That's a polite term for "I've fucked up and am not going to meet my goal, so I'd better change what my goal is."
The weather has been gorgeous here, and we have been getting the most out of summer: swimming, biking, playing on the playground for hours every day, going to fairs and festivals, model rocket launches and rock mines. It's been great, but I haven't had much writing time, and the time I have had I've not used wisely. I got so behind that I would have had to write 1,500 a day to finish the book by the end of the month, and then I just froze. And now I'm just too far behind to finish in 8 more days, and feeling pretty crappy about that.
STOP! I will not let this motherfucking pattern of failure/shame/avoidance defeat me once more! I hereby change my short-term goal to writing 500 words a day every day this week. Two days under my belt so far, so go me. In addition, I will spend my evenings working on preliminary revision work, like the exercises from The Fire in Fiction and all those grids from The Weekend Novelist Rewrites a Novel. I would have started August doing these things anyway, and most of them can be worked on while paying minimal attention to whatever manly-job reality show The Husband is watching on TV. And I will read, and enjoy the Olympics, and buy all The Son's stuff for Kindergarten, and keep wringing every drop from summer.
That's the new plan.