Apparently my approach to NaNoWriMo this year is a method known as “pantsing” it – or rather to describe more fully, doing it by the seat of my pants. I guess this makes me a “pantser”. The term “pantsing” quite accurately describes my current situation – with four days to go, I have no plans, no plot, and no characters in mind.
Let’s not pretend I’m about to prove myself as the next Ernest Hemingway – the book I churn out, if I manage to do it, will be utterly crap. Fifty thousand words worth of forgettable bilge.
I think the only things going in my favor are an almost legendary ability to both procrastinate, and daydream. If I can convince myself that I have a reason to waste time writing rubbish (as against blogging, which is kind of the same thing, but has no defensible reason), I will essentially have validated my own stupidity.
Until you really focus your efforts on procrastinating, you have no idea what you might not accomplish.