Note From KMW: One of the big debates in writing is whether great writers know the ending first before they ever start drafting. Some writers thrive on the certainty of a clear destination, while others prefer to let the journey unfold organically. But which approach leads to the strongest stories?
Personally, I’ve never sat down to write an outline, much less a first draft, without at least thinking I knew the general ending. However, there’s no one-size-fits-all answer. This is why understanding the pros and cons of each method can help you find the right balance for your own process. A solid ending can provide direction and focus, but some writers find that too much rigidity stifles creativity. On the other hand, writing without a planned ending can lead to exciting discoveries—but also to meandering plots and frustrating rewrites.
Today, I’m pleased to share a post from Daryl Rothman, who shares convincing examples from both sides of the road. Whether you’re a meticulous plotter or a spontaneous discovery writer, his insights can help you understand how knowing (or not knowing) your ending will shape your creative process.
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In This Article:
- Famous Authors Who Knew Their Endings
- Do All Great Writers Plan Their Endings? A Different Perspective
- Plotter vs. Pantser: Which Writing Method Works Best?
John Irving once noted:
I write the last line, and then I write the line before that. I find myself writing backwards for a while, until I have a solid sense of how that ending sounds and feels. You have to know what your voice sounds like at the end of the story, because it tells you how to sound when you begin.
The World According to Garp by John Irving (affiliate link)
Hard to poke holes in his rationale, or his success with The Cider House Rules and The World According to Garp, to name but a few. Irving elaborated that he types the words and sends them as postcards to close friends (some who noted that not nary a punctuation mark evolved from conception to publication). Irving added:
You have to know what your voice sounds like at the end of the story because it tells you how to sound when you begin.
This topic evokes some immediate lines in the sand. I remember being called a pantser years ago. “Hey,” I recall protesting, in homage to Larry Fine, “I resemble that remark.” Of course, the moniker referred not to any propensity for yanking down the trousers of a mortified fellow human but rather, my tendency to favor a measure of spontaneity over assiduous plotting. In truth, I typically end up somewhere in between, or a little of everything, but the matter of pantser vs. plotter has its ardent adherents, including many who stand squarely with Irving.
Margaret Mitchell famously wrote Gone with the Wind backwards, penning the saddest parts of the Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara saga before adjudicating the details of their tumultuous relationship. Mitchell wrote the book’s final moments of grief and loss first. She said:
I left them to their ultimate fate.
In a 2011 NPR interview, Joanna Arietta, director of historic houses for the Atlanta History Center and Margaret Mitchell House, noted:
She knew at the very beginning that Rhett wasn’t going to care that much and that Scarlett was going to live for another day
Mitchell shared:
“I had every detail clear in my mind before I sat down to the typewriter. I believe… that is the best way to write a book—then your characters can’t get away from you and misbehave, and do things you didn’t intend them to do in the beginning.
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket by Edgar Allan Poe (affiliate link)
Even my beloved Edgar Allan Poe believed the finest writers composed their work with an understanding of the story’s end and the impact it should have on readers. Inclined toward the short story, Poe’s lone completed novel, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, contains an italicized trail of phrases for the reader to track, foreshadowing the story’s end. These impart the feel of a conceptual short story and further illustrate that the end of his tales remained always front of mind.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling (affiliate link)
JK Rowling wrote the last chapter of the seventh and final Harry Potter book, The Deathly Hallows, around the same time she conceived the idea for the first:
I’ve always planned seven books. These books have been plotted for such a long time, and for six books now, that they’re all leading a certain direction.
Once again, tough to argue with the staggering success her roadmap yielded.
There are countless more adherents, yet this is hardly a decided debate. Rather, it is freighted with the impassioned druthers of some dissenting heavyweights.
Do All Great Writers Plan Their Endings? A Different Perspective
In 2011, The Guardian revealed Great Expectations as readers’ favorite Dickens novel, yet his original ending may well have evoked a different sentiment. The initial version sees an unmarried Pip briefly reunite with Estella in London, finding she has been widowed and remarried, dashing all hope of ending up together.
Great Expectations (2012), Lionsgate.
Roald Dahl’s first iteration of Matilda was something of a cautionary tale, and didn’t even feature the bookish heroine readers came to know and love. Matilda was a naughty, unruly child (Veruca Salt anyone?) who pranked those around her and perished in the end of the book as penance for her cruelty. Fans may give thanks that Dahl’s final version changed course, softening our beloved protagonist.
Matilda the Musical (2022), Netflix.
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway (affiliate link)
And then there’s Hemingway’s 47 potential conclusions to A Farewell to Arms. This classic famously ends,
After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.
