Shedding Other Voices and Seeking What is True to Me

A Creative Conversation with Claire Coenen

Welcome to Pocketful of Prose, a community for sharing stories. Today, I am excited to share something new, the first in my series of creative conversations with community members. Have you been lucky enough to have a conversation recently that left you feeling better about yourself, your work and the world? I cherish conversations like these, and so from time to time, I am going to highlight them in this space. Today, I am sharing some of my conversation with Claire Coenen, writer, licensed master social worker and to my great delight a member of the Pocketful of Prose community. Claire’s first book of poetry, The Beautiful Keeps Breathing, comes out this Spring.

I am at our lake cabin this weekend. I came here to work on revisions for my book. I finished my first manuscript, and then I vulnerably placed that manuscript in the hands of six trusted people and asked for feedback.

I always remind my students that feedback is a gift, but it is not a gift you have to accept. Receiving feedback and deciding what to do with it requires you to turn inward and listen to the voice within. Does the feedback resonate? Is it moving you towards a deeper truth? Is it getting you closer to a more beautiful version of the story you are trying to tell?

I am spending a few days alone because taking this time allows me to better listen to the voice within. I started making these monthly solo retreats last January. I wonder if I would have finished my manuscript if I hadn’t done that. I wonder if I would have created Pocketful of Prose if I hadn’t carved that space out for myself. I’m not so sure. Yet, this morning I feel resistance rising up as it does before every solo trip. Am I being selfish? Maybe I shouldn’t go. I will miss out on things with my family.

We are experiencing unusually cold weather here this weekend, and the weather alone could have been an easy excuse to bail. The doors of our 2005 Subaru freeze in the cold. Currently, the doors on the right side of the car are frozen shut. I could have taken this as a sign to stay home. Instead, I opened the doors available to me, in this case the ones on the left side of the car, and Cato and I headed to the lake.

I go to the lake even though it’s the kind of cold that makes your nose hairs freeze a few minutes after stepping outside. I go because my frozen nose hairs tell me that even though I resist being alone, even though it scares me a little, I know it is what I need. I know that taking this time will restore me to myself, and I will return to my family and my community, with more grace and wisdom. I also know that being able to do this is an incredible privilege that requires means and a supportive spouse, and that carving out space for myself, even though it feels hard sometimes, is much easier for me than it is for many women.

I am talking about shedding this month. Last week, I wrote about shedding stuff to acknowledge and accept who we are rather than trying to be something we are not. Yesterday, in talking with Claire, it occurred to me that sometimes we need to shed other voices so that we can listen more intently to our own voice. The voices of others can sometimes get loud. I am not speaking of lifegiving voices here, the ones that make us feel better about ourselves, our work and our world. I am speaking of the general hum of anxiety that surrounds us, voices of despair, voices of doubt, voices that diminish us and shut us down. Sometimes these voices are inside the house.

Claire shares that she is incredibly grateful that The Beautiful Keeps Breathing will be published this Spring, but she sometimes has “a lot of anxiety about (this) vulnerable material being out in the world.” This is something I can relate to well as I get closer to the finish line with my memoir.

For me, there’s also a voice inside the house that wonders why more people aren’t signing up to read my Substack. This voice forgets that “comparison is the thief of joy.” It is greedy and harsh, but most of all it is distracting. It pulls me away from the things I value. It is foggy when it comes to intentions.

Claire with her dog Lion

Claire and I talk about how when you are wanting your writing to find a home in the world, there is the inevitability of the hustle. In a way, scheduling this zoom together was part of the hustle for both of us. Claire wants to promote her book. I want to grow my Substack. We are both participating in hustle culture, but that doesn’t mean we have to drown in its noise. Our conversation about our work and the desires on our heart is honest and vulnerable, and because of this, it is comforting and energizing.

This month, I started a 31-day yoga practice with Adrienne. It’s stretching me as the yoga sessions are longer than what I am used to, and they are new each day, so I don’t know what is coming, which is hard for me. In the second session, Adrienne talks about the balance between staying grounded and stretching. This seems like good wisdom for life. I need to look inward and find that grounding, and then I can try and stretch myself from that centered place.

Claire shares how returning to her intentions helps her stay grounded. She has three post-it notes of intentions for herself which she returns to often. One is for why she writes, the second is for why she shares her writing and the third is her intention for interacting with social media. When she starts to lose her footing, when the other voices become loud, she returns to those post-it notes to remind herself of who she is and why she writes.

Claire was kind enough to share her intentions with us. Here’s her intention for writing.

“I write to connect with myself and this strange experience of being alive. I write so I can play with and get to know Love, Beauty, and Truth. I write to get out of my way and allow Creative Energy to flow.”

Here’s her intention for sharing her writing.

“I share my writing to pass on what is true and helpful to me, with the hope that my work points toward Love, Beauty, and Truth. I hope my poems provide the type of mirror and container that the poetry I love offers me, particularly in times of pain.”

Claire inspired me to write my own intentions. Whatever the desires on your heart are, I encourage you to take a moment to do the same.

Here’s my intention for writing.

I write to remember. I write to savor. I write to heal. I write to process. I write to lean into life, to embrace it and live the healthiest life possible. I write because it makes me laugh, it brings me joy. It’s fun. I write to know myself. I write to honor my story. I write to notice and capture beauty.

Here’s my intention for sharing my writing.

I share my writing so that others can feel seen. In reading Andrea Gibson’s piece the other day, I realized that every time I read what they write, I feel better about myself and the world. I want people who read my writing to feel that way too. I want my writing to encourage people to let go of shame. I want people to know that they are not alone, that they are part of something bigger, a community. Reading the work of others has offered me so much hope, light and laughter. I offer my writing in reciprocity for those gifts, hopeful that someone will find the same gifts in my words.

Claire did not share her intention for interacting with social media, and I don’t blame her. This intention stumped me when I tried to write it. I think my purpose in this arena is so that people can find my work. It feels more functional, like advertising and less connected to who I am and what I create, and yet somehow the voices inside the house sometimes allow this voice to sit at the head of the table. Maybe in returning to my intentions, I can place it at the kids’ table, where it can’t take itself too seriously. After all, you can only take yourself so seriously when you are sitting with people who have food all over their face.

In addition to writing her intentions, Claire shared a few other tips on shedding other voices. Her final submission for The Beautiful Keeps Breathing is due at the end of the month. She decided to read the entire book aloud to her herself, savoring it before sharing it with the world. It is a reminder that the book is a gift to herself regardless of what it becomes for others.

Claire says that she tries to ask herself two questions as she moves forward in her writing and in her life. “What is the voice that is true to me? And what is the voice that is true to me now?” The first question helps to filter out the loud distracting voices, and the second question removes some of the pressure we put on ourselves that we have to get everything right when we put something out in the world. We can still share our truth while accepting that our truth might change.  

As I sit and stare out a cold and frozen world today, I will hold my precious gifts of feedback in my hands, warmed by the people who gave my work their attention. As I contemplate their words and as this post enters the world, I will return to my intentions. Grounded in them I will ask, what is the voice that is true to me?  

If I get quiet enough, I might hear an answer.

If you want more of Claire’s wisdom, she is offering a Writing for Healing class that starts up on January 23^rd. You can learn more about her offering here. I will also keep you posted about how you can get a copy of The Beautiful Keeps Breathing in the coming months, so stay tuned.

As always, I would love to continue this conversation in the comments. What resonates with you today? What is true for you now? How do you return to yourself?

If you enjoyed this conversation, please share with a friend and take a moment to click the heart at the bottom.