Reflections of Finding Your Creative Voice
On being a vegetable and a shepherdess, an anniversary, and lessons learned too slowly learned over nineteen years of public writing
You know what surprised me most about last year? As I reflected on 2023, I assumed it would be one of the challenges it held—losing another organ, the painful fallout of “being cancelled,” or maybe my ongoing tension around my relationship with church. It wasn’t one of my new firsts, either, like starting a virtual Mentorship Circle or parenting one of my teens through their first romantic relationship. Leaving 2023, it was the unexpected good that caught my attention. One of these was aligning with my writer’s voice more authentically.
Find your voice?
If you’re unfamiliar with the term, “finding your voice,” maybe you imagine Ariel searching Ursula’s dank underwater cave to reclaim the seashell holding her melodic song. But in writer’s circles, “finding your voice” is the process of clarifying your writing style, honing in on the topics you write about, and eventually, combining these to connect with your audience in a unique way.
Even if writers and other communicators intentionally practice clarifying their voice, the concept doesn’t apply only to them. Everyone has something to express—everyone has a voice—and many, if not all of us, tap into our creativity to express them.
One year anniversary
A few weeks ago, Authentically Elisa turned one. There was no birthday cake or fanfare, although I did eat plenty of leftover holiday sweets as I marveled at how this Substack publication grew, and how I grew myself writing it.
Authentically Elisa took me about five years to start. I had wanted a space to write about more personal and difficult topics. At first, I recognized the authority bestowed through experience was still in process; I needed to live through my stories. I put the idea aside. Later, the reason changed and what I was writing in solitude I hoped to share. But I felt like the timing was still off. I wasn’t released to write publicly about some topics yet, especially regarding faith and church (like this one: Three Years After Church Walls Crumbled).
But in 2022, after the climax of my sickness, I knew it was the right season. My sister-in-law and I began the process of starting something new together. Yet through our prep sessions and research, we decided our goals/topics weren’t compatible. I was left aware that the only reason I wasn’t starting Authentically Elisa was:
I was afraid to step into something new and vulnerable alone
My identity had to be ripped from Average Advocate
Fear is a pretty common reason for creatives to be held back from finding their voice, but it isn’t what I want to address today. Let’s talk about identity.
Identity ≠ voice
Often, we make our identity into our voice and our voice becomes our identity. In other words, our creativity defines us. This is the norm. For many people, their work is their defining factor. So if someone’s work is a type of creative outlet—design, art, drama, innovation, writing—it is no surprise their identity will be found there.
The obvious problem with this is that our identity is much more than our work. For example, we are usually also identified by our roles and relationships. Ultimately, we have the power to choose who and what we want to be identified by. I believe we miss out on our best unless we take on the authentic identity God designed for us.
You’re strangling without surrender
For me, the hardest part of being sick was having everything I identified by be stripped away. I was one-hundred percent dependent on God and others to stay alive. I couldn’t even be a wife or mother much of the time. And although I was being formed dramatically on the inside by being what felt like a vegetable on the outside, I would grasp at things I once held as valuable to my identity for my own sanity.
My other blog, Average Advocate, was one of these identities. Even if I could only barely or occasionally write, Average Advocate was who I still was. You could find me everywhere on social media since 2010 as Average Advocate. This identity was my fall back, especially each time I stepped down from other roles, as an executive director or ministry lead. Even if its purpose wasn’t to be about me, rather, empowering everyday people to change the world, it still reflected my journey as a human. Especially the shift from being a fumbling, burnout, unintentional white savior to being a healthy, intentional changemaker. That slow transformation was dear to me.
But my writing voice needed to extend far beyond the box Average Advocate kept it in. Ironically, when we give up what we find our identity in—motherhood, career, health, being an author—we discover God made us so much more.
Starting Authentically Elisa was a powerful way for me to shed allegiance to something that wasn’t meant to be my identity. It required deep surrender on my part to loosen my hold on a writing voice I had been strangling.
Don’t strangle your voice by settling for a partial identity.
Drop the box
As you can see, when I embarked on Authentically Elisa, it was a bold, conscience move. I might have had an intent—to practice authenticity in my public writing voice—but I had no clue where that would take me. (See my first post, From the Trees.)
It wasn’t a surprise that writing would bring me life—it is why I journal through everything and more before it ends up on Authentically Elisa. But putting it together, that actual writing process, was a fun challenge:
Do I want to present an idea in poetry, like this? (The Way I am Seen)
Combine fiction and an essay, like this? (Do Your Job Well)
Like an editorial, like this? (One People: On Israel and Palestine)
Or a full-on daily mini series? (ex. Betrayal #9)
This one was all about threading a theme: (The Water, the Girls, and the Mothers)
A common problem I’ve seen when coaching other writers is their inability to take the time to climb out of a writing box. We get so focused on building a platform and serving our audience that we can’t find ourselves.
