It’s been a minute. Or 306,600 minutes if you’re really counting.

Early last year, I took an in-house role as Head of Marketing for the best-selling self-help author Mark Manson. It’s been quite an adjustment from a lifetime as a freewheeling creative entrepreneur. It’s also been a welcome change, a fun growth opportunity, and most importantly (to me) a chance to work with the coolest team ever.

Actually, when Mark asked me what I most wanted—after I told him I was tired of being the face of my own brand but was still wildly excited about marketing and business and personal growth, I said—

”Honestly, I just want to be part of a team.”

Lo and behold, I am now part of an incredible team, under the benevolent leadership of another freewheeling creative, (BLESS), and not only that, but our team is growing!

Which is one of the reasons I’m writing this today.

I’m wondering if you might be the extra special unicorn we’re looking for (or, if not you, maybe you know someone who is)?

This magical unicorn role I speak of is a Course Development & Community Manager.

We’re looking for someone who can take Mark’s exceptionally researched content and turn it into actionable, results-getting courses AND love up on our online community so it’s engaged, dynamic, and a place where our audience wants to hang out.

The full details and application can be found here.
Note that applications close on January 12th at 11:59pm PST.

Funny story…
When I saw the role description for my current job I laughed and said to myself: “that’s MY job.” Overconfident? Maybe. But I wasn’t wrong because here we are.

My point is: if that’s how you feel when you read this, PLEASE APPLY.

If you get to the bottom of this job posting and feel like it was written just for YOU, it was. We need your energy and expertise, bb.

xo

Jamie

p.s. This newsletter about amazing teams would not be complete without a shout-out to Val Thinks, the lovely newsletter and website manager I have the great pleasure of working with now. She also promptly sends her Substack every week, unlike my sporadic ass.

(I say rarely, because it’s not a NEVER, it’s simply a rarity.)

This trap is the greatest pain that I see my clients, most of whom are personal brands, struggle through. They have a big desire to be all of themselves and crack a brand message that coherently expresses what they’re here to say and do, while also having a big need to efficiently sell their offerings (whether now, or in the future).

They often get stuck telling the same old story, even when they’ve outgrown it, because it’s the story that most helps them sell. That’s the problem with personal branding — once you’ve outgrown that story, it no longer feels like it fits right. Which means your vibrancy for sharing it naturally diminishes.

And I see this problem at every level of success.

Whether you’re making 6 figures or multi-millions, every personal brand eventually presses up against a moment when the container of the brand feels more like a cage you locked yourself in than a sexy and reliable vehicle that’ll drive you where you wanna go next.

And this, my friends, is when the search for what makes you (as a brand) truly different begins again.

If you’re reading this, and have a personal brand, you might relate to this. You might also relate to feeling the “ick” when you imagine trying to do it someone else’s way. You don’t really want a cookie cutter strategy, or to feel confined by yet another form of packaging you’ve neatly shoved yourself into. And looking at your competitors just underlines how much you don’t want to do what they’re doing.

Even though you KNOW you’re distinctly unique, it can feel like there’s no clear way to express it without also talking about the same crap everyone else is talking about.

And, isn’t the point of personal branding to stand out? 

To be different?

Yet, you look at the “existing options” in your industry and they kinda make you think “Ew, is that all there is? I have to choose X, Y, or Z?”

I see and hear this, from my clients, a lot.

While I can’t change the rules of marketing or sales psychology, what I can do is help you navigate this sticky place, because it IS worth navigating and there is a more reliable and solid personal brand on the other side for you. 

But the first thing we have to do in order to traverse this terrain is get honest about the fact that our obsession with being different is a huge part of the problem. Actually, it might be the whole fucking problem.

To be clear, “What makes me different?,” is a marketing problem that is highly worthy of solving – some brands spend hundreds of thousands of dollars (or more) to solve that problem. So, I’m certainly not saying that it’s an inherently bad thing to want to be different. Strategically, you should aim for that.

But for personal brands, it’s deeply, well… personal, which is the nature of how this problem becomes a sticky mess of energetic quicksand before it delivers any real value. Because the exploration of “brand identity” when your personal identity is in a state of near-constant-flux can function a lot like chasing your own tail. 

So, in an attempt to not confine ourselves inside a brand that feels too small for who we dream of becoming, we end up halting our potential growth by trying to solve the problem of “What makes me different?!”

And like I said, the underpinning issue isn’t differentiation itself. The underpinning issue is seeking a static definition of differentiation as a personal brand, when human beings are anything but static.

The salve for this (that we don’t talk about nearly enough because it sounds not-very-sexy) is that the question “What makes me the same?,” is equally worthy and important to ask as “What makes me different?”

I would even argue that sameness isn’t just as important for brand growth and sales as differentiation, it’s even more important. Let’s play this out for minute…

When you compare what you’re doing to what everyone else is doing only through the lens of trying to “Stand Out,” you miss the point of how marketing works, especially today, on the internet. Marketing is primarily about the relationship you are developing with the human beings who experience you — your content, your work, your products.

It’s not even about you. It’s about THEM. Well, it’s about both of you. But primarily them.

But focusing only on differentiation means you’re focused on you. It means you forget that there’s a single, solitary individual, having a single solitary experience (typically on their phone, occasionally elsewhere on another screen somewhere) — and then, at some point in their exploratory experience, YOU enter the frame. And when you do, you have an opportunity.

Not just to show off how different you are. But to build a world, an experience, a feeling state, and an expectation. However, when you’re stuck in your own solitary navel-gazing puzzle of “What makes me different?” you miss the opportunity to actually connect.

But that’s just one way this “differentiation” exercise gets you wrapped up in useless bullshit instead of focusing on what really matters.

I see personal brands do this ALL THE TIME– 

They will look at the messaging that “works for other people” in their industry to try to identify where their brand fits… 

… and then end up super triggered instead of strategic.

More often than not they will reject and resist what they see like a defiant teenager. 

“I’m better than that,” says the ego. I do things differently. Uniquely. Better.

Or, they try to do what everyone else is doing in their own way, and end up miscalculating who they actually are and what will work.

Sometimes this happens because they’re comparing themselves to creators and influencers who’ve built a far larger audience than them — who have put in the hard and often uncomfortable work of being who they are, in public, for years – building brand equity that even the most airtight strategy can’t compete with. 

Never forget that strategy without execution is basically just fantasy. A nice idea.

And your differentiation statement means literally nothing if you’re not expressing it through content on a regular basis.

In order to connect, you need to identify sameness with your customers. What’s relatable, familiar, desirable? And, you need to take action and actually extend some expression of yourself to start the conversation too. Doing nothing because you’re waiting for the perfect differentiator is a waste of your time and gifts.

Ultimately, differentiation leads to separation.

Which is only good in small doses, or else it will also separate you from reality and your desired customers, clients, and audience.

Sadly, I see more of the latter than the former.

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Here’s the other thing to watch out for…

Having worked with thousands of personal, creator, company, and offer brands on their messaging, marketing, and positioning — I can say that many (or most) of them ARE quite unique in their approach, voice, or perspective.

But they still fall into a fairly limited set of boxes when it comes to their industry, category, the problem they solve, or the outcome they deliver.

And that’s another place where the obsession with being ‘different’ begins to take hold and cause mayhem.

So allow me to remind you of why being THE SAME as your competitors is even better than BEING DIFFERENT because if you don’t accept this, you will absolutely continue to try to solve an impossible problem (and that’s just f*cking exhausting)...

Real, effective branding and marketing doesn’t just look at what is cool, unique, or different. It looks at what is the same.

It looks at trend projections, future forecasts, and comparative analysis.

It looks at where you FIT in the marketplace, not just where you’re so innovative and different that no one understands what you do or why they should work with you or buy your product.

It takes from the successful case studies of those who are doing THE SAME, and it finds your genuinely unique spin on what’s already working. 

