Soup Makers and Bread Bakers
Writers often get reduced to one of two types, “Plotters” or “Pantsers.” George R.R. Martin defines the duality as “Architects” or “Gardeners.” The idea is the same. One type of writer wants their plans fully in place—outlined—before launching into their story; the other dives straight in to discover the potentials and surprises their story may hold. Both are work. There is no such thing as “easy” writing.
Still, this desire to divide us into one of two camps reminds me of Tom Robbin’s observation in Still Life with Woodpecker: “There really are two kinds of people in the world. The ones who believe there are two kinds of people in the world and the ones who know better.” With this is in mind, I’d like to play the game of names by offering yet another variation on the theme. I think of writers better as Soup Makers and Bread Bakers.
I prefer this for several reasons, the first being is that both take place in the same space. A kitchen, the room we think of as the heart of our homes—I like to believe we write best when we write from our hearts. Secondly, one assumes the presence of the other. Soup is served with bread. Without bread, we’d not know the ambrosia of the Muses—tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. The skills needed for one are useful to the other. Measuring, chopping, stirring, inspiration and patience make soup and bread alike. My essential reason for preferring this point of view is that all of the above imply a spectrum in the process of writing rather than a binary division of type.
To make soup, we place a pot over heat and layer in what aromatics and other flavors we happen to find in our supplies, douse those in stock, and wait while the flavors meld, tasting along the way to adjust. Magic happens. To bake bread, we rely on recipes, bookbound, inherited, or memorized. We measure, weigh, mix, knead, shape and then wait for the dough to rise. We slip the result in the oven. Magic happens. The process can be reversed: Soup can be tied to recipes while the bread can rely on instincts gained from experience.
My essential reason for preferring this point of view is that all of the above imply a spectrum in the process of writing rather than a binary division of type.
The upshot is that all writers move along the spectrum between playing and planning on every story we create. I do not outline (if I write the outline, what’s the point of writing the novel?). Yet when I reach the beginning of each new chapter, I type in all caps what’s going to happen next. That’s planning. Having a rigorous outline in place, does not mean the story under construction will not suddenly want to be told in a new direction. That’s play. And so we shuttle back and forth on the spectrum as our stories require. Making soup and baking bread can be and are often done at the same time.
I now answer that question of whether I’m one or the other type of writer with a shrug. Approach is a question of appetite in the story. I create and serve according to the narrative’s needs. In my kitchen, soup without bread is impossible. Bread without soup? The same. I know only that I want to nourish the story in hope of nourishing the reader. Soup with bread makes a complete meal.
Writing Exercise:
Go to a cookbook or look online to find a few recipes. Read through these recipes several times. Notice how the list of ingredients follows the order they’ll be needed in the assembly phase. See how a recipe is made not only from distinct ingredients but ingredients in precise proportion to one another. Think of these as the necessities of the particular story you want to write: How much character? How much setting or dialogue or etc. Think of the assembly instructions as the logic the plot requires. You must use the listed necessities just so to get the story you want. You work through these instructions to the letter to get something that looks like the picture of what it supposed to be. The question: when does soup become soup? When does bread become bread? Figure that out in writing, and you’ll understand the difference between plot and story.
Photo: Calum Lewis via Unsplash