Plotter vs. Pantser:
Why Not Both?

Are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you love the thrill of writing without a net, or do you prefer implementing your carefully plotted plan to reach your destination? Which approach works best for memoir writers?

Why not reap the benefits from both approaches?

It’s fascinating to peek behind the curtain of our favorite writers’ processes. You might read a gorgeous memoir and wonder how the author achieved such emotional depth and narrative power. Could following their approach yield similar results? The answer might surprise you—the most successful memoir writers often blend both plotter and pantser techniques.

The Organized Plotter

Plotters work from an outline or framework. For beginning memoir writers, I recommend starting with a timeline. Creating a timeline can invigorate your recall muscle and bring long-buried memories to the surface. It helps to remember events in order, clearing up any confusion about what happened and when. This process provides the honesty and perspective necessary to write about your life in a truthful and meaningful way. While your finished memoir may not unfold chronologically, having that framework will prove invaluable as you write.

JK Rowling famously plots her intricate novels using a hand-drawn grid called a book map. For the author of one of the longest sagas ever written, having a roadmap keeps all the threads together and provides a visual guide for the story’s progression.

“I always have a basic plot outline, but I like to leave some things to be decided while I write.” — J. K. Rowling

Notice how even this famous plotter leaves room for discovery? That’s our first hint that the categories aren’t as rigid as they seem.

The Fearless Pantser

A pantser “writes by the seat of their pants.” Stephen King, perhaps the most famous pantser, champions this approach. His ability to write whatever comes to mind could explain his prolific output. He gets an intriguing idea, sits down, and begins to write.

“Some writers are plotters... I, on the other hand, have the curse and rabid delight of being a pantser. I sit down at my computer every day, praying for a lightning strike. Common symptoms include pacing, an abnormally clean house, frantic cups of joe, and middle-of-the-night writing breakdowns.”— Stephen King

Pantsers believe this style allows greater freedom and improvisation, giving their writing life and sparkle. The excitement of discovery can lead in unexpected directions. For fiction writers, characters begin to speak to the author, charting the novel’s path. For memoir writers, memories connect in surprising ways, revealing patterns and meanings that conscious planning might have missed.

“When I’m writing a novel, what comes first is an image, scene, or voice. Something fairly small... The structure or design gets worked out in the course of the writing. I couldn’t write the other way round, with structure first. It would be too much like paint-by-numbers.” — Margaret Atwood

Mary Karr, acclaimed memoirist and author of The Liars’ Club, describes a similar process: “I don’t write about what I know. I write to find out what I know.” This pantser approach to memoir allows the truth to emerge through the act of writing itself.

The Positives of Both Approaches

The pantsers I’ve worked with are confident writers who write quickly and easily. Words seem to flow from them as they follow their muse. They can produce pages upon pages in short periods. If you’ve seen Amadeus, it’s as though their stories are divinely dictated, and they merely transcribe them. As a natural plotter, I envy them as much as Salieri envied Mozart.

Yet, plotters have created some of the most beloved books ever written. Maya Angelou, who wrote the groundbreaking memoir I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, was known for her methodical approach. She rented a hotel room stripped of all distractions and arrived each morning with legal pads, a thesaurus, and the Bible, working from detailed notes she had prepared.

Most writers naturally prefer one approach over the other. As an editor and writer, I would never discourage anyone from a creative style that feels authentic and produces results. However, I’ve discovered that adopting the best of both worlds can help writers avoid the pitfalls of each approach while multiplying their strengths.

Learning from Each Other

Plotters are sometimes labeled rigid or boring—unfairly so. But plotters can benefit from embracing spontaneity. Allow room for improvisation. Be willing to abandon your outline when a better idea emerges. This spirit of openness can make the writing process feel like an adventure. When inspiration strikes, follow it down unexpected paths. Write scenes that may not make the final draft. Experiment with different perspectives on the same memory.

Pantsers, on the other hand, rely on their muse showing up. They’re more susceptible to writer’s block or procrastination when inspiration doesn’t strike. Working from even a loose outline can save a writer from the dreaded Second Act Wall. An outline can let you write in a non-linear way, helping you to see further down the road of your story. Most importantly, a simple outline helps you evaluate whether your story has legs. Is the story enough to sustain a full memoir, or would it work better as a personal essay? Better to discover this after some planning than after writing 70 pages.

Structure Comes for Us All

Here’s what both camps must acknowledge: structure is inescapable. Whether you develop it during the outline phase or after the first draft, you can’t skip this step if you want to produce quality work. Even Stephen King knows that eventually every writer has to pay the piper:

“When you write a story, you’re telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story.” — Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

For memoir writers, this truth is especially important. Life doesn’t naturally follow a three-act structure. Whether you’re a plotter who maps every chapter or a pantser who discovers the shape through writing, you’ll eventually need to craft your experiences into a coherent narrative.

Finding Your Balance

The sweet spot for most memoir writers lies somewhere between rigid plotting and complete improvisation. Consider these approaches:

If you’re a natural plotter: Schedule regular “discovery sessions” where you write without consulting your outline. Let yourself explore tangential memories. You might uncover details that add richness to your planned narrative.

If you’re a natural pantser: After each writing session, spend five minutes jotting down what themes or patterns emerged. Over time, these notes will reveal your memoir’s natural structure, making revision less daunting.

Both types of writers can benefit from what I call “milestone mapping”—identifying 5-7 key moments in your story without planning every detail between them. This gives pantsers enough structure to maintain direction while allowing plotters room to discover and explore.

Your Path Forward

Whether you’re drawn to careful planning or spontaneous discovery, remember that writing a memoir is both an art and a craft. The most compelling memoirs combine the plotter’s structural integrity with the pantser’s emotional authenticity.

Your process might look different from your favorite memoirist’s approach, and that’s perfectly fine. What matters is finding a method that helps you tell your story truthfully and compellingly. Working with a professional editor or book coach at some stage can help shape and sharpen your narrative. For the plotter, you can troubleshoot at the outline stage; for the pantser, the first draft will be the raw ingredients for further improvement.

The goal isn’t to force yourself into a category but to understand both approaches well enough to borrow what serves your story. After all, your life doesn’t fit neatly into a box—why should your writing process?