Not always to be wildly different (*cough* inaccessible *cough*) – but to create content and products that will bust through the clutter enough for someone to say “Oh yeah, what does HE/SHE/THEY have to say/offer?” CLICK. LIKE. FOLLOW.

It finds the common ground – not just the differentiators – and it uses those to buoy eyeballs and cash onto your brand and into your pocket.

I know it’s hard to separate out the personal when it’s your personal brand.

But if you’re someone who has a hard time accepting what it is about you and your work that is EXACTLY like everyone else in your industry, please hear this.

If you’re more focused on PROVING your differentiation in an endless cycle of waiting for it to be just.so.good. that it never changes as YOU evolve (or the market evolves) – you’ll miss all the opportunities that present themselves along the way.

You’ll get too busy spinning in indecision, resisting content or product creation, or playing in the space of envisioning who you’ll be (someone cooler, someday) instead of being who you are (right now) to actually do your best work — which will likely be different enough without you even trying so hard!

But most importantly, when we’re more focused on STANDING OUT than being HONEST with ourselves and working with the reality of what is right in front of us, including where we fit best in the marketplace, we miss the real value we offer.

There’s a very good chance that you are a true innovator who does things differently.

But everyone, at some point, in all creative and business pursuits, has to pick a fucking lane and drive down it if they want to get anywhere.

• If you can’t compare your work to anything else out there, it’s likely more delulu than it is the next big hit waiting to be discovered.

• If you think your work or brilliance is too innovative to be replicable, it definitely won’t sell at scale.

• If you can’t tell me if your book is a memoir or a work of fiction, if you can’t decide if you’re a business coach or a spiritual mentor, if you can’t commit to going wide or deep in your marketing approach — that’s okay.

But you do have to make a choice.

Usually, when I see personal brands or creatives spinning themselves around in the tornado of “differentiation seeking” it is like 10% about strategy and 90% fear of making a choice. You can be 50% the same and 50% different. Or 90% the same and 10% different. And won’t just be “okay,” it will be for the best.

Just make the fucking choice.

Now, as someone who’s been on BOTH sides of this equation, meaning – 

• I’ve both helped hundreds of clients crack their marketing and branding code in that sweet spot of differentiation and sameness — and

• I’ve also spent way-too-many-fucking hours of my life scrolling and wading through other personal brands I admire asking “WHO TF AM I AND WTF AM I DOING AND WTF DO I HAVE TO OFFER?” I really get it. I do.

I’m a marketer *and* an artist and sometimes it’s weird to be both.

But when you realize that effectively weaving the two together is actually the best solution available, so you can navigate capitalism with your soul still intact, being DIFFERENT becomes less important than being HONEST.

Honesty can (and does) sell.

But you have to declutter it from all of your personal hang-ups before it can.

You have to see (and love) your SAMENESS as well as your DIFFERENTIATION.

You have to accept that branding YOU will always feel more complex than branding something like a hair dryer that was built to do its job in 60 seconds.

After all, you’re not a f*cking hair dryer.

xx

Jamie

I keep writing headlines and deleting them, like I’m playing a game with the part of my brain that knows how to write great hooks and wants to use my marketing skills to keep this newsletter enticing and interesting…

But the truth is that I have a lot to share and I don’t quite know where to begin…

I suppose addressing the OBVIOUS changes is as great a place as any…

If you’ve been on my mailing list or been following me for a long time, you may notice that this NEWSLETTER is in a NEW FORMAT.

Yep, I’ve migrated my entire mailing list over to SUBSTACK to consolidate all of my writing into one simple place.

I’m going to be sharing things here like poetry, personal writing, life updates, as well as insights on branding, marketing, writing, and the creative process. 

I know my emails are a little sporadic, but if at any point you don’t want to receive emails from me just go ahead and hit the unsubscribe button below or reply to this email and let me know and I will unsubscribe you myself, no problem!

As far as what I’ve been busy with…

• I’ve moved to San Francisco to be with my beloved full-time,

• I’m in an expansive creative moment of life, and…

• I’ve accepted an in-house Head Of Marketing position.

OMG JAMIE?! You’re going in-house? 

Yep, it all happened fairly quickly and magically to be honest but the short version is – it was a passing thought that manifested into a dream job within 30 days.

For those who are curious about what this means (especially if you’ve been considering working with me and have been waiting for the right time) –

I will still… 

• offer branding, marketing, and writing consulting services on a limited basis (I have a waitlist now so if you want in on it, just let me know),

• co-lead The ELIXIR Writing Retreat this October (FYI: super cute private glamping yurts are still available).

There are so many emotions that I am still processing about all of these changes. It is a lot of new at once, and a lot of old identities are dying.

But here’s how I’m navigating it…

I am reminding myself regularly that I am the creator of my own reality, that I succeed the most by leaning into where I’m guided one step at a time, and that by surrendering into what I most desire season-to-season, I am living my best, most creative, and fully expressed life.

Change is the nature of life, and saying goodbye to old versions of both life and self to make space for new blessings is the most worthy growing pain.

Not just for you, but for the lives who are impacted by you.

I appreciate you for being on this journey with me, and again if you want to unsubscribe, you can reply to let me know or do so in one-click below!

Create like you mean it,

Jamie

My favorite almond milk from my most beloved juice spot in L.A. had rapidly turned into a two toned liquid: white milky substance on top and clear cloudy water on the bottom with white pixel-looking specks floating throughout. It reminded me of every nut butter jar I’ve ever read in my very long life of enjoying nut butter:

“Separation is natural.”

Only this time, those words slammed into my rib cage like an awakening tidal wave. I’d never have guessed that watching my almond milk disperse itself into liquids and solids would be the teacher I needed today.

I’d just gotten home from a morning girl date with one of my besties.

Moments prior, I was enjoying the twenty minute drive home down Beverly Boulevard, staring at palm tree after palm tree against the backdrop of a bright blue sky and white fluffy clouds. 

It was a familiar sight, a soothing and nourishing one, as these drives across town tend to give my soul exactly what she needs. 

Sometimes that looks like sad reality checks witnessing the stark contrast of tent villages on one block and a gaggle of perfectly clad almost-influencers meandering their way in and out of Erewhon on the next. 

Sometimes that looks like inspiration, as the perfect solution to any story or business problem would drop in like lightning while I’d peer out the windshield at whatever lay ahead of me, blasting my favorite music of the moment and unabashedly staring at folks, wondering about their stories, their days, their professions, or who was waiting at home for them.

I was driving along in my usual routine, taking it all in, in the afterglow of seeing my girlfriend when it hit me – soon, this will all be a memory. 

These familiar drives, these ritualistic dates with friends, these palm trees, even this fucking almond milk.

I’d moved back to L.A. five years ago to follow my intuition, my heart, and where my body was leading me – but my mind certainly had ideas about what I was doing here. My ego did too. 

I thought I was coming, in part, to get my screenwriting career back on track. 

Instead, I found myself navigating a heart wrenching uncoupling with a soulmate that was near-immediately followed by his death at only 31 years old, followed by COVID slamming industry doors shut and halting the tendrils of momentum that had just started rapidly sprouting in my creative career. 

Looking back on these last five years, it’s been a time of so much loss, so much devastation, and so many big questions about the truth of what really matters. I know the last few years have been that way for lots of folks, many questions, much change, and boatloads of uncertainty, especially for creatives.

And, what’s also true, is that this chapter has brought me blessings on blessings, the deepest healing, the most love, the greatest friendships, and way more inspiration than one lifetime can hold.

I wrote my heart out. I created dream projects. I built community. I fell in love.

Yet, trying to hold onto all of it, at one time, forever, would be a denial of the truth of life: 

That separation is natural. 

That bottles can only hold so much content, even when their parts separate. That all things that are natural must cope with the reality of their shelf life. That all things have an expiry date. 

And that, naturally, there comes a time when two ingredients can no longer commingle, and separation will occur.

Truly moving with life, and where life is leading us, means accepting this.

Separation is natural for all mortal things – separation from previous versions of your life, from people, places, and things you love, and, eventually, from your body too. 

