Unplugged Lounge Conversations with Danielle Holian

Irish poet Danielle Holian has built a devoted readership through poetry that speaks candidly about heartbreak, healing, mental health, survival, and self-worth. Known for her emotionally raw yet deeply hopeful writing style, Holian’s work explores the difficult, often messy process of rebuilding yourself after loss and learning how to remain soft in a world that can harden you. Drawing inspiration from writers such as Sylvia Plath, Olivia Gatwood, and Rupi Kaur, as well as lyricists like Taylor Swift, MARINA, and Taylor Momsen, her poetry balances vulnerability with resilience in a way that continues to resonate with readers worldwide.

In this conversation, Holian opens up about the beginnings of her poetic journey, the women who shaped her voice, the deeply personal experiences behind her new collection Growing Pains, and why writing has always been a way of transforming pain into understanding.

Thanks for chatting with us at Sonic Sisters Magazine! Can you share a bit about how your journey into poetry began?

I’ve always been drawn to writing, but I started writing poetry seriously when I was sixteen. It quickly became my way of making sense of things I didn’t quite know how to say out loud. I’d turn whatever I was going through into verses; it felt like a form of release. When I began sharing poems online, I was surprised by how many people connected with them, which really encouraged me to keep going. That eventually led to my first collection, Beautifully Chaotic, which I released when I was 21. I have four poetry collections in total now.

Who have been some of the most significant influences on your poetic voice and style?

Some of the most significant influences on my poetic voice have been Sylvia Plath, Olivia Gatwood, and Rupi Kaur. Plath’s writing showed me how deeply personal and emotionally intense poetry can be, while Olivia Gatwood influenced my appreciation for storytelling and the honesty of spoken-word poetry. Rupi Kaur, on the other hand, inspired me to embrace simplicity and minimalism in my work, and to trust that short, direct lines can still carry a lot of weight. Outside of poetry, I’m also influenced by lyricists like Taylor Swift, MARINA, and Taylor Momsen, who all blend emotion and narrative in a way that has shaped how I think about rhythm, tone, and vulnerability in my own writing.

Which female poets or women in the literary world have inspired your creative journey?

Sylvia Plath, Olivia Gatwood, and Rupi Kaur have all played a role in my creative journey at different points in time. Discovering Plath was the first time I saw how powerful and unfiltered poetry could be, which made me take writing more seriously. Olivia Gatwood made me feel like there was space for my own voice in poetry, especially through spoken word and performance, and Rupi Kaur helped me feel more confident in sharing my work in a simpler, more accessible way. Each of them encouraged me at different stages to keep writing and to trust my own perspective.

How do your personal experiences shape your writing, and what do you hope readers take away from those connections?

My personal experiences are at the core of my writing, even when I’m not speaking about them directly. Writing has always been a way for me to process things like mental health struggles, heartbreak, and experiences of abuse, but also to make sense of love, healing, and self-discovery. It gives me space to turn things that can feel overwhelming or isolating into something structured and expressive. I don’t write to revisit pain, but to understand it, and sometimes to reclaim it. I think there’s something powerful about putting language to experiences that are often difficult to speak about. I hope readers take away a sense of recognition and comfort, that they feel less alone in what they’ve been through, and maybe even a little more understood. If my writing can make someone feel seen, even quietly, then that means a lot to me.

Congratulations on your brand-new poetry collection, Growing Pains! What inspired this book?

Thank you so much. The inspiration behind Growing Pains comes from a deeply personal period of my life that unfolded over several years. It was shaped by experiences of love, loss of self, and ultimately healing after an abusive relationship. Writing became a way for me to process what I was going through and to make sense of emotions that felt overwhelming at the time. The collection really traces that emotional journey: from the intensity of love, to slowly recognising the reality of the situation, and eventually finding the strength to leave and begin rebuilding myself. At its core, it’s about survival, self-awareness, and reclaiming your sense of identity after losing it.

Is there a poem—by another writer—that has profoundly influenced you, and why?

Olivia Gatwood’s ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl’ profoundly influenced me. Lines like, “You wanna know my name? You never call me by it anyway,” “let’s play make believe with my body… Let me build myself smaller than you, let me apologize when I get caught acting bigger than you,” and “for a moment, I looked so human, the audience lost interest” hit me hard early in my poetic journey. The poem articulated something I hadn’t yet found the language for: the pressure to shrink yourself into something consumable, lovable, or easy for others to hold. Gatwood’s writing showed me the danger in performing womanhood for approval, and taught me to resist making myself smaller just to fit someone else’s narrative. Her work gave me permission to take up space honestly in my own writing; to be sharp, vulnerable, angry, human, and unapologetically visible.

Is there a poem in this collection that holds special personal meaning for you? We’d love to hear the story or inspiration behind it.

This collection was written during a period in my life when writing became the only way I could hold onto myself. Poetry was how I tried to make sense of grief, survival, isolation, and the slow process of rebuilding after a dark time. One poem that holds especially deep personal meaning for me is The Monday I Returned. It was born from the experience of leaving a relationship that had completely unravelled me, and then immediately being expected to continue functioning as though nothing had happened. I didn’t take time off, even though I probably should have. I work from home, which only intensified the isolation; there was no separation between survival and responsibility, no space to properly process what I’d escaped. 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 captures the strange loneliness of trying to carry on while internally collapsing. Months later, my mother died, and the poem took on another layer of grief entirely. The same routine, the same forced busyness, became something heavier. I write, “each Monday becomes a memorial, to courage I’m not sure I had, to losses that refuse to be named in full.” I close the poem 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.” I think that question sits at the heart of the entire collection. So much of this work is about the difference between surviving something and actually healing from it.

What are some of the aspirations you have for your poetry and literary career moving forward?

I want to keep growing as a writer and continue refining my voice, while staying honest to the themes I already explore: mental health, healing, love, and self-discovery. My hope is to keep sharing my work with a wider audience, whether through future poetry collections, collaborations, or live readings, and to create spaces where people feel seen in what they’ve been through. More than anything, I want my writing to keep evolving with me, and to stay rooted in authenticity and emotional truth.

What advice would you give to emerging female poets who are just beginning their journey?

Keep writing even when it feels messy or uncertain; your voice doesn’t need to be perfect, just honest. Don’t be afraid to write about what feels too heavy or too personal; those are often the places where the most powerful work comes from. And most importantly, trust that your perspective matters, even if it doesn’t look or sound like anyone else’s yet.

Before we wrap up, is there anything else you’d like to share with our readers?

I’d just like to say thank you for taking the time to engage with my work. Growing Pains is very personal to me, but I hope it resonates with readers in their own way. If it can offer even a small sense of comfort, understanding, or recognition to someone going through something similar, then that means a lot to me.

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