Simple and sparse, inimitable Hemingway. But it would not have been had he rigidly held to one of his myriad previous conclusions.
Stephen King, one of the most prolific authors of all time, recoils at the idea of obedient plotting, feeling it extinguishes creative embers, and stunts the organic growth of the characters you have brought into the world. Most of his ideas arise from simple questions he posits, often beginning with “What if?,” and building from the possibilities that subsequently manifest. Salem’s Lot clawed its way to life from one such query: “What if vampires invaded a small New England village?” So too with Cujo: “What if a young mother and her son became trapped in their stalled car by a rabid dog?”
Salem’s Lot (2024), HBO Max
Plotter vs. Pantser: Which Writing Method Works Best?
It is said that a friend once visited James Joyce as he wrote, inquiring upon arrival the source of the scribe’s obvious vexation. Of course it was the work, as always. “How many words did you get today?” queried the visitor. “Seven,” replied Joyce. “Seven? But James… that’s good, at least for you.” “Yes,” Joyce at last assented, before lamenting, “But I don’t know what order they go in!”
I think many writers can relate to the challenge of determining sequence and structure across an entire manuscript.
So, who’s right? Pantsers or plotters? Is it better to set down your stakes straight away, finish line forever in sight, or at least in mind—or to wing it, to breathe life into your story and its inhabitants and sit back and enjoy the ride?
The question, of course, is flawed. Hopefully, all writers have learned, even if they harbor a preference, that there is no one right way. We have heard here from only a smattering of notable scribes who have found smashing success on either side of the fence. The achievement of one approach clearly cannot be said to belie that of the other. You must find what works for you (and it might not always be the same, project to project, or as your literary journey progresses).
Sense of Style by Steven Pinker (affiliate link)
I wrote a piece questioning blind adherence to some of writing’s “rules,” and referred in the piece to Dr. Steven Pinker, noted Harvard linguist, author, psychologist, and cognitive scientist, who in his The Sense of Style challenges some of these sacred cows. My article focused on the great debate around word choice, and in an email exchange with Pinker, he agreed that the “Puritanical advice” which tends to undergird many style manuals and writing rules “is overdone.”
>>Click here to read The Rules of Fiction: What They Are and What They’re Not
So don’t box yourself in. Experiment.
Gospel by Daryl Rothman (affiliate link)
I like to have an overall idea of story and perhaps the endgame or some goalposts, but leave the road along the way uncluttered by excessive plotting. I credit King’s practice of posing key questions. From that ember of a possibility can ignite a roaring blaze of story, character, and conflict.
King’s “key question” approach has worked well for me, especially if I further the “What if” inquiry to include something like, “but is prevented (from main objective) by….” But even if I fancy knowing the result, I humble myself sufficiently to remain open to a change, perhaps even a big one. Our stories and our characters are our babies, yes, but sometimes you must “kill your darlings,” as King famously said. Or at the very least, follow their lead.
I remember as a kid reading and then watching Shane, and when little Joey is running through the graveyard toward the climactic showdown of the film, my father said softly, “And a child shall lead them.” (A little Isaiah 11: 6 for you.)
Truth be told, it stuck with me, more for the literary lesson. My story is my baby, just as is each character. I have breathed life into them and must ultimately follow their lead, providing what guidance I can. I am not their puppet master, nor they my obedient marionettes, dancing upon my every pull of the string or punch of the keyboard. Give your characters life. Imbue them with some defining traits, build out your world a bit, and set them free upon it.
Outlining Your Novel (Amazon affiliate link)
I do outline a bit, though at the beginning I keep it fairly broad and flexible. I may outline further as I go along and I see where the story and the characters are taking me. I may jot reminders or ideas for upcoming scenes. But I try not to be intransigent: if upon arrival those ideas or scenes no longer fit, or need some tweaking, I make a course correction.
Everyone has an ego; I definitely do. Writing is one of the few things I believe I do well, and it has transpired more than once that I pen something, even a paragraph, I think to be well-written, even masterful, but there is that gnawing sense it simply doesn’t fit. It isn’t true to the story or perhaps the character. I hem and haw, grumble and groan, perhaps let slip a few nice expletives (talk about word choice), but know in my heart to leave out the misplaced verbiage.
On the other hand, I don’t like to start with nothing, rudderless, no notes, no ideas, my writerly trousers tugged down to my ankles. I typically conjure something of a roadmap but remain open to the number of detours I’m apt to encounter along the way. Flexibility within structure.
Best wishes finding the approach best for you. No better way in the end than to keep working. Good luck in your journey. Write on!