I’d consented to this separation, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

My partner and I recently agreed to end our yearlong chapter of long distance, and move in together, which means I’ll be moving to San Francisco. 

I had waited monthsssss (emphasis on the plural here) for us to finally settle on a plan and here it was! My first response to this long awaited plan was relief. 

Then, slowly, slowly, I began to feel excitement.

And then I was sobbing in my car driving down Beverly Boulevard with my favorite almond milk in hand, clutching the wheel as I took in the trees and the sun and the joy of having spent my morning with a dear friend who is like family to me. One moment, excited and grateful, the next, tears.

Let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like wiping dripping snot and tears from your face while navigating a left turn onto Highland Boulevard.

Separation is natural.

I understand the privilege of facing a loss that comes as a result of walking into a blessed next chapter, by choice. 

Because life-changing loss and grief has indelibly marked my soul twice now, swooping in rapidly and unexpectedly.

So often, loss arrives without any warning or agreement and wipes away all that we know without any promise of what comes next.

This time, I was privileged to weep tears of loss as a result of choosing what’s next.

When I think about moving in with my partner, my heart tingles with a joy I can’t begin to express in words. 

It is the most right, true, easy, and incredible relationship of my entire life. He is, in ways I’ve barely begun to articulate, an answered prayer.

And my heart aches that saying yes to this means the end of this life I’ve been living in L.A., which, while full of challenge and grief and frustration and pain, has also been a dream come true.

I’m just an artsy girl from Queens, NY. I never thought I’d be taking pitch meetings as a screenwriter and getting as far as I’ve gotten, even if my progress was stunted by life’s plot twists.

I never thought I’d be attending events and enjoying cozy dinners with like-minded creatives, actors, writers, directors, producers who are living life with honesty and presence, thriving by the grace of G*d, patching together multiple jobs, projects, and businesses, while also living their wildest dreams.

My 14-year-old self would do backflips (and probably fall, because I quit gymnastics at 6-years-old) to know that this is the life I somehow walked myself into.

It certainly has not gone as planned. But the fullness with which my life has taken shape is nothing short of miraculous. 

I have a community and friendships that some people go their whole lives without. And, to kiss this chapter goodbye and fully embrace the next one means sitting in the loss of that.

It means fully feeling it.

It means letting the tears flow.

It means creating space to honor what was, with gratitude and reverence.

And raging at what wasn’t, with all the fire in my belly.

It means letting myself be heavy, and tired, and sad.

It means taking the time and taking the rest.

That is the cost of saying no, so you can say yes.

For a long time, I clung to the idea of never leaving LA for my relationship because my body couldn’t let go yet. She said to me “I’ve lost enough, I can’t take anymore.” But the truth is – she can, and she will.

That’s the thing about fully opening your arms to all that you want.

It requires choice, which requires loss. 

It requires risk, which makes loss possible.

A couple of years back, I did a talk about “How To Overcome The Fear of Failure,” because my opinion is that the key is truly getting good at grief.

In other words, getting good at losing.

We ALL lose in this life. We lose every day. We lose every time we set a boundary with ourselves or others. We lose every time we choose one thing over another. Some people don’t feel these micro losses, but they are still there and they certainly add up. 

I truly believe that the inevitability of loss is a big reason humans avoid making firm decisions, even small ones, for so long.

Perhaps they simply don’t trust themselves (or the deity of their choice) to reinvent themselves on the downside, if there is a downside. 

Perhaps they don’t trust themselves to rise again, even after they’ve done it a million times before.

But when you fully trust yourself to lose, and be okay, there’s nothing you can’t do – win or lose, succeed or fail, love or let go of.

Your relationship with life is deeply carved by your relationship with loss. 

• You can’t have a relationship with receiving if you don’t have a relationship with letting go. 

• You can’t have a relationship with winning if you don’t have a relationship with losing. 

• You can’t have a relationship with love if you don’t have a relationship with loss.

Dancing with life means dancing with loss, and I’m continually surprised by how much this gets glazed and glossed over in the “self-help” space.

Many self-help influencers talk about “expansion” as if we, as human beings, are solitary balloons meant to expand our capacity to hold more and more and more and then, maybe we’ll get so big in our capacity to receive that we’ll become giant hot air balloons, and, as we float bigger and higher, then we can look down on all the other smaller balloons below us. After all, they’re “down there,” because they haven’t “expanded” yet.

But the true trick of capacity isn’t just about more (especially not at the expense of your truth or humanity), it’s about letting go of all the stuff that takes up space which does not bring you closer to the G*d within you and the spirit of life itself. Releasing emotions, relationships, beliefs, belongings, old traumas, and sometimes even a city that feels like home.

Because you can’t move to the next chapter of life, or change your reality, without letting go of the one you’re currently clinging to.

That’s simply the nature of things. Separation.

Los Angeles has been my soul home.

This city held me as I became the woman who can take these next steps in life with groundedness, softness, presence, and love.

This city loved me when my world shattered and I (then, we all) scrambled to find love and meaning and hope again on this ravaged earth.

This city believed in me when I stopped believing in myself.

It’s not been perfect, nothing ever is. 

But that is the thing about being human.

Separation is natural. Expiry dates come.

When we resist that truth, all we're really fighting is ourselves.

May you stay brave enough to face the losses that will lead you to your next best step.

I love you,

Jamie 

p.s. Yes, I do have more series installments on the earlier part of my love story and I’ll loop back to that series soon. Stay tuned :)

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Plenty of people hunger to know. Millions and millions, actually. In 2022, the Psychic Services Industry clocked an estimated $2.2 billion in the U.S. market alone.

That’s a whole lot of people wanting to know what’s next, what things mean, what their spirit guides say, and what will happen.

But not everyone wants to know what’s next or what’s coming.

Some folks would prefer not to — believing they’ll worry, fixate, or sabotage what they learn is on its way. Others believe that knowing something is coming to you means you’ll make it manifest by implanting the idea in your cognition.

Others will never seek this kind of knowledge, believing you can’t know.

As for me?

I know what I know. And I knew he was right. “He” being my astrologer, Jade, who’d just told me it was time for me to have a counterpart reading.

This type of astrological counterpart reading (a.k.a. Navamsa reading) is often used for marriage predictions and even matchmaking. It uses your chart to read and identify your romantic counterpart, your #1 soulmate.

But when Jade told me it was time, I immediately agreed. Because I was hungry for knowledge, and peace, and because I already knew that the time for me to meet someone special, someone different, was coming.

I mean, I’d already spent the first part of the year preparing for him.

At the time, I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing.

But looking back, that’s exactly what I was doing.

Because you can’t receive what you’re not open to.

And I didn’t just want to receive love, or a boyfriend.

I wanted to receive a love like no other I'd ever experienced before.

I wanted to receive the kind of love I’d imagined as a little girl, dreaming up my future in my tiny little room, drawing pictures of lovers kissing and holding hands, practicing smooches on the back of my hand.

I was born a lover.

And I knew I had a counterpart out there, somewhere — one whose love would feel as potent as the love I felt towards myself before the world taught me that loving myself was a shameful act, and that I wasn’t worthy of it.

The truth is that whether it was me doing it, or me surrendering to what I needed to do — matters less than what happened:

Because every step along this path has been critical.

And it’s my belief that being in the mystery of it all is part of what made the magic possible. You can’t 10-step your way into the love of your life. But you can clear the obstacles in the your path that would prevent you from receiving it, when it arrives.

So I made a big gesture of devotion, by following what my intuition said.

Long before that counterpart reading had even been offered by my astrologer, I had made a decision to cut ties with ALL the men in my life who were painful distractions from the real thing.

I eliminated from my life all forms of addictive, obsessive, fantasy, or filler love.

And this wasn’t easy. It was gut wrenching at the time. So, to help me honor this challenging commitment to myself, I joined a program so I wouldn't have to face my old habit-patterns alone.

