Writing Identities: Unlocking Your Creative DNA

Writing Identities: Unlocking Your Creative DNA

Every writer eventually faces a question that feels both simple and impossible: How do I actually write best?

For some, the answer comes quickly: they can’t start without an outline, character arcs, and index cards spread across the table. For others, structure feels suffocating; the only way forward is to jump into the blank page and discover the story as it unfolds. And for many, the truth lies in between—a blend of planning and improvisation.

You’ve probably heard the shorthand: Plotter. Pantser. Plantser. But here’s the problem: those categories can be useful, but they’re too simple for the complex reality of creative work. Writing is not just about your process; it’s about your mindset, your habits, and the way you respond when things go wrong.

In this article, let’s go deeper than labels. Let’s explore these three writing “identities,” examine the benefits and pitfalls of each, and—most importantly—show you how to adapt and evolve your approach so you’re not trapped by any one method. Think of it as discovering your creative DNA—the unique combination of instincts, habits, and tools that let you thrive as a writer.

The Plotter: Building Before Breathing

If the plotter had a motto, it might be: “If I can see the road, I can walk it.”

Plotters thrive on preparation. They often spend weeks—or even months—creating outlines, character sheets, timelines, and maps before writing their first chapter. For them, writing without a plan is like building a house without blueprints.

Why it works:

• Clarity from the start. Plotters rarely get stuck staring at a blank page. They know what needs to happen next because the plan already exists.

• Foreshadowing and complexity. A detailed plan makes it easier to weave clues, callbacks, and thematic arcs into the story.

• Efficiency. Revisions may be cleaner because the “big mistakes” were ironed out during planning.

The risks:

• Overplanning. A writer can spend so long mapping out the story that they never get around to writing it.

• Rigidity. Stories change as you write. Clinging too tightly to a plan can make the prose stiff or predictable.

• Fear of the unknown. When the writing veers off course, some plotters panic instead of seeing it as an opportunity.

Example in practice: A plotter might draft a 30-chapter outline, with each chapter containing bullet points for key events, dialogue snippets, and emotional beats. They might use digital tools like Scrivener or index cards on a wall to shuffle plot points into the perfect order before committing a single sentence to the manuscript.

The Pantser: Chasing the Spark

If the pantser had a motto, it would be: “The only way out is through.”

Pantsers leap into the page without a plan, relying on instinct, inspiration, and discovery. They might start with a character, an image, or a question—and let the story take them wherever it wants to go.

Why it works:

• Authenticity. Because the story unfolds naturally, characters often feel more alive, conversations more organic, and plot twists more surprising.

• Energy. Pantsers thrive on momentum. They don’t stall in the planning stage—they write.

• Discovery. Sometimes, pantsers find themes or plot points they never could have predicted if they had planned too tightly.

The risks:

• Getting lost. Without a plan, pantsers can write themselves into corners, create plot holes, or lose momentum.

• Messy revisions. Drafts may need major restructuring later.

• Burnout. Some pantsers abandon stories halfway through because the initial spark fizzles.

Example in practice: A pantser might open a blank document with nothing but a sentence in mind—“She wasn’t supposed to be here tonight”—and then simply keep going. They don’t know the ending, and that’s the thrill.

The Plantser: Dancing Between Two Worlds

If the plantser had a motto, it would be: “Enough structure to start. Enough freedom to surprise.”

Plantsers are the middle ground. They might begin with a rough outline—three or four major plot points, a basic sense of the ending, maybe a character sketch—but they leave the details open. They want the reassurance of structure, but they also crave the thrill of discovery.

Why it works:

• Flexibility. Plantsers can pivot if the story demands it, but they won’t completely lose direction.

• Balance. They get the best of both worlds: structure without rigidity, freedom without chaos.

• Adaptability. If a plantser realizes they’re leaning too much toward one side (planning or improvising), they can correct without scrapping the whole draft.

The risks:

• Indecision. Trying to balance both methods can lead to confusion—too much freedom, not enough clarity.

• Inconsistency. Some projects might thrive under this hybrid method, while others stall out.

Example in practice: A plantser might sketch three key turning points and a potential ending, but leave everything else open. They might use the “Save the Cat” beats or the Hero’s Journey as a loose guide, but adjust on the fly as characters surprise them.

Why These Labels Don’t Tell the Whole Story

It’s tempting to treat plotter/pantser/plantser as fixed categories—like sorting yourself into a Hogwarts house. But in reality, writing identities are far more fluid.

• You might be a plotter when writing a mystery (because it requires tight control) but a pantser when writing a personal essay.

• You might start your career as a pantser, then shift toward plotting after one too many abandoned manuscripts.

• You might move back and forth within the same book—outlining the beginning, pantsing the middle, then plotting the ending once you know your characters better.

These identities are not rules. They’re reference points. The real power lies in recognizing your tendencies and then borrowing strategies from the other styles when you need them.

How to Work With—Not Against—Your Style

Instead of trying to “fix” your approach, focus on supporting it. Here’s how:

• If you’re a Plotter:

  • Don’t let outlines become shackles. Treat them as guides, not laws.

  • Build room for surprises by marking “flex points” in your plan—chapters or moments where you allow yourself to improvise.

• If you’re a Pantser:

  • Give yourself anchors. That might be a rough idea of the ending, or just three milestones to aim toward.

  • Keep a running journal as you write—so you don’t forget important threads you want to revisit.

• If you’re a Plantser:

  • Embrace your adaptability. Use lightweight tools like mind maps or sticky notes so you can shift direction easily.

  • Set limits: decide in advance how much planning you’ll do before diving into drafting. Otherwise, you may drift endlessly between modes.

A Final Thought: Writing Is Evolution

At its core, writing is not about being a “type.” It’s about finishing. It’s about finding the methods that help you put words on the page consistently enough to build a story worth sharing.

Your writing identity is not permanent. It will shift from project to project, season to season. What matters is not whether you’re a plotter, pantser, or plantser—it’s whether you’re willing to experiment, adapt, and evolve.

Because the truth is: every great writer is all three, at different times. The only identity that matters is the one that gets you to the end of your book.