embracing intuition in copywriting and coaching
These words feel like they’ve been trapped inside me for a long time. I can’t say exactly why they’ve been inside for so long, or what my hesitation may have been to get them out of my head and onto the page.
All I know is they weren't ready to come out yet until now. Maybe I was afraid of judgment or having people disagree with me. The act of putting yourself out there can bring up some wonky feelings. Am I sharing this because I think it will help someone? Am I sharing this because it simply needs to come out?
I took a walk right before writing an SFD of this, and what came out was a fast and furious 1100 words in 25 minutes. Of course, you’re reading the edited version.
I’ve been searching for a tangible way to describe intuition — specifically what it means to me in the context of writing and coaching.
Here’s how the old conversation goes in my head...
“Hi, I’m Jacq, an intuitive writer and coach.”
Other people, “No, you’re not.”
Me, “Okay, you're right. Bye.”
Maybe you have a narrative like this running through your mind too.
When I was around twelve (I think), I recall my mom taking me to a psychic fair inside a hotel ballroom. I don’t recall many details about the event or why we were there — I only remember two things about that day:
A strange feeling that everyone was reading my mind as I walked past the booths with palm readers, psychics, and mediums.
When a palm reader took my hands in hers, flipped them over, studied my palms, and told me that I had “healing hands.” She asked me if my hands got hot around people. And I thought, “well yeah, just being around other humans often makes my palms sweat.”
And that was it. The only encounter that stood out to me that some would describe as “mystic.”
The word “intuitive” didn’t mean all that much to me until a few years ago.
First, one client after another would show up in my inbox who held a title like intuitive, medium, healer. What the heck? Why were all these open-hearted folks and lightworkers coming my way?
“Intuition” was a word I rarely even used when going about my day, and it certainly wasn’t how I’d describe my reasoning. I can probably attribute this to spending most of my life achieving with masculine energy — climbing the ladder, chasing promotions, working like a MOFO.
Woo woo? I was anything but.
2018, in the first draft of the book I’m (still) working on, I wrote a chapter that was giving the middle finger to all things woo. I called it, “When It’s Time to Turn Off the Woo.”
I now wonder if all those intuitive business owners showing up and asking for my help with their words was directly related to me flipping the bird.
That chapter draft was pre-intuitive days, and this is now. I’ve revised that chapter entirely and scrapped that initial first draft because I was dead wrong.
I am intuitive.
And pssst — you are too.
It only took me hearing it, then reconfirming it from many, many others before I could feel even remotely comfortable attaching it to my name. One day on a whim several months ago, I added it to my website copy in one not-so-obvious spot and didn’t tell anyone. Slowly, over time, I’ve gotten cozier with the word, sprinkling it into my email signature, social media profiles, and calling those nudges what they are — my intuition.
So what does it mean to be an intuitive copywriter?
Intuition shows up differently for everyone. For me, it feels like an obvious knowing — also referred to as claircognizant. I had previously thought that clairvoyant (clear seeing) was the only form of intuition.
Here’s how the clear knowing shows up for me:
When shit hits the fan, and I’m being walked out of a job, I know… it’s okay.
Walking into a house when house shopping and knowing without a doubt which ones were wrong, and which ones were right — by standing on the sidewalk.
When I’m on a consult call with a potential client, and I get the urge to sit and talk to them all day, or run, I know.
I ignored those intuitive nudges for so long it’s a wonder that they kept showing up to poke me. Well, I’m sure glad they did. Thank you for not giving up on me!
Here’s how intuition shows up in my copywriting and coaching work:
Sometimes a client will tell me very little about themselves, and I’ll take to the page and seemingly make some shit up — and hit the mark.
I’ll pull out pieces of people’s stories in their about pages that make them cry — you’d be surprised how often this happens.
I revisit something I wrote — for myself or a client and think, “Oh, I really love that.” And then my client says, “You should, you wrote it.” You see, I don’t remember. I used to think I had a memory problem, but more accurately, it’s intuition or my muse — and I forget the details.
It’s when I dream about someone, and they show up in my inbox the next day.
When I’m hosting a writing marathon, looking at some copy, and serving up some helpful feedback, and for some reason, I get stuck reading a few seemingly benign words over and over. I KNOW there’s something more in there that needs to come out… and sometimes I can’t pinpoint what it is. I just hang out there, looking at it until I get a nudge. Sometimes it’s to prompt someone to go deeper, or I’ll ask a question. And when I don’t know, I say, “tell me more about this,” to see what comes up from there. Often, I strike a nerve.
It showed up when we first went into this pandemic business, and my chest was tight, and I felt like I might have been having a heart attack. I realized I was taking on everyone else's fear and pain. That chest tightness didn’t belong to me. I confirmed this because I was able to let it go so quickly.
It’s when I’m reading something or listening to someone tell me something, and I get a very distinct tingly feeling. It creeps down the right side of my neck from my ear to my shoulder — like someone walking their fingers across my throat. And then I know — pay attention Jacq — there’s something here for you.
A knowing is sometimes clunky and awkward to explain to people.
I get lots of deer in headlights and strange looks — I’m okay with this now. I have to trust it. And when I share with clients, I always ask permission — or they’ve asked me first, and I respond. Many of my clients have a finely tuned intuition so they know how to listen and trust their inner knowing.
Sometimes I open my mouth, and words fall out — it’s like they’re not even mine. This is something I have to be careful of. Many times people have said to me, “you said this and this.” and, confused, I'm trying to recall — “I did? Are you sure?”
Sometimes I ask questions that feel uncomfortable, and that discomfort is often not mine. I always make sure people know that they can reject anything I ask or share. I have no pride in ownership of advice I give or feedback in a piece of copy.
It’s up to the person on the receiving end to decide what to do with it.
And I think this is part of the reason why I initially held back on associating with the word intuitive; because I want to encourage people to discover the answer for themselves — not tell them what to do. I know that my clients know the answer, and sometimes they don’t see it right away. I want them to find the answers for themselves so that they can learn to trust their intuition too — and they all have it.
This is a special kind of intuitive coaching dance because sometimes I share an idea, and that’s what they needed to hear. Sometimes a question doesn’t bring up anything at all — and we hear crickets. These are all perfectly okay.
It took me a long time to learn the language of my intuition. I’m still figuring it all out, but one thing’s for sure — it’s getting sharper the more I pay attention.
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