Part of the program (The No-Man Diet with Kendra Cunov) was a guided visualization.

I believe the intention of this visualization was to help us understand our “why” for being in the program at all. Help us hear it and clarify it. I never get linear answers during experiences like this, but I always trust the breadcrumbs I do get and the next place it leads me.

Naturally, I don’t remember everything about my journey through that visualization – but I do remember the most significant part.

I remember seeing myself in an open field, totally and completely free.

Once there, I was offered a signpost around my journey to this most beautiful love.

The signpost was “pink roses.”

“It will feel like pink roses.”

That was all I knew when I stepped into the year 2021, the year I became available for a love like no other.

Part 3 coming soon…

xo

Jamie

“Yeah?” I asked, masking my enthusiasm to know EVERYTHING. 

My heart was admittedly still tender, having gone through one of the greatest losses of my life two years prior. 

My soulmate, Rob, had passed away from cancer just three short months after his diagnosis. He transitioned from a body I could touch and hold, laugh with and talk to, to a foul-mouthed spirit guide just six months after we’d broken up.

We spoke every day. Every day until his last. The day he died, my heart turned into what felt like freshly wet bubble gum – unstable and unable to stick to anything.

My two years of casual (highly irresponsible) dating felt like a window shade slowly closing. I’d had plenty of fun romps with plenty of hot men. One that would drive halfway across Los Angeles in his yellow convertible to meet me at a carwash to say hi, pick me up, and spin me around in the air like a princess. One that would offer to watch the 4th of July fireworks with me on his roof where we’d get the best view. One that would walk into my birthday pool party, dressed in a muscle tee with a unicorn printed on it, carrying a large gift with a bow on top. 

Most of these flings had ended in miniature dumpster fires – ‘cause that’s what happens when one party (hi, it’s me) is unable to really attach, and also unwilling to communicate how she really felt, and also also throwing darts of blame to deflect from the truth of how fucked up I felt – 

It did get better over time. I got better over time.

But apparently, now it was time for a man to enter my life, and stay. 

And I felt it.

This is not to say that I didn’t wish for that kind of love the whole time I was writhing in the wake of life-shattering trauma. I was, BELIEVE ME I WAS.

I fantasized about it all the time, which was a wonderful way to dissociate from the pain of accepting that healing takes time, and that I was in the middle of a process that couldn’t be rushed. But the truth that lived in the darkest corners in me, the space underneath the part of me that wanted so desperately to reach towards the future I couldn’t yet touch – was that Rob was dead, and I’d never be the same again.

But here, here was hope. A counterpart reading! A future! Not from my own addiction to a near-constant stream of fantasy, but because it was written in the fucking stars!

“Yes,” he said, then adding “I don’t give these readings to everyone.”

“Not everyone will meet their counterpart in this lifetime. But these cycles are opening for you, and it’s time.”

Now, you can pause to have your opinion here about whatever you believe when it comes to astrology, spirituality, and the power of the unseen. I’m NO astrologer. But I’ve been talking to dead people since before I could actually talk, and I’ve learned to stop living in denial of the mysteries of life that the strictly scientifically evidence-bound overculture would prefer we ignored.

So it also comes as no surprise to me (now) that my work lives right on the edge of this veil – that line between living and dead, idea and actualization, confrontation and acceptance, death and rebirth. I’m not a researcher, I’m a woman with a gift of seeing and hearing the energetic central pulse of a thing, clarifying it into more potent life, and nurturing it into a fuller expression of its true season.

This was always my destiny, whether I resisted it, or not.

Luckily, I no longer resist it, and the depth of my knowing isn’t something I waste time questioning anymore. When I’m connected to it, it is practically limitless. So when I asked that part of me — that DEEPLY knowing part of me — whether I wanted to have a counterpart reading, and know all that Jade had to share with me, it was a no-brainer yes, because I already knew.

“Okay,” I said to him, ready for the adventure.

Part 2 coming soon…

It felt expansive and enlightening and good to ask that question. It felt like a fun question for someone to answer that showcases their values and interests and desires. It also used to feel like an insightful way into exploring challenges or desires, to ask ‘Well, if money weren’t a thing, what would you choose?’

But, I’ve stopped recording the podcast and also stopped asking that question. 

Here’s why…

Maybe it’s life, maybe it’s healing, maybe it’s perspective, maybe it’s inflation, or maybe it’s that I am becoming a more mature 40-year-old woman very soon, but I’m not expanded by this question anymore.

In my journey of burning down a business and examining my relationship with capitalism, productivity, accomplishment, and worth through the lens of trauma and addiction – I discovered a few things about what money means (and doesn’t) to me.

As an artist, this feels especially important. It’s why I started the Creatives Making Money podcast in the first place. 

Creative folks need ALL the reminders that it’s not a pie-in-the-sky dream to make an incredible living off of your genius work. And – it’s okay if you have creative projects that are soul fulfilling even if they’re not paying the bills. And – everything in between.

I started the Creatives Making Money podcast back in 2017 and since then, a lot has changed. TikTok! “The Creator Economy!” Substack! — this very platform that you’re reading this article on! And, while I’m grateful I got to have some important conversations around some very real issues, topics, and concepts related to money and being a creative human – I’ve begun to further heal and detach myself from the core wounding that led me there in the first place.

But the real reason I’m no longer fulfilled by having this conversation?

No matter how you slice it, there’s only ever a very (very) small percentage of the population who have seemingly unlimited amounts of money, and even for them, money is a “problem.”

It’s just a different kind of problem. 

The more I look at it, the more I see that asking questions like “Well, what if money weren’t a thing?” deny the actual truth of real life in the hopes of achieving an otherwise unavailable understanding of oneself. 

The concept itself is a good one, like if we can pretend we have access to unlimited resources at any given moment (we do, our energy and gifts are the resource), then we get to ask ourselves bigger questions. 

But the truth is: no matter how good you are at “pretending,” the reality of most decisions is that we really don’t know until we’re faced with the situation in real life. You don’t know how “it” feels until you’re really inside the experience.

You can’t reveal the truth by using imaginary circumstances.

Because your present moment reality is where the truth (and magic) really lives. Not in any alternate reality.

For example, today, I live in Los Angeles and my partner lives in San Francisco. 

If I had $5MM just lying around, or dropped in my lap, I’d want to buy a place in San Francisco and keep my place in Los Angeles for as long as I wanted to. 

I’d fly back and forth as much as I wanted to. I’d worry less about the financial consequences of uprooting my life to move to a new city, or having an entire wardrobe, or nice furniture, in two different cities. At least, that’s what I think.

I don’t really know because this isn’t my reality.

And, the thing is: I’d love to believe that I’d use that money to do something really good in the world (and I’m sure I would, for some of it). But the truth is, I’d start by using it to make my life more convenient, to solve my own immediate problems, and then I’d find my way back to service, as I always do, regardless of money circumstances. 

Lots of people felt compelled to virtue signal their way through that $5MM question on my podcast, but the truth is: most of the time, the “cause” was the last thing on their list. And that’s OK.

What I’ve learned about myself by stepping away from business for almost half of a year, was that what I wanted wasn’t to build or create excessively, or save the world with some kind of virtue signaling life switch – 

I just wanted more time to be human. 

To rest. And play. And have fun. And spend more time with friends and family.

I wanted to do all the things that I typically have to work harder to “squeeze in” when I’m working full time.

Also, I started missing my clients and work pretty immediately!

But, I wanted to watch for any workaholic habits, so I held my commitment to myself and didn’t market or sell for three months. I finished two tv pilots, moved to a new apartment, and met the love of my life. 

As a result of taking that time, I understand way more about my work in the world. I understand more about emotional sobriety, presence, and moving with the truth of the moment. 

My first paid project post-sabbatical was a Brand Story Realignment for a big international yoga brand. And it was a DREAM. My second paid work project was a coaching program for other creative humans on allowing themselves and their work to slowly Bloom. (My templates and previous writing projects also yielded me money during my sabbatical, but that was residual income.)

