Get To Know: Danielle Holian
- May 11
- 6 min read
Rooted in lived experience and emotional honesty, Danielle Holian has established herself as a compelling voice in contemporary poetry, unafraid to explore the complexities of love, loss, trauma, and healing. Her latest collection, Growing Pains, marks her most intimate and unflinching work to date, tracing a deeply personal journey through domestic violence, identity loss, survival, and ultimately, self-reclamation. Across her writing, Holian transforms difficult lived experiences into reflective, emotionally resonant poetry that speaks to endurance and the quiet process of rebuilding. She opens up about the inspiration behind Growing Pains, the evolution of her creative voice, the challenges of revisiting painful memories through writing, and the themes of survival and healing that continue to shape her work.
Welcome to Curious for Music! Can you tell us about the inspiration behind your latest poetry collection?
The inspiration behind Growing Pains comes from a deeply personal period of my life that unfolded over several years. The collection traces an emotional journey through love, loss of self, and ultimately healing after an abusive relationship. At the time, writing became a vital outlet for me, it was a way to process what I was experiencing and to hold onto some sense of clarity when everything else felt overwhelming. Some of the poems were written at different stages of that relationship, so looking back, the collection naturally reflects that progression, from the early intensity of falling in love, to the gradual realisation of its reality, and eventually to finding the strength to leave and rebuild myself. More than anything, I wrote Growing Pains as a way to make sense of what I had been through and to turn it into something that felt honest, reflective, and healing.
What was the creative process like for this book?
The creative process for Growing Pains was very organic and developed over time rather than in a structured way. I wrote many of the poems across different periods of my life, often in response to whatever I was going through at the time, without initially intending for them to become part of a collection. Later on, I began revisiting my work and noticed recurring themes and a natural emotional progression, which is what eventually shaped the book. From there, the process became more about reflection: selecting and arranging pieces in a way that told a cohesive story. Overall, it was quite an introspective process, focused on honesty and allowing the work to come together in its own time rather than forcing it into a fixed structure.
How does this new collection differ from your previous work?
While my previous work has always explored themes of survival, heartbreak, healing, and rediscovering myself, this collection is far more direct and intimate in what it confronts. At the centre of the book is my experience of domestic violence and being in an abusive relationship, and I think that truth changed the way I approached writing entirely. There’s less hiding in metaphor and more willingness to sit inside the discomfort of what happened. What makes this collection different is that it isn’t just about the aftermath of pain; it’s about recognising abuse while inside it, surviving it, leaving it, and trying to understand who you are once it’s over. The poems move through fear, grief, shame, anger, and ultimately healing, but they also explore the quieter realities of abuse: isolation, self-doubt, routine, and the way survival can sometimes look deceptively ordinary from the outside. More than anything, this book feels like the most honest I’ve ever allowed myself to be on the page.
Were there any particular challenges you faced while writing or compiling these poems?
One of the main challenges was revisiting emotions and experiences that were still quite fresh and difficult at the time. Because many of the poems were written in real time as I was going through those experiences, compiling them into a collection later meant looking back on everything from a more reflective place, which wasn’t always easy. Another challenge was learning how to step back and see the work as a whole, rather than just individual pieces tied to specific moments. It took time to shape the collection in a way that felt cohesive while still staying true to the honesty with which each poem was written. But those challenges became part of the process itself, and they helped me approach the work with more clarity and intention.
Did you collaborate with any editors, artists, or contributors during the development of this collection?
Not directly, no. I did share a few poems along the way with loved ones and received some informal feedback, but other than that, Growing Pains was very much a solo process. I wrote and developed the entire collection myself, from the first drafts through to the final compilation.
What message or emotions do you hope readers take away from the book?
I hope readers take away a sense of recognition, comfort, and ultimately hope. While Growing Pains explores a deeply painful experience of domestic violence and an abusive relationship, at its core, it is also about survival, self-awareness, and finding the strength to leave. More than anything, I want readers to feel less alone in what they may have gone through or are currently experiencing, and to see that even in the darkest periods, there is a possibility of reclaiming themselves and rebuilding. I also hope it opens up space for honesty around these kinds of experiences, which are often difficult to speak about, but deeply important to acknowledge.
Is there a unifying theme or narrative that ties the poems together?
Yes, there is a unifying narrative that ties the collection together. Growing Pains follows an emotional journey from love and attachment, through loss of self within an abusive relationship, and ultimately toward recognition, separation, and healing. While the poems were written at different times, they collectively trace that progression and the shifting sense of identity that comes with it. At its core, the collection is about self-realisation: what it means to slowly lose yourself in something, and then find your way back again. Even though the experiences are painful, the underlying thread is one of survival, growth, and reclaiming a sense of self.
How has your voice or style evolved in this collection compared to your earlier work?
My voice in this collection feels more intentional and grounded compared to my earlier work. When I first started writing, my poems were very instinctive and emotionally immediate, which is still something I value, but over time I’ve learned how to shape those emotions more deliberately on the page. With Growing Pains, there was also a shift toward more cohesion and narrative: thinking not just about individual poems, but how they sit together as a whole. I’ve become more aware of structure, pacing, and how silence or simplicity can carry as much weight as intensity. Overall, I feel my style has matured into something that still holds emotional honesty at its core, but with more clarity and control in how that emotion is expressed.
Is there a poem in the book that feels especially meaningful to you? What makes it stand out?
One poem in the collection that feels especially meaningful to me is The Monday I Returned. In many ways, it captures the emotional centre of the book. I wrote it during a period where I was trying to navigate the aftermath of leaving a relationship while still forcing myself to function normally. I didn’t really give myself the time or space to process everything, I just kept working, kept moving, kept trying to survive. Because I work from home, the isolation felt amplified. In the poem, I write: “there’s no chatter here to save me, just the low electric breathe of the room, and the expectation that I am working.” That line still stays with me because it reflects how quietly grief and survival can exist side by side. The poem later took on an even deeper meaning after my mother died. The routines and repetition I describe became tied not only to survival, but to mourning too. I write, “each Monday becomes a memorial, to courage I’m not sure I had, to losses that refuse to be named in full.” What makes the poem stand out to me is that it asks a question I was wrestling with throughout the entire collection: whether endurance and healing are actually the same thing. I close with the lines, “and in the quiet between notifications, I wonder if endurance is mistaken for healing, if showing up is all I’m allowed to be,” which still feels like the heart of the book to me.
How do you plan to share this release with your audience? Are there any upcoming readings, signings, or special projects in the works?
I plan to share the release mainly through my social media platforms, where I’ve been able to connect with readers and build a community around my work. I’m also hoping to organise a few readings and events where I can share the poems in a more intimate, spoken format, as I think they take on a different kind of energy when read aloud. In terms of upcoming plans, I’m exploring the possibility of more live readings and creative collaborations, as well as continuing to write and develop new work. For now, I’m focused on giving Growing Pains space to be shared and received, while staying open to what comes next creatively.
