Someone asked me the other day if, as an author, I was a plotter or a pantser.

I had never heard the term ‘pantser’ before, and I’m quite certain that the blank look I gave her made my ignorance quite obvious. Taking pity on me, this person went on to explain that a pantser was someone who wrote by the seat of her pants, with little attention to structured plotting. So, she asked again, which was I?

I had to stop and think for a moment. Both, I told her finally. Most definitely both.

At the beginning of every story, I have specific scenes rattling around in my head that I want to happen in my book. These are the defining scenes that give my story structure and shape my plot. They’re rarely written in order, but there will be a beginning, an end, and a handful of important scenes in between. This would be the ‘plotter’ part.

What my characters do in between these plot points is the ‘pantser’ part. And quite often, these in-between scenes suddenly crystallize at the oddest moments. See me suddenly drive into a random parking lot and stop in the middle of nowhere? I’m not texting. Or looking at a map. I’m very likely scribbling frantically with the only writing utensil I can find in my car that isn’t frozen (my kid’s crayons work well) on the back of an oil-change receipt from the glove box. See me leaning on the cart in the middle of the pickle aisle at the grocery store scribbling on another piece of paper? I’m probably not writing a shopping list, I’m writing a scene. On a few very rare occasions, I am actually sitting at my desk behind my laptop, and it’s all very civilized…

I’ve included snippets of three of my favorite scenes from I’ve Got My Duke to Keep Me Warm below. I don’t think any of them were actually first written at a desk.
And at least one of them was written in the pickle aisle.

1)When my hero first begins to understand the heroine may not be what she seems:

The ice queen shrugged. “You’ll have to trust me.”
Jamie closed his eyes, fighting for patience. “Will I need to steal something?”
“Unlikely.”
“Kill someone?”
“Hopefully not.”
“Blow something up?”
“You’re familiar with explosives?”
His eyes popped open at the undisguised interest in her last question. What the hell kind of woman used the word explosives the way most used the word marmalade? Or teapot?


2)The moment when genuine honesty begins to establish itself between the hero and the heroine:

“I did that to save a woman who would have been dead within a year had I not!”
“Then I ask why? While it may have been noble, why go to such extremes for a woman you’ve never even met? I have to assume, Gisele, that what you did—what you do—is to atone for something in your past. Something terrible. What did you do in London, Gisele?”
“I got married,” she said savagely, suddenly furious he had forced her into this before she was ready.


3) This conversation took place between the hero and the heroine near the end of the book. They were conducting a perfectly reasonable conversation in perfectly unreasonable circumstances.

“You’ll never be a duchess, you realize.”
Gisele sniffled. “Thank God. Every time I put on an expensive ball gown something seems to explode.”