Brand storytelling and coaching wasn’t what I expected to WANT to do. Because the story I’d made up, as I so often did, was that – if I were given the space to JUST write all day, that’s all I’d do.

I made up that if I gave myself permission to do nothing for a few months, I’d want to “work” less and “write” more. 

But I was wrong.

I learned that all I wanted to do was all I was already doing.

I learned that the way I strike my balance with client work and creative work is actually entirely perfect already.

I learned that I’m not missing anything by wanting to do all that I do – and allowing myself to do all of it.

As a result, I stopped fantasizing about a life where I had more “freedom” to do ALL I COULD DO as a writer.

This surprised me, deeply, but it also healed something inside me.

For years, I’d hosted the Creatives Making Money podcast. I’d made it part of my brand and mission and message to support other artists and creatives in overcoming their money stories and monetizing their gifts. 

And I never will stop, not really. They’re my soul family, truly.

But there was a brand story there that was ready to leave me – because I was ready to let it go. And that story hinged on the tension between being a creative person and making a good living. It was about holding the reality of work that pays bills vs work that IS art and a soul project.

In holding my stance on that, for myself, I became a leader on that topic.

I coached others on it. I coached copywriters and other writer-preneurs. I led money workshops and business retreats. I had a LOT of conversations about money. But in doing so, I also chose to make my story about this singular tension point: making money as a creative.

As if these two things are, or ever were, at odds with each other.

When the truth is: it IS the most freely creative humans who are making money with their genius. It IS the ones who unleash their greatest gifts boldly and bravely, who know how to encapsulate and express their value, who do the hard and vulnerable work of putting themselves out there, again and again — who yield the most returns.

I love business, branding, and marketing. I really do. I’ll serve with all my might in these arenas for other soulful, playful, and intelligent entrepreneurs.

But more recently, I don’t feel identified with the tension point of Creatives Making Money and I’ve fully lost my mojo for it. Yes, it is HARD to be an artist and hold space for loads of unpaid creative labor on soul projects that are worthy of far more attention and acclaim than you may ever receive for them. But it’s hard to do that, no matter what. 

If you really want to do it, if it’s really true for you, you will find a way to do it anyway. You will find the support, you will create the space, you will make it happen.

What I’ve learned I will always do, regardless of how much money I make and have…

• gather community.

• create in community.

• collaborate with other artists and creators.

• develop stories.

• bring projects to life.

• cook.

• cuddle.

• mother.

• have a lot of fun.

• dance.

• express myself.

• share stories and lessons.

• lift weights.

• tend to life.

• find the right ways to give back.

• go to yoga.

• love up on my people.

• pray, meditate, and commune with spirit.

But I will no longer be asking the questions “if money weren’t a thing,” because money IS a thing, and as a result so is capitalism, and business, and branding, and marketing, and the necessity of commodifying yourself. 

Which brings me to this ultimate question, and the central crux I’m now in exploration of, which is:

If we have to commodify ourselves, can we make that expression ART?

Can we make it true? Can we make it beautiful?

Can we make it the highest impact, most stunning, memorable, nuanced work of brilliance we’ve ever seen?

What I’m finding out is: YES.

And, I’m also discovering that there is so much data to support it.

So… I will continue to stand at the crossroads of commerce and art.

I will continue to love my fellow artists and creators.

I will continue to champion their expansion and expression in all the ways.

And I will help them bring their brand and business and soul project dreams into reality.

But it won’t be in spite of money, in some idealistic vision for a world without capitalism, it will be because of it. 

It will be because, only by standing in what is true today, are we actually able to make the most powerful impact. 

xo

Jamie

It was like kissing a mannequin. Or a doll. Except it wasn’t. It was the man I fell in love with. The man I moved in with. The man I fought with. The man I resented. The man I desperately needed. The man I cried for and ran to and held every night through our break up. Only a few months had passed since then and suddenly, here we were, in a funeral home – him, a stiff in a coffin, and me, sorting through the pieces of reality as I knew it. I could still smell him on my bedsheets if I breathed deeply enough. This was my Robert. But now, he’s gone.

What became of me in the wake of that loss was something I don’t wish on anyone. As healed and integrated and newly in love again as I am, I am still this woman. This woman who is always keenly aware that horror is a possibility that lives right around the corner. My father’s death was even more shocking and sudden and gruesome. I was only twenty when I witnessed that one. I’ll spare you those details, for today.

But what became of me as a result of losing Robert? It’s a type of sensitivity and strength that can only come from a trauma like this one.

—

I got really angry this week, really angry.

While I continue to adjust to my new “unrepresented” life since parting ways with my manager, I’ve had to schedule meetings with the producers I’ve been working with. Essentially, I have to make a decision about continuing with them or not. I have to review all of my projects and consider the new possibilities ahead for them. I have to take back all the labor of a "manager” and do it for myself.

It reminded me, vaguely, of how it feels when you have to find an outfit to wear to a funeral. It’s awful. It’s not something you “want” to do. It’s not pleasant. It’s just, what needs to be done. You certainly didn’t ask anyone to die, but because they went and died anyway (like the selfish jerks they are) NOW you have to find a f*cking outfit? Really? As if life isn’t asking enough of you already? 

But that’s grief, baby! *jazz hands here* 

Anger is always the first layer. Anger says “this isn’t fair.” Anger says “this can’t be real.” Anger says “f*ck this, all of it.”

But if you wait, and patiently peek right underneath the surface of anger, you’ll uncover the true tenderness and tears.

You’ll find the fear, and the sadness, and the longing.

Which is how I found myself, on Wednesday morning of last week, weeping in my car after leaving the gym. (Don’t worry, I was still parked in the lot.) Tears just springing out of my eyes like the character Sadness from Inside Out. I mean, they were literally jumping out of my eyes, almost as if to their death. Like they couldn’t get out fast enough. 

Eventually, the wave crashed, and passed, and before I knew it, I was back at home – face-planted on my fuzzy living room rug, feeling held by the beautiful web of women in my life while the sads gently moved through me.

And, as they left, what happened next shocked me.

I felt immense peace, space, and calm — an opening. And then, almost faster than I wanted it to arrive, I felt the strong pull of DESIRE.

Vision. Knowing. Direction.

And I heard the instructions, loud and clear. 

DIRECT. 

“I’m sorry, what was that, inner voice of all-knowing wisdom or possibly just a deep, personal desire wrapped in spiritual overtones? What did you say?”

DIRECT.

“Wait, sorry, I thought you said ‘DIRECT’. But, you know I’m a writer. And, like, that’s what I do. I WRITE.”

DIRECT.

“Okay. Is this thing on? G-d? Do you… have a bad connection?”

DIRECT!!!!

“F*CKING CHRIST, OKAY! I HEARD YOU. YOU DON’T HAVE TO SHOUT!”

Apparently, I do, Jamie. You resistant little creatrix, you.

“Ugh.”

Also, you’re not just a writer. You won an award for a film you also directed.

“OMG STOP.”

—

I opened my screenplay about losing my soulmate with a funeral scene.

I also opened my novel with that scene. It’s where the adventure really begins. 

What I never expected to feel was a desire to direct it, myself. Yet, the moment I heard it, I knew it was true. Because this is not just any project. It’s not just any story. It’s this strange and funny tale I’ve woven through the portal that grief kicked open. It’s this deeply and essentially and authentically female story of holding every reality and possibility and person at once. It’s this oddly dark comic fantasy romance – this project that I couldn’t bring myself to shop, YET.

Because, this one — is too much mine.

And trust me, when I heard the call and felt the pull to direct, I really wanted to tuck it back inside my brain and say “NAHHHHH, I’m gonna pass on this one.”

You ever get a CLEAR laser beam of creative energy that’s asking you to move, and then your human body is like: “OKAY, BE COOL. PRETEND YOU DIDN’T HEAR THAT SO YOU CAN STAY IN THE COMFORT ZONE.”?

