How Bestselling Science Fiction and Fantasy Authors Outlined Their Novel

This is probably the first plotting method that you ever encountered in school, but just because it’s basic doesn’t mean it isn’t useful. The Three Act Structure is comprised of the setup, the conflict, and the resolution.

The setup introduces the reader to the protagonist and other early characters, lays out other background details, and features the inciting incident. The conflict is when the protagonist faces obstacles and eventually battles the antagonist. The resolution is where the events of the story are wrapped up and we’re left with some takeaway.

For an example of this plot structure, let’s look at Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. The beginning of the book introduces us to Percy and his mom, Sally. Percy is a twelve-year-old boy with ADHD and Dyslexia who has been kicked out of several schools. But after Percy’s math teacher transforms into a monster and attacks him, he realizes he is not a normal kid. He’s a demi-god. The middle of the book features Percy’s journey to Camp Half Blood, the kidnapping of his mother, and his quest for Zeus’ lightning bolt. The ending has the characters find the lightning bolt and return as heroes.

This structure is so simple as to be useful to everyone but for people looking for more structure, other outlines might better fit their needs.

Save the Cat, a framework invented by Blake Snyder, takes the Three Act Structure and extrapolates it into more distinct beats. It takes its name from a stereotypically heroic act, someone saving a cat (who doesn’t love cats)? There are 15 steps of Save the Cat, which we will explore using Suzanne Collin’s Hunger Games. Many of the steps speak for themselves but for unfamiliar names, I’ll specify what’s going on.

1. Opening Image. Katniss wakes up on the day of the reaping. 
2. State the theme. Gale suggests that him and Katniss could escape into the woods together, introducing the rebellious spirit that flows through the rest of the story.
3. Set-Up. We learn more about Katniss, her family, District 12, and the world of Panem.
4. Catalyst. An event sets the story in motion. In this case, Prim’s name is chosen for the Hunger Games.
5. Debate. The protagonist considers whether to take up a challenge. In this case, Katniss is deciding whether she should volunteer to take Prim’s place in the games and…
6. Take up Challenge. Katniss volunteers as tribute.
7. B Plot. This is a side plot for the story. In this case, Peeta’s name is also chosen, and he and Katniss have a history, setting up a potential romance.
8. Fun and Games. The name of this step is a little misleading. It’s really about setting up the premise for the main story. In this case, that means Katniss and Peeta going to the Capitol, meeting the other tributes, and preparing for the games.
9. Midpoint. In initial scouting for the games, Katniss scores especially high, making her a target.
10. Bad Guys Close In. Katniss is pursued by some of the more well-established tributes, including Peeta?
11. All is Lost. Katniss is gravely injured and seemingly left for dead.
12. Dark Night of the Soul. This step describes when the protagonist experiences some sort of great tragedy that leads to them assessing themselves and their circumstances. In The Hunger Games, Rue is killed. Katniss memorializes her and reflects on Capitol’s cruelty.
13. Start of Act III. An announcement is made that there can be two winners if they are from the same district.
14. Finale. The previous announcement is cancelled. Katniss and Peeta fake taking poisonous berries and are declared co-winners of the Hunger Games.
15. Final image. Katniss and Peeta return holding hands to District 12 and are greeted as heroes.

Save the cat is a wonderful structure, especially for amateur novelists, but some might feel that steps are a little too prescriptive. Next, we’ll look at a structure that is more organic.

Invented by astrophysicist and sci-fi author Randy Ingermanson, the Snowflake Method is named for the fractal shape of a snowflake, where the repetition of a simple pattern yields complexity and beauty.

Here’s how it progresses. Write a one-sentence summary. Once that is done, write a one-paragraph summary. Then, write a one-sentence summary for all the main characters. Then, a one-page profile of all the main characters. Next, identify the key scenes and do a one sentence summary for each. Finally, write a full synopsis (maybe 4-5 pages) that encompasses the entire story.

This method is nice in that it takes the spontaneity of pantsers and applies it to the outline process rather than the drafting process. It also does the invaluable job of helping authors break through that blank page problem I talked about earlier. You don’t need to write a whole book. You need to start with one sentence.

Ingermanson also says that, if you want, the method could work in reverse. He says, “I think seat-of-the-pants writers can really benefit from using the Snowflake Method during the revision process. Once the story is written, it might feel unstructured, and that's where the Snowflake steps can help. They can guide you in reshaping and tightening the story.”

This is an example of a reverse outline, a strategy we’ll discuss further in the next section.

Pantsers are devil-may-care dabblers who believe that outlining in some way stifles their creative process. They take on the blank page by… just doing it. But just because you’re a pantser doesn’t mean your process is totally unstructured. There are still plenty of ways for pantsers to feel supported in their writing journey. And plotters, feel free to use these too! 

