To outline or not to outline – that is the question. It’s certainly among the most commonly asked questions by neophyte writers at mystery writing workshops and panels. And there’s really only one answer: Each of us must discover for ourselves whether outlines are helpful or harmful as we plan and write our novels.

"I believe being an outliner or non-outliner is akin to being left-handed or right-handed," says Jan Burke. "They are states natural to the individual, neither is superior, and the only time things get clumsy is when you do what is not natural to you." 

Many authors outline their novels meticulously before they sit down to write, sketching out each scene or chapter all the way to the end. They feel that to work without an outline – a guide to give their story structure and keep it on track – would be tantamount to leaving on a cross-country trip without a road map or constructing a large and complex building without a blueprint. A good outline, they believe, will highlight plot and character problems in advance; help them plant clues, red herrings, and plot twists more deftly; improve their overall structure and pacing; and even indicate where more research may be needed – all of this saving time and effort at the revision stage. "I need to have some sense of where I'm going, a foundation as it were," says Gary Phillips, who experiments with different types of outlines for different books. "But I also enjoy the experience of being into the book and then sort of discovering this other path for awhile that I'll take as it keeps me energized… But – and this is a key caveat – I always make sure I don't go so far [away from the outline] that I fail to incorporate the major plot points. I am a stickler for making sure I'm servicing the plot I've established."

Many others will tell you that, for them, to work from an outline is to stifle spontaneity, emotion, and voice. Outlines can be creatively paralyzing, they feel, forcing them to follow a triptych that bypasses fascinating side roads and wondrous hidden places waiting to be discovered by the more adventurous traveler. Surprises are what make novels fun and rewarding, they point out, and if the writer isn’t surprised along the way, it’s unlikely the reader will be, either. Outlines, these writers believe, can result in plot-driven novels in which stick figure characters are made to say and do what the pre-fab plot demands. "For me," says Jan Burke, who never outlines, not even in her head, "being immersed in the story, allowing events to unfold before me, is the more natural way to write." Katherine V. Forrest noodles her whodunits beforehand, but not too much. "Going in," she says, "if I don't have a clear idea of who did it, how, and why, I run a real risk of wasting a lot of time fixing plot instead of working on quality and craft elements.  Otherwise, I'm in the no-outline camp.  I always have a dramatic situation or scenario I want to explore, I place my police detective in it, and my novels build out from there."

Other writers will tell you their approach falls somewhere in the gray middle. They don’t go into the writing process cold but they don’t work from a highly developed game plan, either. They might rely on a simple step outline, a list of essential plot points in logical order to keep them on track. Or they may work from notes that suggest a premise, a few key characters, and a general theme to help them find their focus. "I generally work from a very loose, nontraditional outline," says Nichelle D. Tramble. "It's not so much a map of where the story is going but situations, snatches of dialogue, and characters I would like to include. I usually know my ending but the middle section is filled with surprises for me."

Many writers I’ve talked to know how their stories end before they begin writing, but not all. "I start a book with only a vague notion of the ending," says Barbara Seranella. "The most important part when I begin is the beginning hook and premise. The characters reveal their traits to me as they come alive on the page. By a third of the way, I might have figured out how the crime was done, but not by whom or why. Or why but not who or how. Often I don't know the ultimate bad guy until the very end, when, like my sleuth, I have the field narrowed to a few that are promising."

Sometimes, in our quest to find our place within a genre, we forget that we are all unique individuals, meant to write novels that only we can write, in our own distinct voice and our own special way. As Jan Burke pointed out, there is no one approach to outlining that fits all of us – or even one family. Alafair Burke, for example, who writes more "plotted" novels, says she likes to outline; her father, James Lee Burke, whose novels she calls "more literary," does not. It’s also possible to change your approach over time. I once asked Lawrence Block if he uses outlines for his novels. "Never," he said emphatically, before adding, "Although I did use them for the first dozen or so."

One thing all writers seem to agree on: You must never become a slave to your outline, following it so rigidly that you destroy the creative nature of the writing process. As one sits down to write, most believe, she or he should be ready to embrace surprises and go with the flow – letting characters reveal themselves along the way or the plot to take a different direction when it makes for a more compelling and satisfying story. The alternative is to grind out by-the-numbers potboilers that feel overly schematic and derivative, formulaic plots without much fresh or distinctive character. "What works for me," says Harley Jane Kozak, "is to do a minimal outline, a very conversational-in-tone narrative, roughly a paragraph for each chapter. The sole purpose of this is to avoid writer's block, which I've never experienced, but live in fear of. As soon as I've written a chapter, I read the outline to see what to write next. By the end of the first draft I've revised the outline many times and deviated from it wildly, but it doesn't matter because it's gotten me through a [first] draft, which is all I needed it to do."

My own Benjamin Justice mysteries lean toward character-driven but are also consciously plotted, and I confess to being an obsessive outliner. Going in, I need the safety net of a strong storyline, woven of various narrative threads (the main plot and subplots); without it, I feel lost, with no sense of where I’m going or how I’ll get there. Generally, before I start writing, I come up with an intriguing situation or premise on which I feel I can hang a good story. Next, I create a cast of characters I find varied and interesting, then throw them together to see what kind of story possibilities are suggested by their backgrounds, personalities, inner conflicts, motivations, and relationships to each other. As I begin my research to better know them and their worlds – if I feel that’s necessary – I let my imagination run amok, shaping a story as a chapter-by-chapter outline, a puzzle into which all the pieces must eventually fit, even if the pieces and the puzzle undergo changes during the writing, which they often do.

As I outline, character is as important to me as plot, with each developing in an integrated way. I call it "creative outlining," an approach in which I try to get inside the skin of my key characters as they move and grow from scene to scene, while paying keen attention to setting, detail, secondary characters, plausibility, foreshadowing, dialogue, et al. For me, the key to effective outlining is to not rush the process, simply listing plot points, but to immerse myself in the characters and their internal and external worlds as I proceed. I might take weeks or even months to complete an outline, which can vary in length; my most recent mystery outlines, for BLIND EYE and MOTH AND FLAME, each ran more than 20,000 words, about a quarter of the length of the published novel.

When it’s done, it’s not so much an outline as a raw first draft of a novel. I show it to my editor for his feedback, do some tinkering, then sit down to write, finding my freedom and creativity within the form and structure the outline provides. To sustain my voice and write with feeling, it’s crucial that I stay deeply connected to the main characters, letting my emotion fuel the process. Now and then, I’ll rework an outline as I’m writing the rough draft of the novel, to adapt to creative surprises while maintaining a sense of story structure that keeps me on track.

This is how I prepare for and write my novels. A hundred other writers could reveal a hundred other approaches. What works for you is something you’ll have to discover on your own, as we all must. Just don’t worry so much about the outlining issue that you never get started or finished. There’s only one way to learn how to tell stories and write well – by sitting down and taking the journey, road map or not.