I talk to cab drivers.
I read menus at restaurants to grow my vocabulary.
I ask people I respect what books they are reading.
Every day is January 1st if you want it to be.
There is no magic in January 1st.
The day itself is just a placeholder on a calendar.
But for some reason we think it’s the only time change can start.
We launch diets and businesses and new books and new dreams thinking that’s the perfect day to launch a Do Over.
And then we get to February. The momentum of the new year has long worn off and we think we have missed our moment to really shine.
But what if today could be January 1st?
What if everyday could be January 1st?
What if you and I were bigger than a day written on a calendar?
I have already failed at perfection for this year. The streaks I started in January have sputtered a bit. I haven’t run in a week due to a cold, books I promised to read sit quietly on shelves shaming me, pants stretching queso begs me to ignore healthier snack choices.
In years gone by, this is when I would have quit. Once the bubble of perfection is burst I tend to think, “Why bother anymore? If it can’t be perfect I might has well not do it at all.”
But perfection is a poison not a potion. It always promises things it cannot deliver.
What if you aimed for finished not perfect?
That’s what I’m doing this year.
I’m not going to give up just because it’s no longer January 1st and the promise of perfection has already escaped me.
I’m done with perfect. I’m done with New Year’s Resolutions confined to the month of January.
I worked with 10,000 people last year on the 30 Days of Hustle. I watched them lose thousands of pounds (collectively, not individually; that would be bananas). I watched them build businesses. I get the books they wrote in the mail.
Sometimes I have a hard time believing change is possible. There’s sooooo much fluff online about rosy sunrises, effortless passive income and turning a frown upside down as an instant solution to your problems. (Some of this I have contributed to at times.)
But, having seen what thousands of people accomplished when they went through the 30 Days of Hustle and having met hundreds of them at meetups, I’m a believer in the power of a Do Over.
I took the content of the 30 Days of Hustle and turned it into an eBook. Trying to manage 30 days of thousands of emails was a mess and the design of the original program was non-existent. I hired a graphic designer, I hired an editor, I hustled on the content, and I love how it came out. (Here’s a peek.)
Someday, I might sell it, but for now, it’s a resource you get for free when you pre-order Do Over.
And here’s what I’m going to do.
I declare that March 1 is the new January 1st. I think you and I and the wildly supportive 30 Days of Hustle Facebook group should launch a Do Over next week.
Did you know that when you get the 30 Days of Hustle eBook you get an invite to the private Facebook group? I’m talking about 11,000 of the most encouraging people you’ve ever met cheering you on each day.
If you’re in, if you’re done with thinking change is only something that happens in January, join me and few thousand new friends.
There are only 2 Steps. 1) Pre-Order Do Over today and then 2) Fill out this form. You’ll get the free copy of the 30 Days of Hustle eBook and an invite to the private Facebook group.
Step 1: Pre-Order Do Over from any of these fine retailers
Step 2: Fill out this form.
Starting March 1, we’ll all go through the 30 Days of Hustle content day by day in the private Facebook group.
Perfection is dumb. Finished is awesome.
It’s time to hustle!
I once worked at a company that started serving dinner in the corporate cafeteria.
They announced it under the guise of convenience. “Now you can have dinner options you can bring home to your family!”
Despite the upbeat email, everyone at the company knew this was a terrible sign.
Let’s be honest, what family wants you to bring home a styrofoam container of office cafeteria spaghetti and sadness? Have you ever eaten lunch in a corporate cafeteria (that wasn’t Facebook or Google) and thought, “I wish I could have this for dinner, too! You know who would love eating this? My family!”
Every writer secretly believes in the writer’s cabin.
In our heads we see a small isolated cabin in a quiet patch of woods. There’s a porch with a swing out front. We sit on that when we need a break from all the amazing words we’ve written inside. There’s not much behind that cabin door, just a humble table like Hemingway probably used, a chair our grandfather made by hand and some sort of way to gather our words.
For some, it’s a stack of fresh, white paper and a favorite pen. Others see a typewriter that makes real clickity clack sounds with each brilliant word you capture.
The days pile up as the pages do too and we emerge from this literary sabbatical with a book and a beard. (Unless you’re a lady, the beard is not nearly as cool in your story.)
Dear person going to a job you don’t love tomorrow,
I used to hate Sunday. On the worst weeks I could feel it starting to arrive when I laid in bed on Saturday night. On the best weeks I could fight it back until the sun went down on Sunday.
But as the light changed to dark and the day got late, I couldn’t lie to myself, Monday was coming. I would go back to a job I didn’t feel called to and collect one more photocopy of my life. That’s what it felt like. As if every Monday in Atlanta was just like the last Monday and the next Monday. There wasn’t a lot of color, just grays and blacks, in the continuous cycle of commute, work, commute.
Maybe that’s you. Maybe you know what I’m talking about. Maybe it’s your husband or your friend and you need to send this post to them immediately. Regardless, here we find ourselves on a Sunday night. (Or worse yet, a Monday morning when this post will be emailed to you if you signed up for that.)
Why will this week be different? Will this Monday be less “Monday” than the last?
The simple truth is it won’t be unless you will be first. That’s the thing about Monday. Monday only knocks you over if you don’t knock it over first.
There is no career unicorn, trust me I have looked with great fervor. All there is are these two hands, these two feet and grit. Always grit.
Grit is one of those funny things you don’t seem to find until you’ve had enough Monday. Enough discouragement. Enough invisibility at a job that gave you a promotion in responsibility but not salary. A job that stole your weekends and measured your vacation days to the very minute. A job that told you one day, “You should just be glad you have a job right now.” That is garbage.
But I know a secret, friend. Want to know what it is?
This world is full of great jobs.
Ignore the reports about unemployment. Statistics are a prison if you let them be. And they’re not measuring the job you’re going to create. The one that doesn’t even exist yet. The one you’re going to dig up from deep within the Internet or create with your bare hands out of seemingly thin air. Those jobs aren’t on most peoples’ radar.
They’re on mine though. And they need to be on yours too.
Is there such thing as a perfect job? No, I do not believe in that.
But there are better jobs. Fun jobs. Dare I say amazing jobs and companies that offer them.
To people like you and people like me.
Monday is coming, perhaps it is already here. But I don’t care.
Monday is just a word on a calendar. You’re the force to be reckoned with. That’s why I wrote Do Over. You’re going to work for 40 years at a job, which means you’ll face Monday more than 2,000 times. What if we could rescue it and actually look forward to it?
Most people let Monday win, but not you.
You’re the one who is going to do something different.
Fear no Monday.