The great Stephen King remarked, “I have a routine because I think that writing is self-hypnosis and you fall into kind of a trance if you do the same passes over and over.” Arguably the easiest way to do this is a word count. This metric keeps writers accountable but also feels manageable. For King, that watermark was 2,000 words, although he says his output has now settled closer to 1,000. 

But he clarifies that while he is writing, nothing else exists to him except for the world he is writing about. In his words, “20 hours a day, I live in the same reality that everybody else lives in. But for four hours a day, things change.”

Famous writers are all over the map in terms of the word counts they used. When Terry Pratchett was just starting out, he wrote only 400 or so words a day while he had a day job. Meanwhile, in periods of intense drafting, Michael Crichton would write as many as 10,000 words.

Daily word counts should vary drastically based on how much free time you have and your overall process. For me, 800 words a day was the sweet spot. Play around with different numbers and see what feels right. But once you have a number, it might be worthwhile to hold yourself to it.

Writers, and especially pantsers, aren’t necessarily the most structured folks, but setting aside a particular time to write can be incredibly beneficial. This could look different from different people’s process. Ursula K. Le Guin famously outlined her daily schedule:

• 5:30 a.m. Wake up and lie there and think.
• 6:15 a.m. Get up and eat breakfast (lots).
• 7:15 a.m. Get to work writing, writing, writing.
• Noon. Lunch.
• 1:00—3:00 p.m. Reading, music.
• 3:00—5:00 p.m. Correspondence, maybe house cleaning.
• 5:00—8:00 p.m. Make dinner and eat it.
• After 8:00 p.m. I tend to be very stupid and we won't talk about this.

As hilarious and relatable as this is, the most important takeaway is that tidy little block of time from 7:15 to noon. A defined writing time can be a Godsend. That being said, you don’t need to write for five hours. If you have three hours to spare, that’s still fantastic. Two hours is great. So is one. Even 30 minutes or 15 minutes of a daily writing practice can set you up for success.

And that time doesn’t have to be in the morning. I, for example, prefer to write at night. For others, the afternoon is best. The important thing is that, for whatever time you set aside, that time should be sacred. Allow yourself to write (or stare at a blank page) for whatever time is yours.

For some, the biggest obstacle is starting to write but rather, thinking about the finish line. Their first draft needs to be beautiful, or even perfect. Well unfortunately, or maybe fortunately depending on how you look at it, first drafts are usually deeply flawed, and they are never perfect. Published authors even joke that they almost always find typos in their already-released manuscripts. Novels are enormous blocks of text, and they will need a lot of attention, certainly more than one draft. 

Ray Bradbury said it best in his acclaimed Zen in the Art of Writing, “This afternoon, burn down the house. Tomorrow, pour critical water upon the simmering coals. Time enough to think and cut and rewrite tomorrow. But today-explode-fly-apart-disintegrate!” Bradbury’s philosophy should be a relief to pantsers everywhere. According to him, the first draft should be a joyful, chaotic thing, and later drafts are where the difficult work is done.

Bradbury was also a proponent of unselfconscious writing. He believed that over-thinking during the process made the result feel contrived. Perhaps trying hard to write well is like trying hard to go to sleep. Results come from soft focus, not brute force.

 In short, don’t be afraid of a first draft that’s a little rough-around-the-edges. 

Not all authors benefit from a slow-and-steady approach. Some writers lean into the messiness of a first draft and produce scenes and chapters in something called “drafting sprints.” In these sprints, authors will turn out a significant work product in weeks, sometimes even completing a full draft in that time.

Sarah J. Maas doesn’t get enough credit for how prolific she really is. She is one of the only authors ever to have three concurrent book series on the New York Times bestseller list. And while she writes daily, a lot of her output can be attributed to these sprints.

Now, of course, not all of us have the luxury of being able to indulge in these sprints. They require total focus on the book, often meaning that a partner or a friend has to pick up slack. This sprint also seems to require not having a full-time job or at the very least, a generous amount of PTO. 

But even for those of us that can’t truly do a writing binge, we can still learn from how Maas immerses herself in the world of her characters. For example, Maas has to listen so music while drafting, even saying, “I have to have music on when writing, or else the silence swallows me whole.” In fact, Maas will actually create a playlist and listen to exclusively that playlist for each project, so her books have a cohesive emotional feel. Now that’s commitment! 

And these sprints don’t need to be weeks long. We can do our own miniature sprints whenever we have a little free time.

So, you’ve finished a draft? Congratulations! But now, you’re left with a draft full of snags, typos, and major plot holes. What are you to do? If only you had used an outline before you started drafting unless… you made one now. 

