There are essentially two types of writers: plotters and pantsers. Basically plotters are exactly what they sound like. They plot and plan. They have an outline – a clear path. Pantsers on the other hand, write by the seat of their pants (thus the term pantser). Generally, writers are either one or the other, and there is an ongoing debate as to which one is more effective. I won’t go so far as to say better, for that would elevate the issue to new levels.
Do what I say, not what I do
I’m an English teacher – the kind who teaches non-English speakers to speak, read, and write in English. Have you ever thought about how complex the English language really is? I mean seriously – English has got to be the most ridiculous language on the face of the Earth. But I digress… I teach English. That means I teach people to be plotters. Essay writing is a process that requires careful planning, from brainstorming and categorizing to organizing an outline, to filling in the gaps with extra details. I make my students show me each step, because if I leave them to it, and let them pantser their way through, the result is a convoluted meandering of thoughts that has no focus, point, or coherence.
Outlining doesn’t come naturally to me though. I am a pantser, pure and simple. In all honesty, I don’t have an ounce of plotter in me at all. I try. I really do. Brainstorming is fairly easy, but anything after that? Not going to happen. My inner muse is as stubborn as the day is long. If I try to coax her in a specific direction, she’s bound to balk and dig in her heels.
How hard can it be?
So, as I sit each night this week staring at the writing prompt from one of my blogging groups Blogging & A Beverage, a branch of Gin&Lemonade, I come up blank. The theme shouldn’t be difficult. A sepia-toned fall memory… How hard could that be? I mean really, I’ve experienced 45 fall seasons in my life – you’d think I could come up with a single noteworthy memory. Right?
Ummmm… Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
I’m going to go with that one.
Time will tell. This is the very first of our prompted writing projects, after all. In any case, as I sit here facing my third empty coffee cup, I curse you Lorna. You have crushed my creative confidence.
No.
That’s not right.
You’ve angered my pantser demon. Like any self-respecting coward, I must now let it flow unfettered, or face the wrath of inner turmoil.
It’s not you, it’s me
Once again I marvel that for all the feelings the fall evokes, I cannot coax a memory onto the page.
What happens if you give a pantser a writing prompt? Absolutely nothing – which is entirely the opposite of the desired result. I wonder what would happen if the prompt was anything at all…