In Summary
The debate between plotters and pantsers—whether to plan a story meticulously or allow it to unfold organically—has been central to many famous authors’ writing processes. Writers like John Irving, Margaret Mitchell, and J.K. Rowling have spoken about how knowing the ending first can help inform their writing. However, authors like Stephen King emphasize a more spontaneous approach, allowing the story to develop naturally. Ultimately, there’s no one-size-fits-all approach. Writers must find what works best for them and adapt as their creative process evolves.
Key Takeaways
- Plotting vs. Pantsing: Some writers prefer to plan their endings first, believing it guides the rest of the story, while others discover the ending as they write.
- Famous Authors’ Approaches: John Irving, Margaret Mitchell, and J.K. Rowling all believed in starting with the ending to ensure a cohesive narrative, while authors like Stephen King take a more exploratory approach.
- Flexibility is Key: Whether you plot or pants, remaining flexible allows your story and characters to evolve naturally.
- No Right Answer: The best method depends on the writer and the specific project. It’s important to experiment and find what works for you.
Wordplayers, tell us your opinions! Do you think great writers plan their endings first, or do you prefer to let the story unfold organically? Tell us in the comments!
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About Daryl Rothman | @drothmanwrites
I don’t know if I’m a plotter or a pantser but what this post has done is to make me think more about the details for ending the story I’m writing at the moment.
Thanks for commenting! Good luck with the story!
Thanks so much for sharing with us today, Daryl!
Katie, always an honor!
I know the ending of my fantasy series, even if I’m unsure about the individual books. (4 currently written with 3 published.) I’ve written the end of another novel, but am stuck in the middle. (I need to ask, ‘what if.’)
I don’t plot in detail, though. In fact, most of my plotting is in my head and not written.
But I do think it’s useful to have at least some idea of the end so it doesn’t end as a rambling.
Thanks. I very much agree.
Isn’t there a huge difference between knowing how a story ends and actually – like John Irving – writing it down?
And what is the end in question anyway? Does The Shining end with the evil hotel burning down or with Danny and Wendy resting and healing at another – friendly – hotel?
Does The Return of the King end with the destruction of the ring or at the Grey Havens? Or when Sam is home with Rosie and the kids again?
When JKR says she wrote the ending of Deathly Hallows, does she mean the actual ending ending, or does she mean how the main conflict is resolved?
How the main conflict is resolved seems like something you should arrive at pretty early on, but why figure out the last paragraphs of the book before you start writing? I just can’t think of why that would be so important.
One thing that draws me in the direction of the King style of writing without a clear outline is that it gives characters a chance to evolve independent of the writers’ plans. Some of them might even surprise the writer.
Thanks Daniel. Great points, and I agree about King.
I’m definitely a pantser, and I’ve always liked Neil Gaiman’s advice to “Write down everything that happens in the story, and then in your second draft make it look like you knew what you were doing all along.” Learning to edit and make outlines after the fact has been a long process for me, which is one of the things that brought me here! Thank you for all your advice!
Thank you, Tatianna. Yes, I call it the sprinkle in method. Being able to go back when editing and sprinkle in key things makes me appear a lot more clever—and planful—than I really am. 🙂
Love that NG quote as well!
“Flexibility within structure.” For me, that phrase hit home with a surprising thump. It summed up my approach, which I hadn’t realized I had until I read your post.
No point standing on one’s doorstep, suitcase firmly in hand, without knowing the direction to take — hiking into a dark forest, or running towards a decadent city. Once direction is defined, the thousand “what if” comes tumbling into conscious thought.
I also want to thank you for helping me envisage the last few lines of my duology. I spend most of my writing time frowning, constantly questioning. It was sheer delight to smile.
Great to hear it, Carol, and best wishes!
No writer escapes without a rough draft. I propose that no good novel escapes at least one edit after the end is known, because you have to make sure the beginning sets up the end. Ergo, it doesn’t matter (to the final product) if you know the ending when you’re telling yourself the story in the first draft, only that you like the process and follow it to the end.
Makes sense, Abigail. Thanks! 🙏
I have written three novels as a trilogy (two which have yet to be published), and numerous short stories about these particular characters and worlds. I knew before I started writing what some of the key conflicts and themes would be. I had a set of conclusions in mind, but nothing solid. I like to have a framework, yet still give my characters room to evolve on their own. This way I am flexible in case my characters take off on a useful and relevant tangent. To me, writing combines forethought with discovery, and so remains exciting.
Well said, Voron!
Being a more left-brained professional type, I know that I must have an ending in mind as my North Star. I also know I want to work with an outline. However, so much writing occurs in my head and later makes it to the page. I use a Scrivener outline to basically be the skeleton on which to hang the clothes sort of speak. As I progress, so many things change and positively develop that it surprises me. The characters become richer and more clear. The plot and theme are dynamic entities as I progress. The chapter outline is flexible in order to calibrate pacing, flow and reveal.