A reverse outline goes back through a completed draft and traces the big picture of the plot and characters chapter by chapter. This strategy is incredibly helpful for creating cohesion while still letting pantsers have their fun.

Chelsea Abdullah describes how a reverse outline helped her with The Stardust Thief saying, “When I finished the first draft of The Stardust Thief, it was 297k words. I was terrified to jump into edits knowing so much would have to be cut, and that’s where a reverse outline really helped me. With it, I was able to cut my story down from 297k words to 143k. And then, after multiple rounds of beta reader feedback, I got it to 122k.” 

She further describes reverse outlines saying they are typically composed of chapter headings, a  comprehensive list of scenes, and a “key” that the author can refer to throughout the writing process. This key include the big-picture revision points that Abdullah will take into her second draft, and only after she addresses these concerns will she send her novel out to beta readers.

Sometimes, things just make more sense looking back than looking forward.

I hate to give such an unsatisfactory answer but the only way to figure out what works for you in the writing process is to write and to experiment with different ways of writing. For some, an outline can be a source of support and perhaps, inspiration. One thing is for sure: Plotters, once they finish their outlines, tend to write more quickly than pantsers. I mean it makes sense. They have a plan, and for the most part, they can stick to the plan and just focus on the writing instead of the ideation. 

A lot of people feel that the whole joy of writing is discovering an idea rather than executing on a pre-set goal. 

But the truth of the matter is, no one is a pure plotter or a pure pantser. Plotters at some level are making things up as they go, and pantsers always have at least a vague idea of what they’re going to write before they write it. 

In fact, there is third category called a “plantser.”  Plantsers are hybrids who engage in light plotting while still leaving a lot of their story to discovery.

Let’s discuss two more strategies that, in my opinion, sit somewhere between concrete expectation and improvisation.

Brandon Sanderson, who must would describe as a plotter, uses a very plantser-esque strategy. The floating outline refers to an author making an outline as they are drafting. The idea is that the writer has a rough idea of the big picture outlook of the book while still giving themselves room for exploration.

Sanderson places writers into two camps: one-drafters and multi-drafters. According to his writing philosophy, multi-drafters are those who take multiple highly distinct drafts to make a workable product while one-drafters make their first draft a more polished version that will much more closely resemble the final product. Sanderson identifies himself as a one-drafter thanks to his use of the floating outline.

Sanderson says the notes he makes to themselves are “reminders, or sometimes instructions, rather than explanations.”

Sanderson's floating outline might look something like this:

Part 1

• Hero lives in New York City
• New York City is attacked by aliens
• Hero is invited to join anti-alien task force

The point isn’t to have a firm grip of the story but rather to keep tabs on the story’s events to avoid inconsistencies. The other point of this method is that it doesn’t need to make sense to a third-party reader. Instead, it just needs to make sense for you. So, feel free to make these notes look as nonsensical as you want. That’s the beauty of a floating outline.

This method is named after how Godzilla grows, starting from a little monster and rapidly expanding into a Tokyo-level threat. In this case, the method refers to writing a short story first and then having that short story be the basis for a book-length piece.

Patrick Rothfuss started Name of the Wind with just a single scene before that grew into a book and then eventually, a series. Daniel Keyes Flowers for Algernon began as a short story before it was later published as a novel.

This is another method where the writer gets the pleasure of discovering for themselves but in doing so, they indirectly provide a framework for the book. This is, I’m sure, a method a lot of writers have undertaken unintentionally when they found that their short story was begging for expansion. This just goes to show how writers can write themselves into the right answer.

So, in writing this article, there is an obvious implication. Am I a plotter or a pantser? Which of these strategies do I actually use? I’d consider myself more of a pantser. I do find a sense of euphoria in discovery. But I’m also the sort of person that needs structure. Here’s my exact process:

• I write at least 800 words every day. I settled on this oddly specific number after repeated attempts.
• I write at my desk at home and listen to music, preferably instrumental music. I have to be alone.
• When I have the time, I do weekend “writing sprints,” where I aim for 4000-5000 words.
• My stories often Godzilla into longer pieces. Or sometimes, my novels reverse-Godzilla into short stories.
• I obsessively use reverse outlines and floating outlines. I have a dry erase board at my apartment that looks like that one scene from A Beautiful Mind. 

I break down my own process to illustrate that each person’s process is going to be totally unique to their habits, lifestyle, and preferences. At the end of the day, a writing process can be more mystical than logical. For me, the important thing about my writing routine is to forget that I’m writing and to lose myself in a story’s voice and atmosphere—to engage in the hypnosis that Stephen King talked about, to happily burn up in Ray Bradbury’s house. Then, I use outlines to make sure the story makes sense.

I encourage you to explore different options. That blank page might be intimidating, but there are few feelings greater than finishing a first draft.