WARNING: extended metaphors are ahead.
Also: if you’re new here, hi, hello! How are you? Introduce yourself in the comments! I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the quest! 😊
On to the topic at hand: pantsing and plotting. And why I’m not a fan of either.
There are a lot of metaphors for the writing process, none of them as (in)famous as the terms “plotter” and “pantser”. It’s hard to spend any time in writing circles without bumping into these terms. I don’t think I’m the first to say this, but: I don’t like either of them. They’re limiting. They present a false dichotomy, one of, “either, or”. Like most things in our world, idea generation is a continuum, not a seesaw.
I’ve also seen writers use “pantser” to mean disorganized, and “plotter” to mean meticulous and detail oriented to the point of obsession. Again, false. Creativity is nebulous enough, self-doubt enough of a constant companion in an industry of long shots. Stop putting yourself down because you don’t outline or because your ideas aren’t spontaneous. We all create differently because we all have different experiences, perspectives, and ways of being. Embrace your process (or lack thereof!)
So, I’m rejecting pantsing and plotting. But, writers live on metaphors! So what am I?
I am a Gardener*
I am a gardener, not a pantser. I spend time building my garden box. I plan how large it might be. I decide its shape. I lay the soil and decide which plants I’ll seed first, how I’ll lay them out. Then I start planting. This is all grueling work, before the first sprout has poked through the earth to soak up the sun. But I’m excited. I can’t wait to see what the little seeds become. I water them, and make they’re getting enough sun but not too much. (This is where the metaphor falls apart a little, because writing takes action, not waiting, but go with me.) Eventually the shoots push through the soil. And sometimes it’s not what I expected when I started. Maybe one plant grew faster and stole nutrients from another. Maybe I placed the wrong plants next to them and both withered and died before sprouting.
The point being: I lay a structure for my world, and then I write, and sometimes my ideas grow in wildly different directions as I’m writing than I intended. Some flower, others rot on the vine. I prune what I need to as I go until the garden of my story is full. And once the garden box is overgrown and the story is as complete as I think it can be, I landscape. I might need to re-pot some plot elements to give them more space to grow tall enough to hold their own next to the dominating herbs of the garden. (Is this how plants work? Not *actually* a gardener.)
There is still some method to my madness. I’m not writing by the “seat of my pants.” I’m exploring my ideas on the page. And not everyone works that way. Some writers need a full schematic with room measurements down to the millimeter before they write their first line.
I’d call these writers engineers before I would called them plotters. Why the distinction? Plotter feels mundane to me. Plotters make a list of events. Engineers are concerned with design. They want to know how their story is going to work, at every level: character, structure, plot, theme. They want to build the best story they can, with the tools of their voice and perspective. They’re not ‘just plotting’.
It’s a spectrum, of course. I am more of a gardener than an engineer, but there are elements I must build in detail to gain enough atmosphere to write a scene or story. (See: my love of MAPS.)
And if you love your identity as a ‘pantser’ or ‘plotter’, wave your flag high. There’s just such joy for me in my discovery writing process. Pantser doesn’t capture that: gardener does.
I experienced this recently when I was writing a scene for WIP the sequel. While drafting, I was able to plant the seeds for an arc of the narrative I’d never thought to connect to the moment I was writing. I also generated a narrative for a character I never planned to use in this story. While staying vague (because, you know, work-in-progress, and if I’m incredibly lucky, spoilers) it’s hard to express how exciting this moment was.
I literally jumped up from my laptop and danced around the living room excitedly muttering to myself when I realized what I’d done.
Yeah, kinda like that.
It’s exciting to be a gardener: to watch your hard work flower into colors you weren’t sure would ever break through the topsoil.
It would have been much less satisfying to write an entire article using pants as an extended metaphor, is all I’m really saying.
To all the gardeners, engineers, pansters, and plotters out there, though: grow your gardens lush, and build your skyscrapers tall. Until next time.
– M
*Yessssss I’m aware I didn’t create this term. George R. R. Martin seems to be the first, or at least most famous, writer to specifically use the term gardener. I’ve read GRRM, but I came to the term in a more roundabout way from reading Stephen King’s On Writing and Brent Week’s writing advice columns before I arrived at Martin’s work.