Although I don’t like that last sentence restated this way, it can be:
We get so focused on finding validation and pleasing-people we can’t find our voice.
For example, as a rule of thumb, to best grow your audience, we “niche in.” We become experts on specific topics that appeal to distinct avatars and then avoid sharing anything else that isn’t relevant. And to a great extent, this works. But it comes at a cost. Sometimes boundaries are clear and wonderful. But in our creativity, they can also stifle our authenticity and creativity.
We get stuck. Writers bang their head against the wall with writer’s block. They tap their pens in frustration trying to craft their conclusion before they begin. Other creatives get hijacked by choosing the perfect design colors, the right D.J. equipment, figuring out where their art fits in their online profile, or how their new video strategically adds to their platform.
Creatives get trapped in a box. It is really hard to have vision when the walls are blocking the view.
This year, with Authentically Elisa, it was life-giving and voice-clarifying to remove as many boundaries as I could. For the first time in over a decade, I didn’t worry about my niche or doing the right thing with social media. I was free.
Want to develop your creative voice? Slice down the edges of your box. Let the sides drop. Force yourself into freedom.
Vulnerability and connection
Another cool thing about writing at Authentically Elisa was finding acceptance in my authenticity. Choosing to share my honest thoughts and experiences publicly, especially that fall outside the status quo, placed me in a very vulnerable position. I was acutely aware of how exposed and assailable I was; I had just experienced getting publicly cancelled by people I thought were in it together with me. Choosing to be authentic and vulnerable in these posts wasn’t something I did lightly.
(You see some of that tension here: Cure to Cancel Culture and Meandering Through Difficult Conversations).
Considering, I found it marvelous to bring my words and experiences to the world only to find that these posts actually connected with my readers. This was very life-giving, especially in my tender state. My fear was that my perpetual waltz with sorrow would leave my words unable to encourage. But my readers didn’t always needed another happy word; my readers were encouraged because they related.
There will always be haters. When the rejection comes from those we love, it is a betrayal. But the cost of vulnerability still pays off. Authenticity fosters a relational depth and rapport needed for life-change. It is striking and it multiplies; authenticity is a bright cactus flower in the wastelands.
I didn’t really expect my authentic voice would really connect with my reader, let alone that my audience would grow through this experiment. It was such a happy surprise! It is the writers’s dream! Until now, I’ve been more experienced at underachieving this dream.
Nineteen years
Like many writers, I grew up crafting stories and poetry, then later essays. I began my first blog in January of 2005. Between then and Authentically Elisa, I’ve started six other blogs (including Average Advocate). I also wrote content for nonprofits, ministries, submitted guest posts, and went through a few years of weekly flash-fiction story submissions.
In other words, I’ve written a lot publicly, most with little fanfare. Publishing content that doesn’t make a splash is a great writing teacher. If you scour the internet (please don’t), I have no doubt you’ll find hundreds of mediocre, if not cringeworthy, pieces. This one might even join their ranks. And although I am grateful to have tediously become a better writer, I have a different reason to point out these nineteen years.
What’s your payoff?
I read a Thread the other day where a woman, perceiving herself as a hardened and ancient content creator now, was encouraging other writers to keep going: “Be consistent,” she stated, “Surely it is about to payoff.”
She had been at it for six months.
I laughed to myself, resisting the urge to ask her if she would consider it to have “paid off” if she wrote and posted consistently for nineteen years and never grew into a renown influencer. For all of us, payoff is determined by what our metric of success is. I know that if I had continued to share her current metric, I would be out of the game a long time ago.
The two greatest measures of success creatives tend to use are income and audience growth.
To be fair, income is a powerful motivator. I have a lot of opinions on this I will reserve for another time. It would also be dishonest for me to pretend I don’t have a measure of privilege influencing my opinions. I haven’t required a writers’ income to survive. And I’ve almost always been able to carve time and energy from somewhere to write. It is valid for creators to want to make a living doing what they love.
But having a voice still doesn’t require having an income, nor are we best served by calling this our primary payoff. The same thing goes for having a massive audience.
Shepherding
Somewhere along the way, I gave up hoping most of my content would be well-read or well-liked. Although I still dream of a larger audience—mostly because I don’t want to have to bother convincing traditional publishers that I have a book worth selling—I began viewing my small audience as real people who I am accountable to lead well.
Stories shape us, and if you are reading mine, you are sharpened by my iron. I have a measure of influence in your life. You might not agree with me, nor do I expect you to. But you are taking time to consider my unique perspective, and I value that.
When I perceive myself as a shepherdess, I’ve become content not having hundreds of thousands of followers (as one literary agent I talked to suggested I just drum-up). In fact, I am grateful I haven’t become famous over those last nineteen years. I didn’t have the maturity or bandwidth to shepherd a large audience well. Honestly, I’m still not sure I do. I might never.
