Discovering a New Writing Identity

Legend has it, there are two kinds of writers.

The first type is the plotter.

The plotter plots out the whole novel before writing it. They draw story arcs, write three-act structures, and create intricate outlines complete with roman numerals, lower-case letters, and proper indenting. They know the beginning, middle, end, and every twist in between before ever typing the first sentence. (Note: This is probably only somewhat true. I don’t really know because I’m not a plotter.) The point is, they plan out the story first, which sounds really smart and adult and responsible. I kind of wish my brain worked that way.

The other type of writer is… [deleted]. (We’ll come back to the name in a minute.)

This writer gets an idea, starts writing, and discovers the story as they go. They may have a general concept of the work or a big picture theme or an inkling of how they want things to end, but they figure out the twists and turns as they write rather than planning beforehand. This is what I do. My ideas usually start with a character, a setting, a voice, or even just a first sentence. I start writing, letting the characters’ actions and dialogue lead me. It’s only when I’m well into the story and beginning to feel stuck that I stop and “outline” (usually not formally) the next steps.

I like this method. I enjoy jumping into a story idea and seeing where it goes. It’s fun and freeing, and it works for me. What I don’t like about it is the name. It’s called… *shudder*… pantsing.

In the world of writers, there are plotters and there are pantsers. Plotters plot out what they’re going to write, while pantsers write by the seat of their pants. I don’t know who came up with this name, but I can assure you it wasn’t a pantser.

Problems with the Term “Pantser”:

1. It’s demeaning.

“Flying by the seat of your pants” is not a well-respected quality in most professions. You don’t want a financial investor who flies by the seat of his pants or a surgeon who decides she’s just going to “wing it.” I’m a serious writer, and I want a label that acknowledges that.

2. It’s inaccurate.

At the risk of shocking my readers, I would like to point out that pants are not required for novel writing. I have written many great chapters sans pants. And what kind of pants are we talking about? I am currently a sweat-pantser, but I’m often a pajama-pantser. Sometimes I’ve even a skirter.

3. It invokes bad memories.

I taught middle school for almost twenty years. In that setting, “pantsing” referred to boys trying to pull each other’s pants down in the hallways between classes. I’d rather not have my creative processes connected to that behavior, thank you very much.

4. It just sounds dumb.

Plotter is a real word recognized by my computer. “Pantser” and “pantsing” get squiggly red underlines every time I type them, which annoys me.

Identity Crisis Resolved

Luckily, I have good news for all the writers out there hiding under the covers from this lackluster label. I’ve noticed a new descriptor popping up for those of us who don’t outline our books beforehand: Discovery Writer.

Doesn’t that have a lovely ring to it? “Discovery writer” is a respectable term that accurately portrays my writing style while not reminding me of impulsive middle schoolers. And it’s recognized by Microsoft Word. What more could I ask for in a writing identity?

I’m proud to call myself a discovery writer.

Discovery writing is not perfect. Sometimes we discover that we’re lost. Sometimes we discover that what we’ve written is crap and needs to be thrown out. Sometimes we discover cat videos on Facebook instead of our writing goals. What I actually sat down to write today was the final chapter of my middle grade novel. Instead, I discovered that I wanted to write this. Perhaps if I had plotted out my story before beginning, I would have stayed on task. On the other hand, discovery writing has gotten me all the way to the end of my book, so I must be doing something write. (<– That was an accidental typo, but I’m leaving it. 😊)

4 Things I’m Thankful For

1. Being Surrounded by Animals

I’ve always loved animals. When I was a kid, I was that weird student who wanted to share with the class (and/or anyone who would listen or was trapped in a car or school bus with me) how many pets I had and what all of their names were. When I played MASH (the fortune-telling game that revealed who you would marry and other important aspects of your future life such as what kind of car you’d drive) I always included a section for pets and listed exactly how many animals I would own, down to every last horse and fish.

Not much has changed. I don’t have any horses or fish, but I still love animals and am grateful that my life includes so many for me to snuggle and visit and observe and help. I have a sweet old dog sleeping behind me right now and a silly young cat currently running from window to window chirping at something outside, probably the two outdoor cats I take care of or one of our many squirrels. My family members have cats and dogs and kittens I get to visit and play with, and our yard is home to opossums and raccoons and rabbits and gray foxes.

Here’s a 5-minute video of some of the critters who visit our property. It includes fox zoomies.

Now that I’ve started volunteering with the North Texas Wildlife Center, I’ve had the privilege of enjoying some up-close encounters with local wildlife, like feeding baby squirrels, bathing baby opossums, and administering medicine to injured armadillos. I’m thankful to be a part of this organization full of hard-working, big-hearted people doing their best to rescue and rehabilitate wounded and orphaned wildlife.

Interacting with animals fuels my soul. I’m so grateful that I have so many fur babies in my life to love.

Visit https://ntxwildlife.org/ to make a donation!