That’s how I feel. Like I’d really prefer NOT TO FKN DO THIS.

But, in the deepest recesses of my soul, it’s the truest desire —

To continue developing this project, as a director and writer and producer.

So, I’m going to write a short version of this project this year. A snippet. A peek into the world, if you will. Then, I’m going to raise the funds. Then, I’m going to make the damn thing. And then, I’m going to direct it. At least, that’s how I think it’s going to go, lol. My job isn’t to do all of that, today, it’s to take the first step — which is fully accepting that this desire is here, and, letting it fully be here.

It is fully accepting that grief lives in this space with me, and always will.

It’s fully deciding to be the hero of my own adventure.

It’s fully owning where bliss is moving me — enough to share it with you.

And, as for you… well, I hope you’ll come along for this ride.

xo

Jamie

Share Scribe + Spirit with Jamie Jensen

I say “hard” because, like all transitions, it comes with grief and reflection, and requires space for integration. But life is full of multiple things being true at once.

What is also true is there is new life on the precipice of being born.

Last week, I talked about the concept of “containers” and how we need them to thrive and feel safe in the world. 

Today, the concept of a “container” is everyday language to me, but that wasn’t always the case. 

The first time I learned about the concept of a container was from John Kim, also known as The Angry Therapist. John explains that healthy relationships are “safe containers,” or at least he did back when I would devour his books. I was probably about 27 years old at the time, and I was definitely struggling with attachment issues (which, spoiler alert, online self-help does not heal for you). 

Fast forward almost 13 years, and I’ve since been in a multitude of coaching containers and programs, worked with various therapists in the container of therapy, and held many of my own containers for programs and clients.

I’ve also practiced various forms of energy work, including feminine and masculine energetics and embodiment with a handful of incredible teachers – Kendra Cunov and Perri Chase to name a couple of deeply influential ones — and I consider myself a lifelong student.

In terms of the principles of feminine and masculine energetics, the feminine is generally the formless, the wild, the chaotic, the expressive – it is the unknown, the uncertain, the electric, the boundless. The masculine energetic is generally the form, the structure, the bounds, the container – the one who holds.

And, in an internal family system dynamic (this would be the tiny family that lives inside your psyche), the one who holds is the parent.

There’s a whole post in me about how both of these things being true is the crux of the problem with feminine and masculine polarity teachings through the lens of attachment and trauma – but that’s not the post I’m writing today. 

The post I’m writing today is about what it means to build your own container, especially as an artist, writer, entrepreneur, and visionary.

Because there are many types of containers one needs to execute their work in the world.

And, as I personally walk myself through a rebirthing process, it’s occurred to me that –

When we create a BRAND for ourselves, we are building a container.

We are creating the form within which our work will be expressed.

The BRAND becomes the body, and our work is the soul.

This is why, the moment when our business, brand, or project no longer feels true for us, the container no longer works. This isn’t just about what works for marketing and sales – it’s about what works for YOU.

There are plenty of branding strategies out there that can work for looking cool, sexy, and unique – but are they also TRUE for you? 

Do they fit?

Because if they don’t – something will feel itchy, contracted, too small, too big, too vague, or not “aligned.”

Naturally, this can also be true for jobs, work relationships, romantic relationships, friendships, and projects. When the container doesn’t work – it typically needs to be dismantled or reimagined (sometimes both).

As someone who’s personally ripped apart my own brands, businesses, and projects about every four years to rebirth the next container for work, I really understand this process, and what it takes to burn it all down and rise again, like a Phoenix. 

Someone with a linear mindset might look at that and think “but what’s her ‘forever’ answer?” Her ‘forever’ plan? If she keeps burning it down and rebuilding, then when will she finally find the “solution?” But that mindset would be operating from a belief of “one-way-ism” — the belief that the purpose of reinventing yourself is to finally find “the ONE WAY” instead of accepting that we are iterative creatures who are constantly shedding old ways of being.

The truth is: you don’t need a forever container – you just need the container that’s right for your next adventure.

This is true at every level of business and creativity.

Rebranding happens frequently at all levels of business – and being an artist means being a personal brand too.

If you didn’t know me back in 2021, I ended the year with a business bonfire, and promptly shut down all of my offers and programs. Multiple 6-figures of annual revenue went POOF. 

I wanted to let it all go and really dig into what wasn’t working.

Not for the business, but for ME. 

And, on par with the very human need to know and explain, I had plenty of “reasonable” projections and stories about why I was doing it. Most of those reasons were partly right because many things can be true at once. 

When people use the term “both sides of the coin,” I have to laugh, because my coin doesn’t have two sides. It has, like, twenty sides and they ALL provide good, convincing stories. I can never point to one reason for why and how I do things.

Well, actually – that’s a lie. 

The truest reason is usually– I feel it, I know it, or I want it. 

But, like many of us who were programmed to be “good,” and “smart,” when I feel pressured by the very socially acceptable question of “why?” and “what’s next?” – I will try to tell “a complete story.”

The fact is there is never ONE complete story. There are several. 

And they’re all true!

Why we do anything as human beings is usually to evolve, to grow, and to make space for what’s next, but how could we possibly ever know what’s next before it arrives in our life?

What matters most isn’t why you do something or even what happens as a result; it’s what gets to be built in the space that you create by making a choice you’re willing to stand behind. 

Even if you have no idea WHAT that will be when you’re choosing.

We often make the mistake of thinking that any given choice has “serious” consequences when in reality, it matters far less than we think. 

There are a few exceptions to this, obviously… like who you marry, if you’ll have children, whose children you’ll have, etc. But, beyond massive life choices like these, we are always able to make different choices, and therefore: adjust and adapt accordingly.

Me and my “big decisions” are a beautiful case in point. It felt like a massive decision to shut down all my revenue streams and take a break.

At the time, I really judged my own decision as ‘insane,’ but what I learned was that what I truly feared most?

Was my own internal punishment.

I was MOST afraid of making myself suffer. 

That was my actual worst fear. I wasn’t afraid of having less money. Or even of what other people had to say. The real problem was that I hadn’t created my own safe container. I hadn’t cultivated my own internal safe and sacred masculine energy, I hadn’t made consistent contact with my own inner loving parent…

I didn’t have “the one who holds” to lovingly hold the truth of my expression and exploration. 

I was still – deep down – punishing myself. No matter what.

You know what this does? 

It keeps you wound up in a very small box. 

In September of last year, after about 9 months of exploration and experimentation and healing – I finally felt the pull to begin recommitting to my business as a BRAND.

I hired my dear friend Hillary Weiss Presswood to be my creative visionary reflector, and I dumped all of my messy thoughts, feelings, ideas, and 20 coins of truth into our process. The clarity began to unfold, but it still took me another six months to keep listening to the quiet whispers, waiting for the “click” of vision to drop in for me, and taking tiny steps to bring in more visual translators to help me create what I was seeing.

That’s the thing when you’re a visionary and seer – you can’t rush the right moment, answer, or “thing” – you simply have to let it unfold by following that golden thread of magic, of truth, of “YES.”

It usually doesn’t make sense, particularly not to the previous version of you.

But when you step back and see it all in the big picture – it will be the most intelligent decision you ever made.

As a coach, I’ve worked with hundreds of writers and entrepreneurs on their brands, businesses, and projects to help them engineer their visions into reality.

And I’ve been repeatedly asked how I “always win,” by clients of mine, how I use my “feminine magic,” and how I find the exact right words to encapsulate their brand story DNA – the thing that makes them stand out – in a *snap*

And the truth is – it’s this.

It’s creating space for the unknown to lead me, and it’s allowing the container I build to hold space for that, instead of trying to control it all the time.

Do I have other practices? Of course. Do I have other tools for this? Yes.

More to come on this for sure.

But, while I’ve become masterful at listening to my intuition and following the golden thread above ALL else, and especially with and for my clients —

I hadn’t been masterful at fully surrendering to it, trusting it, and not making the choice in one hand while deeply doubting and shaming myself in the other.

