The One Time I Outlined A Novel...

I’ve been writing stories since I was a child.

Like most kids in the public school system, I learned the fundamentals of English, literature, and writing early on.

But outlines?

To me, outlines were always reserved for technical papers, research essays, and assignments with strict formatting requirements.

Creative writing felt different.

When it came to fiction, I preferred to trust my instincts and write from the heart.

For years, that beautifully chaotic method worked for me.

I wrote by feeling.

By voice.

By character.

By instinct.

And honestly?

That’s exactly why outlines and I have always had a complicated relationship.

When I started writing States of Grace, everything changed.

This story is an epic tale told through three different points of view. It spans countless locations, layered timelines, and an extensive cast of supporting characters.

For the first time, I felt like I couldn’t afford to “just wing it.”

So…

I made an outline.

Working Outline for 'States of Grace"

And as you can see, that outline quickly took on a life of its own.

I’ll admit it—I’m actually proud of the organization and layout. There’s something incredibly satisfying about seeing an entire story mapped out in color-coded order.

It looked brilliant.

It felt safe.

It made me feel like I was finally writing the “right” way.

But somewhere along the line, something shifted.

Instead of using the outline as a guide, I started serving it.

Rather than following the emotional truth of the story, I became rigidly focused on staying on plan.

Afraid to go off track.

Afraid to deviate.

Afraid to let the characters surprise me.

And that fear showed up on the page.

There is still good writing in that first draft—little nuggets of a story that absolutely deserves to be told.

But because I clung so tightly to the outline, I forced my characters into situations that no longer served the story as it evolved.

Now that bloated 200,000-word manuscript sits quietly on my hard drive, waiting for the TLC it needs to be dusted off and carved into the story it was always meant to become.

209,904 Words?! Damn!!!

If I’m being honest, it overwhelms me.

It feels, in many ways, like my magnum opus—the grand tale I was meant to tell.

And that makes it terrifying.

Because cutting scenes doesn’t just feel like editing.

Sometimes it feels like erasing pieces of something sacred.

But here’s what I’ve come to realize:

Even the scenes that no longer belong were never wasted.

Those pages taught me who these characters are.

They showed me how they love, how they break, how they survive, and how they move through the world.

That kind of discovery is invaluable.

It’s research of the most intimate kind.

So no—I’m not against outlines.

In fact, I can absolutely see their usefulness, especially for sprawling, multi-POV stories with complex intersections and emotional throughlines.

I’m simply learning how to use structure without sacrificing soul.

Because sometimes the plan is helpful.

And sometimes the heart knows better.

After all, when the ancestors whisper…

you should listen.