Philip, thanks. Scrivener was so big for a while—haven’t heard as much lately but glad it serves you well. Thanks for the feedback!
Loved reading your comment! Things developing as the book develops, in surprising ways… dynamic plot and theme. I have realized that my conscious crafter didn’t understand the theme, halfway through or even toward the end, until it emerged in the plot points and the characters.
I’ve always been a hybrid. I need the Theme (thank you, Katie, for the book that got me doing this explicitly), and I need to write a final chapter so I know how the theme gets ‘proven.’ I almost never go to press with that chapter, but it, and the Theme and the Plot Points are my North Star (like Philip). I need that Roadmap Light or the plot isn’t compelling/doesn’t work. But! I stand in wondering amazement at the people who use plotting software and lay out nearly every scene. I think you’d need to, to get a tightly-crafted mystery, for example, or a spy caper, where the clues have to be dripped in a specific order and way. My first fiction tries were mystery short-stories and it didn’t flow easily. I flowed into space opera because (my theory) it lends itself to careful plot points but lots of ideas that don’t start to percolate or pop until I am ‘in the midst’ of the work.
Round about Chapter 3, I transition to living in the story and then I just look around and report what’s happening en route to the next plot point. Kind of like a X-country trip. You need to know how far you can drive in a day and make a reservation at that town or at least know what town it is (and that the yearly bull-buying weekend isn’t the one you’re aiming to be loosey goosy about reservations with).
I don’t even care if I throw out the last chapter and write an entirely new one, if the new idea nails the Theme even better. [Not knowing all the complications en route, I can’t possibly wrap up loose ends I don’t know about.] And I always write and throw out the first few chapters because that part of the work is always excruciating. Probably because I’m not completely in the protagonist’s head yet, and have only a hazy idea of what the set-up for 1st Plot Point needs to be. I can usually nail the Inciting Event even if I don’t have a clue on Chapter 1.
Victoria VERY insightful comments, thanks!
I used to insist that I was a dedicated pantser, and that is still partially true.
While taking a writing class, the leader taught us to write a beginning and an ending.
I really loathe minuscule plotting but some stories need to progress on a linear timeline.
To my way of thinking the huge benefit of writing the beginning and then the ending, is that you can achieve that “full circle”effect. I firmly believe that the characters should drive the plot. Their reactions to different situations make the story. And I love the surprises.
Kathy, thanks! Do you ever find locking into the beginning and ending at all mitigates against LETTING the characters drive the plot? I.E., they must get to the predetermined ending, but, what if as they develop, that’s not truly where they want to go? I think it’s doable…the characters can organically find their way TO the ending…but just curious your thoughts? Thanks for the great feedback!
Here is the interview I go to about Irving:
John Irving interview (1998)
These two with Tartt mention her process:
Donna Tartt interview (1992)
Donna Tartt interview (2014)
This is a classic series that I saw on PBS decades ago.
Writer’s Workshop Stories
https://www.scetv.org/stories/tags/writers-workshop
Thanks for sharing!!
I just finished reading Gone With the Wind this morning, so what an interesting bit of trivia to read about as I get to Mitchell’s ending!
I’m naturally more of a pantser… I do like to have an idea of the ending so as I don’t trail off into an unclear ending, but when it comes to getting there, my characters love taking detours and scenic routes (and maybe even attempting to drive through some uncultivated land when they get a little too daring…). 🤭
Love it, Riley!
As I am by chance at the very point, in my first attempt at a novel, where the ending is just beginning to have a feeling of infinite choice about it, I have the luxury of choosing either method, I thought I’d offer my own subjective experience. As a writer I found it interesting for one character to do something unexpected and follow along with it even if it proves to be a red herring on rereading because it may suggest a path I had not thought of plot wise. Sometimes it can feel good to walk into a white room and throw an unexpected colour against the wall and work out how it got there and I have considered rolling a dice to determine which of six choices the story might follow, in the end though, the missing next steps are hidden in the voice or thoughts of one of the characters. It is finding the right one to inhabit and the better I come to know them, the more convinced I am, they might eventually reach some sort of conclusion of their own, as their destinies are written all over them, or should be….
Jonathan great insights—thanks for sharing!
For me, the ending is the reason I write the story. The purpose of that ending is to create catharsis that brings tears of joy and satisfaction. Everything in the story before that point only exists to reach that ending.
There is no right way to write, therefore all ways are wrong.
We’re going to be alright, you and me.
In my book, I am writing on. A male human becomes a merman to join his mermaid at the end. His mermaid becomes cheiftess of the mer-clan who live in the inner-earth.