Pantsing

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Pantsing refers to a style of writing whereas one makes the story up as they go along. It’s part of the trinity of methods, the other two of which are planning and plantsing. Planning the story is just what it sounds like — from using an outline of each chapter to setting up scenes and documented world-building. Plantsing is somewhere between the chaos of making it up spontaneously and organizing everything.

Normally I am a plantser — I have “note cards” (a feature on Scrivener, the program I recommend for writing novels) for each chapter denoting what should happen in the chapter, and I see where those directions and the characters take me. But this time around, I have diverged from the note cards enough that I am most definitely pantsing.

For example, I was writing about how my characters in their collective (think commune, sort of) were going to cope with the potential for communications and shipping breakdown in the oncoming breakdown of American society, and I thought about replacement parts and fuel for the farm. While I was in the middle of writing that, I thought, “Oh my god, what are they going to do about the staple goods they don’t grow themselves?” The collective eats a certain amount of bread, for example, but they don’t raise the wheat themselves because only the wrong type of wheat grows in the Midwest. In addition, they’re vegetarian and bought rather than grew their legumes. They use their farm land for more suitable items for the collective, like fresh fruits and vegetables, as they could always buy the staples through the local food co-op. So they suddenly figured out they could have a food crisis. In striving to be self-sufficient, they blinded themselves to the fact that they were not self-sufficient, any more than other humans. They discovered this at the same point where I thought about it, of course.

I may edit this later, putting the food crisis before the capital goods crisis chronologically. But I may not, because if it occurred to me in that order, maybe it would have occurred to them in that order. Maybe the capital goods crisis they envisioned was the one the collective saw most clearly* and therefore first. Part of the process of pantsing is the harder job of editing down the line.

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It’s been a wild ride writing this novel so far. I feel like I’m climbing a rock wall without a belayer. If I felt a lot better about my rock climbing skills, I would not feel like I needed belaying.** Ah, well. See you at the edit.


* This is known in cognitive psychology as the availability heuristic, whereas we believe the most readily imagined scenario is the most likely or important one. This heuristic is why young people buy life insurance and not disability insurance despite being 7 times more likely to die than to become disabled.

** I just about used the word ‘balayage’ here, which is a hair-dyeing technique. Oops.

Twelve Years of Writing

I’ve been writing for twelve years. I started, strangely, three months after being diagnosed with bipolar 2, which I hadn’t realized till today. I know I didn’t start writing as a coping mechanism or as character insertion (my first characters were not me) and I didn’t write about being bipolar. I think I started writing because being treated for bipolar helped me focus on continuous tasks instead of pouring all my energy on the whim of the moment.

I was not a good writer at first — I wrote each chapter as if they were separate episodes, like short stories strung together. I didn’t feel like I wrote an overarching plot. The novels (I use the term loosely) I wrote then I have had to revise several times such that only the characters are the same. I learned a lot from revising them.

Things I have learned over the past few years:

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  • My first draft is not my novel. Over the years, the novels have needed less and less rewriting, but there are always things to fix in second and third (and fourth, and …) drafts.
  • Developmental editors are an important part of your writing toolbox. It is worth paying for them.
  • There are three ways to write a novel: Plotting, pantsing, and plantsing.
    • Plotting: an organized outline at the beginning, and following the outline.
    • Pantsing: writing it as one goes along, without the outline.
    • Plantsing: writing with a rough outline but pantsing through the chapters.
    • I am a plantser.
  • Scrivener is a great program for composing my work, especially plantsing.
    • Scrivener arranges itself around a chapter format and a synopsis form that I use to guide my chapters. I use it like pantsing with training wheels.
    • One can get templates for Scrivener novel-writing that incorporate plotting frameworks, such as Save the Cat and Romancing the Plot.
  • ProWritingAid was another investment I don’t regret — my grammar has improved in ways I hadn’t considered before. I have lessened my passive verb structure massively.
  • Writing is the easy and fun part. I still don’t think I have the hang of promotion (and this blog is part of my proof of that.)
  • My favorite novel is always the one I just finished.

The most important thing I learned? That I can write. The second? That there’s a whole lot of luck in being discovered, and luck hasn’t come to me quite yet.

I feel like I could have learned more in 12 years, and maybe I have, but these are the biggest things I can think of. I hope they’re helpful to someone!

Make time

I need to start writing today!

I’ve spent the last couple of days prepping and planting in the garden (there will be more to come) and not touching the edit of Apocalypse. But I’m close to done with the beginning part, which is the part I had to add to the manuscript. I don’t know if rewriting the second part with its many faults (point of view confusion, dragging plot places) is going to be easier or harder.

I’m going on a writing retreat tomorrow afternoon through Thursday morning at Mozingo Lake. That will get me away from the many distractions here (including cats, which my husband will take care of before joining me). 

I suppose the break was good for me, although I feel like if I don’t write today, I’ll find something else to do like making plant labels. Or shopping for more plants — stop it! 

I still have to make myself a routine so I don’t spend the summer surfing. I’m going to have a TA to help me organize classes, so I need time for that. And my summer class next week …

I’m obviously an extrovert, because I’m thinking with my mouth open — or, more accurately, while typing. But there’s an important lesson here for writers: Make time.