I’m a pantster. (I don’t know if pantster is even a word, but it describes me. I fly by the seat of my pants.) I can see in my mind all you wonderfully organized folks out their shaking your heads in dismay, and rightfully so. But may I just say in my defense I’ve been like this all my life, and it seems to work for me.
I’ve raised three boys and never lost one. Okay, there was one time in Phoenix that one of them got away from me into an elevator, but his cries soon led me to him. Every time the elevator doors opened i could hear him. I also managed to speak publicly for many years without totally embarrassing myself, and I even have a clean house with laundry folded right out of the dryer. I’ve traveled, managed an office, was a bookkeeper, (with books that balanced) and have written ten novels. Whatever you call my style it works for me.
Although, I’m impressed with and in awe of people who plan out every step of their project; those who know what they are going to create from the beginning all the way to the end; organized before they start. I’ve attempted to do the same, but oh how quickly I stray from the path. I don’t just stray, I color outside the lines, and go a completely different direction, I can’t tell you how many wonderful, amazing planners I’ve bought over the years and never used one of them past the first week. And yet, I somehow planned many social events including a major city- wide one. My claim to fame is the bright, neon sticky note.
I’m a pants-ter. Maybe I should have been a hippie because I tend go with the flow or it’s because I’m married to an old hippie. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Life can get a little chaotic at times, but hey I don’t need therapy for deviating from my lists. Yep, you’ve got it, I’m a pantster and a sticky note queen. The key is to stick them in places that make sense to me and that’s another story.