I felt jealous. Then I remembered what creativity really is.

Hey there,

Body of Work (my new 1:1 coaching container) came to me like a download.
There was a clear moment when the idea and vision arrived, fully formed and cohesive.
All I had to do was articulate it.

Then, in the weeks since announcing it, two creators I follow and admire have used that same phrasing and perspective in their newsletters.

My initial reaction was to feel triggered.

I know that my work shows up in their ecosystems, so of course my mind went there: Are they copying me?

Maybe not exactly copying. But more like, Are they taking inspiration from me without credit, and somehow benefiting from it?

I wanted to dismiss the feeling and chalk it all up to a common phrase, but my reaction was real.
It filled me with panic.

These creators have larger audiences and more established businesses.
People will assume the concept originated with them.
There’s no way anyone would think that little ol’ me might have sparked it first.

There’s no way to prove that, anyhow.
And I know myself well enough to know I’m not about to try.
So what do I do with these feelings?

They left me uneasy, like I’d been pulled into a current that was only going to get stronger. The kind that flushes you down the drain and leaves you swimming just to breathe.

I knew the thoughts weren’t the truth, but I couldn’t yet see what was.

Then, this weekend, I found myself cleaning my bathroom and listening to a podcast about creativity.

It wasn’t a new topic, but something about the timing—the guests, the phrasing—landed differently.

It felt as if it were produced just for me.

They were talking about where creative inspiration comes from, how people channel it, and what it means to be in relationship with ideas.

And I was humbled.

I remembered the truth I’d known when Body of Work first came through me: it wasn’t my idea. It was given to me.

That’s why it felt effortless—why I could move from conception to promotion in 24 hours and sell seats within a week.

That’s why I had multiple people reach out to me to tell them my email moved them, a couple even to tears.

I was tuned in to divine creativity, to work that wanted to enter the world one way or another.

What a gift it is to be part of that.

As the episode went on, I listened to stories about creative breakthroughs happening across the world at the same time. Artists and thinkers birthing similar ideas within days or months of each other.

It’s not copying, but converging—ideas that become ripe and reach for whoever is ready to express them.

Again, I was humbled.

And this time, I could see my own story in that pattern.

Maybe seeing this idea reflected by other writers wasn’t something to fear. Maybe it was confirmation? Evidence of the divine nature of my inspiration.

It began to feel exciting, almost electric, to think that if Body of Work wanted to show up through more than one person, then something really beautiful and powerful must be trying to emerge.

That realization shifted me from jealousy to awe.

When we’re connected to creativity, there is no competition.
There’s no need to be first or best.

Our work is to express the idea in the truest form for us and to recognize that others are doing the same.

When you see that happening, it can be an invitation to connect, encourage, and let the message expand through many voices.

What I’m learning from this

1. I wasn’t wrong to feel what I felt
   My reaction came from fear and jealousy, but both pointed to something deeper: I’d fallen out of rhythm with my creative routine.
   
   After I launched Body of Work, life got busy. I stopped doing the things that help me listen. So when I saw others writing about the same idea, it hit a nerve.
   
   It felt like the idea itself was asking, Are you going to keep stewarding me—or should I move on to someone who will?
   
   That question hurt, but it also woke me up. The fear came from doubting I’d be able to keep showing up. The jealousy came from wanting to.
   

2. The people who mirrored my idea are ones I genuinely admire
   They’re a few steps ahead of me in their work. Once I changed my perspective, moved past the scarcity and I saw the invitation in the overlap. This could be the start of friendship, collaboration, or simply mutual encouragement. We’re part of the same creative conversation.
   

3. Body of Work is more than a program—it’s a philosophy I’m being asked to explore
   This experience reminded me that the idea wasn’t given to me just to be a name for a coaching program, but rather to be an invitation to go deep into what living and creating a body of work looks like. I want to bring more structure and devotion to how I explore this philosophy and share it with others.

If you’re desiring inspiration

I know there have been times in my life when reading about someone else’s inspiration hasn’t felt encouraging. Instead, it made me feel left out, out of sync, or frustration that I’d been stuck for a while.

In an earlier essay, How to Channel Creative Energy, I described how simple creative practices can set the scene to allow you to recognize and capture creative inspiration when it comes.

Even if you’ve never felt that rush, you’re still connected to creative energy.
Every creative act, no matter how small, adds to the collective expression of what’s ready to emerge in our world.

Your version of the idea matters. Showing up for it and bringing it to life has intrinsic value. It’s how we each build our body of work.

Warmly,
Jennifer

P.S. Body of Work is closed for the rest of the year. But I plan to open a few slots for January. You can read the full program overview here, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the waitlist.