Today has been… Well, do you ever have one of those days where you wake up late, can’t find your keys, get toothpaste on your shirt, finally make it to work, and then discover that you forgot to wear deoderant?

Yeah. And it only got worse from there. Work was a complete disaster. From the time I got there until the time I left, I did not have one moment of peace. My phone rang off the hook. I had to deal with two major crises. I got yelled at and did some yelling. Not a great day.

By the time I got home after running errands, the last thing I wanted to do was write. No, I wanted to put on my PJs, drink a carafe of cabernet, and hide my head in my husband’s armpit.

But I didn’t.

I eked out my one hour. It was hard, but I did it. I don’t know that I made much progress, but I know what I didn’t lose–momentum.

The moral of the story: Even on days where everything sucks and you want to pull your hair (or someone else’s) out and the only thing you want is a bubble bath and a backrub, don’t give up. Put in some time–even just five minutes. It’s good for those self-discipline muscles!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take two Tylenol and call you in the morning.

Day Four is off to a great start, with two hours of work on my writing project under my belt and no signs of stopping. Why am I so fired up today? Why am I not experiencing the same old resistance? Because I raised the stakes. I asked myself some hard questions, did some soul-searching, and figured out why this is so important to me. Here’s how you can raise the stakes for your project–all you have to do is answer one simple question.

Why are you doing this?

Easy enough, right? Not really. Allow me to demonstrate.

Why are you writing this novel? Because I want to get published.

Why? Um… well, because I want to make lots of money.

Really? You make good money now, and if you keep going in the same track at work, you’ll be making a lot more. Money doesn’t seem to make you happy. So why are you writing this novel? I want people to know my name. I want to be famous.

No, you don’t. You hate being the center of attention. It makes you feel awkward and self-conscious and invaded. You won’t even have a birthday party. So why are you writing this novel? Well, maybe I want to be appreciated for my talent. Maybe I want someone to acknowledge that I’m good at something, better than anyone else.

You get that at work now. No one else in your office can do your job. Everyone appreciates you, and they let you know it. Why are you writing this novel? Leave me alone–I don’t know! Yes, you do. Fine. I’m writing because I have a story to tell.

You have a story to tell? OK, then tell your story and put your manuscript in your night table drawer and get on with your life. I can’t do that. Why? I need people to read it.

WHY? Why are you writing this novel? Because I have something to say that people need to hear, damn it! It’s something that no one has ever said before, something unique, something that could bring a little more hope and beauty into the world. If I don’t write it, I won’t just be disappointing myself–I’ll be failing to achieve what God put me here to do. I can’t not write this novel!

Oh. Why didn’t you say so?

It’s often hard for women to conceive of ourselves as having a life-changing, world-altering purpose. (Years of marginalization will do that to a girl.) But we do, each and every one of us. That small business you’re starting? It will grow into a national corporation that will employ and empower thousands of women. That child you’re raising? She’s going to be the first human on Mars. That song you’re writing? It will keep a depressed teenager from killing herself.

Your purpose matters. Figuring out why will give you the strength and motivation to keep going when things are tough. So take a moment to think about what you’re doing and ask yourself why.

Well, it’s not even noon yet and Day 3 is already off to a great start! I woke up early and gave myself an hour or so to surf the internet. Then, at 10:00, I dove into my writing project and worked for a solid hour and a half. I’ll probably take a break for lunch and do some more writing this afternoon.

I tried something different today, and it seemed to give me quite a boost. After reading a short e-book by Devon Ellington, I decided to establish a writing ritual. Nothing too complicated–I just lit a candle and imagined that it was my “creative spark”. Then I started writing.

I think that rituals like this can help us shift out of the everyday wife/mom/worker frame of mind and into the right mindset for working on our projects. And they can work for anyone, no matter what your spiritual or religious beliefs (I’m Catholic and it worked just fine for me!).

How are you doing on Day 3?

Wow. Talk about RESISTANCE. I did NOT want to do my hour of writing today, no ma’am, I did not. Every time I sat down to write, I would be stricken with the sudden conviction that I needed to rewrite a document for work!!! Right now!!! Or I’d decide that, you know what?, I’m feeling a bit peckish. Time for a snack. Or I’d have to use the bathroom. Or I’d be overwhelmed by the need to answer EVERY OUTSTANDING EMAIL in my inbox. Or to check all my daily blogs again just in case they posted something that I really urgently needed to know.