2. Easy Access to Fresh Air

Along with my passion for animals comes a general love of nature. Although I’m not a rock-climber or a hard-core camper, I love going on hikes and taking walks and just being outside looking at the sky or taking a few deep breaths or reading a book. I was well into adulthood before I understood just how important outside time is to my mental health. I need windows, but I also need a quick escape to the other side of the window. I recently stayed in a ninth-floor hotel room, and it bothered me that I couldn’t test the weather without walking down a hall, taking an elevator, and crossing a lobby. Checking the temperature on my phone just isn’t the same thing. I’m grateful to live in a place where I can pop outside any time I want. In fact, I think I’ll do that now…

I’m back inside now, but I need to wrap up this post because that porch swing is calling my name.

3. My Love of Books

This is not the same thing as being thankful for books, although I am. I’m thankful that I love books. Some people love shoes or jewelry or fancy electronics or cars or designer purses. My favorite things to buy are books. I’m glad that when I splurge on something, it’s because I’ve spent $25 on a hardback book. When I give into an impulse buy, I support an author. When I put “just one more” item in my cart, it means I’m bringing more words into my home, to enjoy and appreciate and keep or pass on to someone else when I’m done.

I could have a hobby that’s unhealthy or a collection that drains my bank account or a craving for something I could never afford. I’m thankful that my heart wants to indulge in stories instead.

Time and money well-spent in my opinion.

4. The Wait

I can be a very impatient person, but when it comes to submitting writing for publication, I appreciate the wait. There’s a lot of instant gratification in the world today. 24/7 headlines, same-day delivery, popular word games that take a fraction of the time of doing a crossword. Think of a question, Google the answer. But sometimes that quick gratification isn’t so gratifying. Such fast results leave us with a lot of time on our hands. What do we do with it? Ask more things, look up more answers, flood our brains with more information than we can handle. Humans were meant to wonder. These days our wonder often gets wasted.

Unless you’re a writer.

The publishing world still moves slowly, leaving time—sometimes a lot of it—between the question and the answer. I kind of like it. The wait gives me time to wonder, to imagine getting accepted, to picture winning a prize, to visualize receiving a rejection, or simply to forget about it completely until a surprise response arrives in my inbox. Whether the result is good news or bad, sometimes it’s nice not to know immediately.

I’ve had a bit of both outcomes recently. I submitted a story to a flash fiction contest in July and waited, wondering, until September when I learned it had reached the final round of judging. Then I waited and wondered some more until I found it did not end up placing in the contest. That’s ok. By then, I’d already noticed ways I could make the story better, and it felt nice knowing my words had made it so far.

Also in July, I submitted several poems to the Poetry Society of Texas’s annual contests. That wait was a bit longer, giving me time to speculate about which ones might catch the judge’s eye, time to feel confident, then insecure, then back again. In November, PST awarded me with three first place prizes. My poems “Blues,” “Reading Poetry During a Thunderstorm,” and “Did I Miss Anything?” received cash prizes and will all be published next year. I was thrilled to hear this news, but it was definitely much more rewarding due to the wait.

I vastly prefer reasonable waits to extremely long waits. Waits where you know when the wait will be over are the best waits.

* * *

There is so much more I’m thankful for, but these are the ones I want to share today. I wish all my readers a happy, healthy, relaxing week spent surrounded by the people, animals, or things you love. What are four things you’re thankful for this year?

Growing Faces: A Creepy Autumn Poem

Ever since I was a kid, one my favorite Halloween decorations at my parents’ house has also been one of the most simple. Every year, my mom hangs “the witch’s laundry” on their clothesline. Black dresses and old Halloween costumes and a witch hat or two dangle there, cute and funny in the daytime and a little creepy at night when the wind makes a sleeve reach for you out of the darkness or your flashlight catches a shadowy shape just so. Cute and creepy– my favorite combination.

Now that we live right behind my parents, I treat their backyard as mine again, wandering through it at all hours, and I’ve been enjoying seeing the witch’s laundry swaying in the October breeze. One day recently, I got an idea and posed for a photo at the clothesline.

The picture reminded me of a line from a poem I wrote a few years ago. It was published in the 2019-2020 edition of Best Austin Poetry after winning the “Unexpected Award” in their annual contests that year. I wrote “Growing Faces” after seeing a face in a tree trunk, then imagining other objects acquiring human (or not-so-human) characteristics. I had fun creating the wordplay in this poem and hope you enjoy the imagery it conjures.

Growing Faces

The tree outside my window is growing faces.
The creek behind my fence is growing limbs.
The wind inside my chimney is growing voices.
The fog across the lake is growing skin.

The laundry on my clothesline is growing legs.
The chimes in my garden are growing lungs.
The cobwebs in my corners are growing eggs.
The loose boards on my staircase are growing tongues.

The street outside my house is growing shoulders.
The lids on my secrets are growing styes.
The cave beneath my land is growing molars.
The darkness beyond my lamp is growing eyes.

The cracks along my sidewalk are growing fingers.
The holes in my back porch are growing nails.
The inkblots on my paper are growing stingers.
The stories in my head are growing tails.

© Carie Juettner

Enjoy the rest of October and have a
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!