In the world of creative writing, two opposing camps are often described: the "plotters" and the "discovery writers." While the latter – also called "pantsers" since they write "by the seat of their pants" – begin without detailed planning and discover their story during the writing process, I personally prefer a more structured approach. For me, writing with a well-thought-out outline has so many advantages that I remain loyal to this approach, even though I certainly appreciate the creative flow of discovery writing.
The discussion between plotters and discovery writers is as old as writing itself. George R.R. Martin created the well-known image that there are "gardeners" who let their stories grow organically, and "architects" who draw precise plans before building. Stephen King is a confessed discovery writer, while J.K. Rowling is known for her extensive planning tables.
Within this tension, I've found my own path, which clearly leans toward the structured side. Why? Because I've discovered that my creativity thrives better within a well-defined framework. For me, an outline isn't a corset but a scaffold that provides support and, paradoxically, enables more creative freedom.
Everything begins with a spark – that initial idea that won't let me go. Unlike many discovery writers who start with a vague concept and see where it leads them, I usually have a clear vision of what my story should be and say right from the beginning.
This initial spark can take many forms: a character whose voice I hear in my head; a conflict crying for resolution; a world waiting to be explored; or a question that occupies my mind. Whatever it is – I take time to think through this basic idea, view it from all angles, and explore its potential.
During this phase, I often write loose notes, sketch characters, or create the first rough storylines. I ask myself fundamental questions: What is this story really about? Which themes do I want to explore? What emotional journey should the reader experience? What might the ending look like?
Only when I've found satisfying answers to these questions do I move on to the next step. This clarity gives me the certainty that my idea actually has the potential for a complete story and won't run into the sand after a few chapters.
With a clear vision of the basic idea, I begin to develop a structured synopsis. This involves outlining the plot in broad strokes and identifying the most important turning points.
The synopsis serves as my first reality check: Does the story work as a whole? Is there a meaningful arc of tension? Are the character motivations coherent? Does the story have a satisfying conclusion?
During this phase, I also identify potential weaknesses and problems. Perhaps an important turning point is missing, or a character's motivation doesn't seem convincing. These problems are much easier to fix at the synopsis level than later when hundreds of pages have already been written.
The synopsis remains flexible enough to leave room for discoveries. It's more of a map than a fixed path – it shows me the most important places I need to visit, but not every single step in between.
Now it gets more specific. From the synopsis, I develop a detailed outline that divides the entire story into clearly defined acts. This act structure – whether classic in three acts or in a more complex form – forms the backbone of my story.
In each act, I define the most important key scenes and turning points. I make sure that the plot progresses logically and works toward a clear goal. The outline ensures that the tension curve is right, that there is a comprehensible build-up of conflicts, and that the character development of my protagonists remains coherent.
The transitions between acts are particularly important to me. These threshold points are often the most dramatic and emotional moments in a story and require special attention. In my outline, I clearly mark these points and ensure they are both emotionally satisfying and necessary for the plot progression.
The outline answers an important question for me: Where exactly do I want to go with this story? What is the climax everything is leading up to? And how do I prepare this climax so that it has the maximum emotional impact?
In the final step before the actual writing, I break down the outline into individual chapters. For each chapter, I create "scene beats" – short descriptions of the individual scenes that together form the chapter.
These scene beats are my fine-meshed net that ensures each scene serves a purpose. Each beat should have at least one of these functions: advance the plot, show character development, convey important information, or build the world of the story.
I pay special attention to rhythm. Not every scene can or should be highly dramatic – there also need to be quieter moments for character development, humorous scenes for relaxation, and reflective passages that emphasize the deeper meaning of the story.
The scene beats also give me the opportunity to control the "micro-tension" – those small arcs of tension that pull the reader from page to page. I make sure that each scene ends with a small question or an unresolved problem that makes the reader curious about the next scene.
This four-stage process may seem labor-intensive at first, but it offers me numerous advantages:
Clarity and Focus: I always know what I'm working on and where the journey is going. The story cannot stray from the intended path.
Efficiency Gain: Although planning takes time, I ultimately save time writing and especially in revising. Structural problems are identified and fixed early, before they lead to major revisions.
Overcoming Writer's Block: With a detailed outline, I always know what comes next. If I get stuck at one point, I can jump to another scene and come back later.
Control over Complex Storylines: For stories with multiple plot threads or a large cast of characters, the outline helps me keep track and ensure that all threads are meaningfully interwoven.
Deeper Thematic Work: Through pre-planning, I can work more consciously with the themes of my story and ensure they are consistently developed and not lost sight of.
Despite my love for structure, I'm not a robotic writer slavishly following a plan. The outline is a living document for me that can and should change during the writing process.
If I come up with a better idea than originally planned while writing, or if a character develops in an unexpected direction, I'm open to it. The difference from pure discovery writing is that I consciously integrate these changes into my overall structure and think through their effects on the rest of the story.
This balance between structure and discovery is the ideal middle ground for me. The structure gives me security and direction, while within this framework I have the freedom to be creative and discover new aspects of my story.
Of course, writing with an outline also brings challenges:
The Danger of Over-Planning: Sometimes I lose myself in planning and don't get to the actual writing. A fixed timeframe for the planning phase helps me counter this.
Loss of Spontaneity: Detailed planning can limit the joy of spontaneously discovering new ideas. I therefore try to consciously leave room for improvisation in my outline.
Sticking to the Plan Despite Better Ideas: It can be tempting to stick to the original plan, even when better possibilities arise during writing. I regularly remind myself that the outline is a tool, not my master.
Mechanical Writing: With too detailed planning, the actual writing can sometimes seem mechanical. To counter this, I focus fully on the emotional level of the scene when writing, not just on checking off plot points.
Ultimately, there is no "right" way to write a story. What works for me might be constraining for others – and that's perfectly fine. Through experience, I've learned that my mind can be most creative within a structured framework.
The outline is like the skeleton of a story for me – invisible in the finished work, but crucial for its form and functionality. It gives me the freedom to focus on the nuances of writing – on language, dialogue, atmosphere, and emotional depth – without constantly having to wonder where the story is going next.
With each project, I further refine my process. Sometimes I experiment with more detailed outlines, sometimes with looser ones. I learn from other authors, try new structural models, and adapt my approach to the particular story.
What remains is the conviction that for me personally, writing with an outline is the most effective way to tell stories that are both structurally solid and emotionally satisfying. It's an approach that combines craft and art – systematic enough to ensure progress, but flexible enough to give space to the magic of the creative process.
Whether plotter or discovery writer – in the end, only one thing matters: the finished story that captivates readers. The path there is as individual as the storytellers themselves. Mine leads through structured planning – and I enjoy every step along this path.