Although my audiences have grown significantly over the last year, I have a healthy fear of reaching too far. For one, I’ve burnt out before. Then, I’ve heard too many horror stories from other creatives who surpassed their capacity and maturity, through viral posts or massive exponential growth. I don’t want to be thrown into a similar tailspin.
I keep bringing my focus back to growing deeper roots, not growing a wider audience.
Despite any deconstructing faith I allude to, I’m vitally dependent on God. I pray for the capacity to give what needs to be given and maturity to speak what needs to be stated.
In this past year here are some measures I took or am taking to be a better shepherdess:
I took a course on trauma-informed writing to help protect you.
I met with a leadership collective last year to be poured into and learn about becoming a non-anxious leader.
I’m taking a course on addressing diverse groups with grace.
I’m taking a personalized cultural assessment with coaching so to help me write more justly.
I go to therapy weekly.
I regularly pray with others who also challenge me to address my baggage.
Why do I do these things? Because I want to be a good shepherdess for my audience, no matter what size it is. This is a payoff I value. Too often, creatives get so excited about finding their voice and being seen that they don’t count the cost of influence. Invest in becoming someone worth following and don’t take any role lightly. You hold the responsibility to use your influence well, whether you have three, thirty, three-hundred, three-thousand, or thirty-thousand+ people listening to you.
Do what you love
So what happened to those other blogs? One I outgrew. My collaborative blogs never found collaborators. Then, I decided I largely hated writing informational content, even if I can tolerate writing step-by-step and teaching pieces on occasion (like the resources I’ve developed listed here and here).
Instead, over the last nineteen years I slowly learned that I love these types of writing:
Fiction, poetry, or essays that help me express or understand myself.
Non-fiction stories that inspire or encourage.
Challenges to our preconceived notions, aligning us more fully with God’s best for us (thankfully this prophetic bent doesn’t look like Daniel’s or Jeremiah’s).
Recreating long-form content into bite-sized ideas for social media (but only when I am not required to follow a social media schedule and I’ve already had the energy to prioritize long-form writing).
When we first find creative outlets, we dabble in broad ranges of mediums. I used to practice a much wider range of creativity—music, fine arts, drama, dance, and entrepreneurship. Since, I’ve weeded many creative forms out. It isn’t that I don’t enjoy them, I am just not compelled to do them in this season.
This is a more genuine way to find and clarify our voice. Over time we hone in on what makes us come most alive—this is a worthwhile and wonderful payoff.
Note: Many assume that focusing on what brings us life makes it less-likely we’ll make money. For me, it has pushed me to discover new ways to make an income that align better with the types of creativity I love. (For example, the paid Substack subscription!)
Good boundaries
As I mentioned earlier, although creatives are often limited by boxes they think they must have, good boundaries are still needed. These boundaries need to be set up around what brings us life.
To protect my voice and the types of creativity that bring me life, these are some of my boundaries I’ve made:
I always prioritize life-giving writing:
I create before I consume, especially short content on social media.
I schedule time for this (in this season, it is often the only type of writing I do because of my limited time with a toddler around).
I schedule and batch informational social media content, website content, and marketing content.
I don’t do these during my rest time, sabbath, or daily free-flow writing time.
I avoid making commitments to myself and others that include informational content creation.
I’ll make exceptions for paychecks or strategic goals, but they must fit into the budgeted time I have for them with a clear end-date.
I create systems of accountability to finish these types of projects.
I engage with social media very intentionally:
I pay special attention to how social media makes me feel when engaging with it. I have people who have special permission to call me out and kick me off when they see negatively influenced by it.
Unless it is a live video, I only go on social media for twenty-minutes at a time.
At minimum, I take a day off social media each week, and seasonally a week+.
Too often, I’ll talk with someone who hasn’t explored their creativity very deeply, paying attention to their feelings and experiences as they practice their art and all the responsibilities surrounding it. They don’t actually know what they enjoy. They don’t know what drains them, either. They haven’t tried to intentionally protect what makes them come alive. To really find our voices, we must know what we love, hate, and what falls somewhere in between. Based on these discoveries, we can make good boundaries.
Still on the journey
It has been a joy to align with my authentic writing voice this past year, here on Substack. Sharing for nineteen years with minimal growth has positioned me to value any influence I’m given and be exceptionally grateful to connect with a growing audience (you lovely people!). For me it has been a worthwhile payoff.
I invite you to consider how your creativity shapes your identity (and vice-versa). Ask yourself where you are negatively boxed in, how to align with what makes you come alive, and what boundaries you need to make to protect your unique voice. Focus on deepening your roots to grow your capacity to use your influence.
I hope by sharng these reflections on creativity and lessons learned through public writing, you are encouraged to pursue your authentic voice, too. I am confident that we are together in this life-long journey!
Helpful Beginning of the Year Posts:
Misconceptions on a Word For the Year
The Pausing Season: Reevaluating and Renegotiating Commitments
Follow me on this Instagram account here: @AuthenticallyElisa
I have had these exact same thoughts lately!