just feels superficial to me. It’s too “neat” and too “planned”. I’ve seen the exact twists and turns a million times before. The moral message of the story is often extremely obvious and on the nose.
That’s not because those kinds of stories are objectively worse, no, it’s just storytelling preference. Many people turn to stories for familiarity. For entering a world where they feel safe and cozy. For having a story where good always triumphs over bad, because it gives them a nice feeling and it gives them hope. I turn to stories for unpredictable and interesting problems, that are solved in equally wild, awesome or mind-boggling ways.
So I guess that’s the lesson of this article.
- Identify which type of reasoning you like to use while inventing stories. Deductive means “broad > specific”, inductive means “specific > broad”.
- Then make sure your habits, approach and types of stories align with it.
- Inductive reasoning is found most often with (logical) problem solvers. You’ll get the most fun while writing if you simply invent interesting problems and then force yourself to find a way out.
- Deductive reasoning is found most often with intuitive or emotional thinkers. You’ll get the most fun while writing if you start with a feeling you want to evoke, painting the broad strokes of an interesting picture/world/magic system, and then make that feeling more and more detailed and “real” as you write the story.
And if you want your book to reach a wider audience, to be liked by more types of “storytelling brains”, you try to do a bit from the other side during edits. My first drafts are usually all plot and problem solving; in the revision, I add more details and richness, actually hammer home some emotional beats, and realize what general theme I accidentally wrote into the thing.
Hopefully this helps some writers out there. Keep reading and writing,
Tiamo