To quote my old buddy, Hamlet,
“To outline, or not to outline, that is the question.”
Okay, maybe those weren’t quite
the words he used, but it’s still one heck of an important question. It’s also
one that seems to take up way too much time for people interested in writing.
The answer is actually fairly simple: if outlining works for you, do it. If it
doesn’t, don’t. That’s such a simple answer to a complex question, let’s backup
and examine things a bit.
When I was in grammar school my
teachers stressed the importance of organizing one’s thoughts by using an
outline replete with Roman numerals, letters of the alphabet, and numbers. Once
I got the hand of it, I kind of liked the process. It was sort of like the
roadmaps we followed driving down to Florida on family vacations. Everything was
laid out there in front of us, and we could see where we were and how far we
had to go.
Fast forward to high school and
college, where those inevitable weeks would always pop up in which I’d either
have a paper due or a test in every class. Using that old outline format
allowed me to organize my thoughts and write those papers in succinct fashion.
When it came to my creative writing classes, however, the professor was less
exacting. While I still had a midterm deadline, the structure of how to proceed
was left to the individual student. The instructor was pretty laid back and
didn’t give us many suggestions on how to write a story. He just said, “Write
one and turn it in. I’ll get back to you.” In the meantime we read and
discussed short stories by other authors such as Graham Greene, Henry James,
and James Joyce. Most of the other students in the class didn’t fare well,
struggling to write that great work of fiction that would be significant in the
greater scheme of things. I, on the other hand, concentrated on a smaller
scale, writing slice-of-life stories that were loosely based on my own
experiences. For whatever reason, I didn’t outline. I just sat down and wrote
that first sentence. The rest would just flow.
For the record, I admit that I
enjoyed the freedom of sitting down and seeing where the muse led me. “No
surprise in the writer, no surprise for the reader,” Robert Frost once said. At
the time, he seemed to be talking to me. But I should have realized that Frost,
while extremely talented, was at his best as a poet, not as a prose writer. I
began to run into problems following that elusive muse. Many times she would lead
me down the garden path only to giggle and slip away, leaving me with the
realization that I had several pages of writing that went exactly nowhere.
Other times I’d discover, after I’d written about eight to ten pages that my
story actually stated on page nine, and I’d have to toss out the preceding
eight.
Now this is fine, if you have all
the time in the world, but I didn’t. I still don’t. That’s why over the years
I’ve become a strong advocate of outlining. I get the basic idea for a story
and begin thinking about it. Sometimes scenes and snippets of dialogue will
come to me out of the blue. (These usually happen when I’m on one of my long
runs, and I rush to write them down when I get back home. The only problem with
this is that paper tends to get a bit soggy after a four or five mile run.) I write
the story in my head, recording notes as I need to, and then eventually sit
down and outline the entire story.
The beautiful thing about an
outline is you can make as many changes to it as you want. I often liken it to
the road map metaphor. If I were driving from Chicago to Las Vegas, the first
thing I’d do would be to get a road map and chart out the route. Once I had a
good idea of where I was going, and how I wanted to get there, I’d start
driving. But this road map, like the outline, need not be chiseled in stone. If
I were driving through Missouri, and passed a sign advertising Mark Twain’s
cave at the next exit, I would feel totally comfortable changing my plan and
taking this detour. You can do the same with your novel or short story outline.
I usually go through at least three or four outlines during the writing of a
book.
Now there are those authors who
don’t like outlining at all. They like the thrill of sitting down to surprise
themselves with the plot developments. Some say they let “the characters tell
the tale.” This is fine, although I could easily make a case that these
individuals are actually following a cognitive outline of some sort. And I
would also venture to say that the tendency to write one’s self into a corner
is much more likely if you write in this manner. It also requires a much more
thorough revision. Again, do you have the time to waste?
When writing a mystery or thriller
it’s imperative to play fair with the reader. You have to put in enough clues
or foreshadowing so that dynamic developments that occur in the climax don’t
seem like the old magician’s trick of pulling a rabbit out of his hat. All of
us of a certain age know how that worked out for Bullwinkle. (“Nothing up my
sleeve…”) An outline is the perfect tool to know what to put in and where to
put it. It’ll also let you know what to leave out, and why. Best of all, when
it’s complete an outline will give you a good idea of the pacing of your story.
The slow spots are easy to spot. And if you need to write a synopsis, your
outline has it all laid out for you.
With all these advantages, I find
it amazing that some writers are so much against outlining. “It stifles your
creativity,” one of my professors said to me in grad school. How does something
you’re creating stifle creativity? It’s merely an abbreviated version of your
story awaiting the fleshing out. I’ve written books and stories both ways—with
and without outlines, and the best ones were those in which I followed a good,
strong outline.
Lest I continue to belabor the
obvious, I’ll end with a simple question: if you were having your dream house
built, would you want the construction crew to have a solid set of blueprints,
or just show up every day with their hammers, saws, and nails and say they were
going to see where things took them?