Which means that what I’ve never had before was a container – a BRAND – that held all the truth of my magic, the work I’m here to do — what I’m truly meant to bring.

And needless to say: that’s about to change. 

I am directing my own photoshoot in a couple of weeks, and I’m on the precipice of launching a whole new brand, one that holds in a way that allows for the fullest, most potent expression of my work.

While there is a place for blueprints and structures and formulas and templates, there’s so much to be said for the first, most essential piece of ANY creative birthing process –

Holding your process with unconditional love.

The clarity I feel today would not be possible if I didn’t take the time to learn how to hold all of myself, with deep reverence and love, first. 

It would not be possible if I didn’t do the work to cultivate my own beautiful sacred masculine, my own deeply loving inner parent, and my own reverent honorship of all that I am – with all my hyphenates and creative desires and talents and visions.

Yes, I am a writer and an artist and a woman and a brand storyteller and a creatrix and an entrepreneur. Yes, I am an intuitive and an oracle and a wise woman and a coach and a healer. Yes, I am funny and playful and light and dark and deeply feminine and a super flawed human. 

Yes, I am all of these things. 

But it took EMBODYING the container I needed FIRST to be able to FEEL the sacred container of the BRAND.

It took walking myself through this process to deeply understand, even more precisely, what my clients need too – 

For their brand and brand story to be the container that is wide and loving enough to be the one that holds all of their magic.

For their brand and business to be a space within which their work in the world is most fully expressed. 

And that it was time for me to step up and accept my role as the person to help them SEE and CREATE it – not out of shame and scarcity, but out of deep reverence, wisdom, pleasure, joy, and love.

You can go out there and get all the PR you want. Grow your mailing list. Start a Substack. Build your SEO. Market and sell all the things. 

But if your brand isn’t a container that holds you well – you’ll feel it, and it will absolutely affect all that you’re trying to build and create for yourself. 

It will feel too tight, too small, too limiting, too cliche. 

If you’re an artist, visionary, or entrepreneur, you might not be moved by JUST the capacity your business has to make the *most* money – 

You might, like me, be more moved by what is true.

So how do you know you’re ready for your truest BRAND to be born?

How do you know when you’re ready to commit to that BIG project?

How do you know when it’s time to step more into the SPOTLIGHT?

Become more visible? Get more vulnerable? Shine brighter? 

When you can feel the bigness of how it’s about SO much more than you, that’s when you’ll know.

I have so much more to say on this, but I’ll leave this here for now.

Loving you and wishing you a beautiful week,

Jamie

Naturally, I’ve been processing this change as a simultaneously freeing yet terrifying thing. As a highly sensitive, inquisitive being, I’m endlessly fascinated by our innate, human desire for freedom — and equally — the amount of constraint, restrictions, and limitations that we need to feel safe in the world. 

These vary person to person and season to season, but there’s always some degree of freedom and containment that we’re all choosing, in different areas of life, at any given time.

We enter containers, we join containers, we create containers – not because we want to be “held back,” but because we need to be held just as much as we need to be unleashed. 

I believe the tension of these two things is the beauty of the human condition and the basis of the art we make. It’s so incredibly gorgeous to me.

My relationship with my literary manager was one container for my work. It was a loyal, caring, and nurturing container. It was a patient, persistent, and dedicated container. It was a frenetic, energetic, and inspiring container. And it served me well, until it didn’t anymore.

But breaking that container, like breaking any container, is painful. 

The dissolution of it comes with grief. For me, anxiety, misery, and nostalgia were the star highlights. And? It also felt good and made me happy. 

There’s something I didn’t share in my last post, but feels important:

This “dumping” happened at the exact right time. 

I kind of want to gag using a term like “divine timing,” but I also struggle to find better words, particularly for a phenomenon I experience over and over, and so deeply believe in.

There is a “right time” for everything.

And… you can’t plan or predict it.

This is also true for your creative process with any given project.

I want to express this with some caveats, because when I talk about “right timing,” I’m not talking about waiting to feel “100% ready,” because sometimes you do need to jump off a diving board while you’re still afraid of the freezing cold water below. But, in terms of how we attempt to strategize, control, and manage our projects, businesses, and lives – 

Often, we simply have to surrender to a timeline that is far beyond our mind’s capacity to engineer.

Not only that, but it’s to our greatest benefit to do so.

Timing really is everything, and while it’s not something you can plan, control, or rush — NO MATTER HOW MUCH TO WANT TO (trust me, I know you want to) — the question I’m asking you to consider today is —

What if you KNEW you would get even better results if you completely surrendered the timing of your desired “outcome?”

What would change in how you approach your process?

The beauty of this approach is that there is a magical synchronicity that can occur when you’re really tuned in and listening. That intuitive element is a critical piece in my holistic approach to life, art, and business. 

And, as an intuitive being, I genuinely live in a near-constant state of awe watching things unfold, even if I don’t always like what’s unfolding. 

For example, in terms of receiving this news from my manager, I wish I could say that my intuition was “offline” and I didn’t see it coming –

But, as I’m about to share, I very clearly did.

First of all, the morning he called me wasn’t just any day. 

As a matter of fact, my calendar had one event listed for that day.

That event? Was “Agent List Making.” 

See, a dear friend and I had set a date to do the supremely tedious, unsexy, unglamorous, and uncreative work of finding ourselves some upgraded talent representation – together.

I was already scheduled to sit my ass down and create a list of potential talent reps.

So, THE day, of ALL days, when my former manager decided to call me and share his decision to release me into the wild – was the very same day that I was already making a giant list of potential upgrades and replacements for him?

MAKE IT MAKE SENSE.

I cannot. 

Because the realm of the impractical doesn’t work that way.

He didn’t know it, but I was already researching replacement representation. 

And I didn’t know that our ending was so near, but my body did.

This is the funny thing about intuition. Often, it speaks without words, and you’re left confused while trying to interpret its message.

For three days prior, I had been experiencing sensations of massive grief in my body for “no good reason.” I felt gloomy and sad. I felt like someone or something was dying. I was crying every night and couldn’t understand the heaviness in my heart.

But the moment I saw his name pop up on my phone, I knew exactly what the call was about. “Click.” It all made sense. 

Our conversation wasn’t a shock. It simply brought all of these sensations into sharp clarity and focus for me. YES, the pain was very true, but so was the immediate understanding and perfection. I began to compute what I’d been feeling all along.

This moment of change was inevitable. 

It was needed.

It was a gift.

Yes, this moment marked a turning point for my writing career, but it also marked a turning point for my creativity.

Earlier that same week, I had been struggling to revise a television pilot I’d been working on. After reworking a different project to bring it to a beautiful place the month prior, my focus had shifted back to this pilot: a fun “Abbott Elementary” style comedy.

But even though the project was hilarious and lots of fun to work on, when I sat down to work on it, I felt overwhelmed, sad, and grieve-y. With every change I made to the script, I felt confused and less-than-confident in my choices.

I honored my devotion to giving it time and attention, but my usual speed and levity wasn’t there. Something felt foggy. There was the grief I didn’t quite understand. But there was also something else “blocking” me.

I started to panic that I’d lost touch with the project, and that what was good about it had left; I temporarily forgot the rule of right timing.

But no matter what, this rule of “right timing” holds true, in all things.

Yesterday, I once again sat down to work on this project.

And this time, I had so much fun with it. The clarity, enthusiasm, lightness, and ease that had left had returned. The fog of confusion lifted and I once again deeply understood the choices and changes I was making and how to make them.

My fingers tapped the keyboard with a levity and spriteliness I’d been missing.

“It’s back,” I thought, as I breathed a sigh of relief.

For that, I am endlessly grateful.

The truth is: there is nothing I could have done to “create” that state of clarity and ease except trust and wait. 

