I'm a planner. Big time. I like making long outlines before starting on my rough drafts. I like making goals for my day, my month, my year. After 27 years of this, I'm starting to wonder if planning can be a very bad thing.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I was still in the throes of the rough draft to Voodoo Queen. Being the planner I am, I made a rigorous schedule that would guarantee that the rough draft would be finished (including research) before the baby was born.
Little did I know that I would 1. Be too sick to write for a month and a half, and 2. Get so stuck on my book that I wouldn't know how to proceed. I look at my plan now and laugh, though it's a humorless laugh.
That's not to say it's impossible for my to finish by my goal. I'll never forget writing the rough draft of Fierce in 18 days. I still don't know how that happened. It was like some superhuman power came over me, a power I couldn't have predicted or planned for.
The point is, you can't make plans. Life will hit you with all kinds of obstacles, and in the meantime, you can never predict how well your muse will cooperate with you.
When I truly understood the futility of planning, another lesson settled upon me: Never procrastinate. Anything can happen tomorrow, and since life is so unpredictable, it's important to milk today for all it's worth.
Don't plan for tomorrow; you don't know what tomorrow will be. Just make today as awesome as you can.