So what H-E-double hockey sticks is going on? I mean, no one is making me do this. I desperately want to write a novel. I’m dying to write for a living. I’m living and breathing for the moment I walk into Borders and see my book, right there next to all the Stephen Kings and J.K. Rowlings. Why am I so resistant to actually doing it???

Deep breath.

I know the answer to this question. It’s fear. Fear, fear, stupid cowardly fear. Thinking and daydreaming about being a novelist isn’t dangerous. It’s very safe. But actually doing it? Well, let’s not get crazy. What if no one wants to be my agent? What if no publishers want to publish my work? What if no one reads it and I singlehandedly bankrupt Random House with my disaster of a book? What if Hollywood never wants to make it into a movie? What if…

Yes, to answer your question, I do in fact realize how ridiculous it sounds to worry–actual stomach-churning anxiety–about how my phantom book will do when I haven’t even written it yet.

That’s why, at 3:00pm this afternoon, I rolled up my sleeves and did my hour. And you know what? It felt GREAT!

(Hopefully, I’ll be back tomorrow with a Day Three update, but my hubby will be working on my site and I may not be able to post.)

Yesterday was Day 1 of my 21-day makeover (which will end on February 27). I’m happy to report that I did, in fact, spend one hour working on my novel. I was torn between starting a new project with an idea I’ve been playing around with for a few months or going back to one of the three, count ‘em–THREE, unfinished projects that are gathering electronic dust in my computer. The perfectionist in me wants–nay, needs–to finish those projects. The idea of them just laying around un-done really gets under my skin. But I’m more excited about working with the new idea. Ah, what to do, what to do…

In the end, I decided that–since this is my first 21-Day Makeover–choosing the idea I was more enthusiastic about would maximize my chances at success. And friends, I need to succeed. Successfully completing this makeover will boost my self-confidence and give me the drive I need to take on more challenging projects. Excercises like this will require willpower and self-discipline, which are kind of like mental muscles. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t been very self-disciplined over the past year or so and my self-discipline muscles are pretty flabby.

Last year was incredibly difficult. Last January, at my mother’s urging, I took the test for the breast cancer gene (every female relative on my mother’s side of the family has had breast cancer at least once). As my doctors predicted and I expected, I tested positive. They recommended that I undergo a double masectomy. I stuck my head in the sand and refused to discuss it.

Then, I got engaged in May. My fiance convinced me to see an oncologist. After getting a second and third opinion (I REALLY didn’t want to believe it), I decided to go forward with the surgery. I had a double masectomy on July 13 (Friday the 13th–can you believe it?) and the reconstruction in September. It was, to say the least, incredibly emotional and the recovery process was very difficult. I’m allergic to opiates, so no fancy painkillers for me–I had to take Tylenol and muscle relaxers and white-knuckle it as I adjusted to silicon implants wedged under my chest muscles. Miserable. 

During this time, I felt very very sorry for myself. I knew that I was lucky to great insurance, wonderful doctors, and access to a surgery that will prevent me from ever having to deal with the hell of breast cancer. But I also knew that I was 29 years old and having my breasts removed a few months before getting married. I knew I’d never breastfeed. I knew I was losing an integral part of my femininity. I knew that it hurt all the time and there was nothing I could do about it. I knew that it SUCKED.

This led me down a path I never want to travel again–the path of self-pity, rationalization, and self-indulgence. I felt like I DESERVED to have it easy for a while. I quit working out, started smoking the occasional cigarette and drinking more wine, stopped writing, and withdrew from my family and friends. Why? Because I’d been through a LOT, damn it, and I wanted a f*cking break for once. I just wanted to escape, to wallow in my misery–thank you very much.

Did it make me happy? No. Numb? Yes. But happy? No. Looking back, I wish I could tell six-months-ago Jen that what she actually deserved was good health, support from family and friends, and the exhiliration of pursuing a life’s dream.

Wow. I didn’t expect to write all that–I thought this would be a one-paragraph update on Day 1–but I feel good about it. I guess what I’m trying to get across is that, yeah–life sucks sometimes. And it seems like the first things we drop when life gets tough are our dreams. Don’t do that–put them first no matter what else comes your way. You won’t regret it.