No matter how brilliant, smart, and capable you are: not all problems are yours to solve. Sometimes, the best (and only) thing you can do is keep showing up, devotionally, to your work, and let the rest go. Sometimes the things you feel don’t make sense until they do. And sometimes, the challenging moments are actually the greatest gifts — but we need to let time do its work for it to all make sense.

Even when it is your job to “figure it out,” as a creative human, the solutions don’t come from your critical thinking or analytical skills. They come from a space of unknown, impractical, creative chaos. They come from a brilliance that can’t be controlled or managed. They come from spirit.

Just for today, I am devoted to continuing my process, with deep reverence and trust. I encourage you to do the same.

Create like you mean it.

xo

Jamie

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My literary manager dumped me today. 

Well, he didn’t exactly “dump me,” he chose to have the difficult conversation with me where he told me I’d be better served by a different rep.

I know he’s right. But fuck.

You know those moments in your life when you get that feeling like  – “Oh, this is a massive turning point; this is the moment when things are about to change for the better.” Only, in the actual moment, it feels like shit?

That’s the kind of moment I’m having.

I’ve spent the better part of the last year asking myself if I still want to be a writer.

I’ve literally asked myself this question every day, every moment, every hour – and I have tried – pretty desperately (to be entirely honest) to dump this ENTIRE identity of being “a writer” off at the train station with a one way ticket and tell it “goodbye and good luck.” 

I just imagine myself waving at it enthusiastically while it rushes away towards its next destination, sadly pouting at me through the train window. I’ll watch, with a giant smile on my face, and gracefully swish my hand back and forth through the wind as “the writer” disappears rapidly into the distance… then I’ll take a deep breath… and calmly walk into my shiny new life where “being a writer” isn’t something I have to carry anymore.

AH, what a dream, lol.

I’ve told friends, in oh-so-many tender and teary-eyed moments, that I don’t know if I can do this anymore. 

I’ve sent them scripts of mine to read and prayed to G-d they would tell me it was bad and I should stop. 

I’ve wanted, so badly, to hand over my power and authority to them (or, if we’re being honest, to anyone who I think has taste) and have them grab me firmly by the shoulders and say, “Jamie, really, I think it’s time to let it go.”

But that wasn’t their response.

IT WAS NEVER THEIR RESPONSE.

My whole life I’ve been hoping someone would point me in ANY other direction. But that’s not what happens.

What happens is more like: “You can’t quit. You’re too talented.”

UGH! How dare these assholes enjoy my work and writing?! 

And… love me so much? Really? HOW DARE THEY?! 

Underneath these jokes, my heart is broken.

Not because of the news about my manager, but because of everything he and I came SO CLOSE to accomplishing together… but didn’t. Because of timing. Because of life. Because of luck. Because sometimes, that’s just how it goes.

The “so close,” “but not quite,” “but ALMOST” moments?

There were so many. 

I have so many stories of “almosts” piling up in my mind now, like a retrospective documentary of my last five years as a screenwriter. 

• “Almost” landing a pitch for an Ali Wong movie

• “Almost” pitching a raunchy rom com to Seth Rogen’s company

• “Almost” collab’ing with Ryan Reynold’s producer

• “Almost” getting repped by a massive agency to put my movie together

• “Almost” selling my project to a studio

• “Almost” attaching a badass female director

(Some of these multiple times, with oh-so-many drafts in between.)

Almost. Almost. Almost.

It’s been so much work and so many instances of projects “almost” perfectly coming together, then… falling all the way apart again.

There’s something to be said for having really given something everything you have, and then reaching a near breakthrough point and still not getting to the other side.

It doesn’t mean you never will.

What it does do, though, is show you precisely who you really are, and how you really feel. Like I said, I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to “dump” my identity as a writer. Then, I get dumped as a writer.

And, as a result, I’ve never been more clear that I (myself) can never abandon this part of myself, no matter how hard it gets.

The media makes being a writer look glamorous, but the truth is that it’s the most mentally, spiritually, and emotionally challenging thing…

It’s a lot of extra, thankless, unpaid work.

It’s a lot of rejection, both the quiet and loud kind. The quiet is the worst kind though, and it happens far more often.

It’s a lot of lonely days and nights choosing your project over something fun.

It’s a lot of uncertainty about your work, your value, and your future.

It’s a lot of feeling different than everyone else around you.

It’s a lot of sucking it up and advocating for yourself when no one else will.

It’s a lot of sacrifice. It just is.

This is why so many people DON’T do it. Because you have to either be a little bit crazy – or NEED to do it so badly from a deep spot in your soul – in order to tolerate all that it entails.

I suppose I learned that I still NEED to write. Regardless of what I’d prefer — which would certainly be an easier path forward.

Obviously, I can’t predict the future, but I know the past doesn’t mean that I’ll be stuck in a perpetual eternity of “almosts” forevermore.

This moment, this change, means something else. It means that whatever else I create and whatever comes of those creations won’t be happening with the team I had before. It means that my next chapter won’t include this one specific human being — my former literary manager — who advocated for me and my wild and crazy ideas for ten long years. It’s the end and it’s a whole new beginning.

It means I’ll have to start advocating for myself more than ever before.

If you’re a writer, and you’re writing, I want you to remember this:

This work does not come with the glory, accolades, or even financial reward that a lot of other work does. It can be brutal, and grueling, and at times emotionally destabilizing. It takes a fierce person to keep going. And not everyone can be that resilient and make those sacrifices over and over, let alone repeatedly over a long period of time.

So, if it feels hard, you’re not doing it wrong, and you’re not alone.

This type of “hard” is absolutely why I keep secretly hoping to sneak out the back door every time I send a new project off for a read. Like, after decades, I’m going to somehow become worse at this work instead of better, and be told that NOW I should quit, like…

“Aha! Now I’m terrible. Now I’ll just have all these amazing ideas and NOT write them; because I’ve only gotten worse over the years. Goodbye cruel world of writing!”

The problem is – that’s not how putting in your 10,000 hours works. 

The other problem is – I can’t stop.

No matter how many times I try to give up, my inner leader won’t let me.

Not even now. Not even when my literary manager is dumping me!!!

That all-knowing voice inside me is NOT saying: “Use this turning point as a reason to quit.”

It’s saying: “You’re too good to quit. Figure out the next best step.”

Which also means facing something that I’ve been avoiding looking at for a long time now:

I need to stop looking for the exit ramp.

I need to stop wishing someone would tell me I’m not good enough and should quit.
I need to stop trying to drive off to a place where the reality of being a writer no longer plagues me. 

Because that exit ramp isn’t real.

It’s a fantasy I’ve made up.

It’s a life where writing isn’t something I do.

It’s a world where life doesn’t hurt anymore.

It’s an option that takes responsibility off of my shoulders and gives them to someone else (Anyone, really. Who wants it? God? You?)

But the truth is: there is no exit ramp.

So instead of looking for one, I need to plant my feet firmly in the truth: I’m a writer and I’ll never stop. I need to check Waze, and keep driving, with as many rest stops as I need along the way.

Because the thing is – being an artist means you’re gifted. Full stop.

You didn’t ask for these gifts. But you have them.

Which means you’re also responsible for them.

You didn’t ask for that responsibility. But it’s yours anyway.

And it’s EXTRA. But you’ll never get the extra credit!!

But you don’t do it for the credit. 

You do it because it’s true.

That’s what I’ve concluded, anyway.

No matter what kind of creator you are, I hope you remember that your work is sacred and your gifts matter. 

I hope you care for your gifts and treat them with reverence.

I hope you trust your inner leadership so diligently that you stay faithful and devoted to what is true for you.

I know how much it hurts to keep going when it feels like nothing’s working out or the floor has literally fallen out from under you. I really, really do. 

And I also know that denying a true part of yourself isn’t the solution – no matter what the problem is or how much it hurts to keep showing up.

Remember that you’re not alone. Take care of your tender heart. And don’t quit on yourself.

Meanwhile, I’ll be over here, just trying to do a better job of that myself and sharing all I learn along the way.

xo

Jamie

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