Editor’s Letter: Why I’m Starting a Substack in the Midst of My Voice (and Writing) Transformation
March 6, 2024: Article Published for The Reinvention Series—Written by Our Editorial Director, Casey J. Balon
Now that Casey Jacque has a strong heartbeat of her own (our unique readership numbers reached a new peak last month), I can’t help but feel an even deeper, yet calm and seemingly innate, sense of responsibility to uphold the integrity of our mission—and our promise—to deliver valuable resources for vital creatives.
One of our central tenets revolves around bringing genuine voices to the creative table. Recently, my writing and voice have been walking through their very own growing pains. While my voice is still relatively fluid (and my writing still quite plentiful), it has been a discomforting process of transformation for my ego.
I am no stranger to creative initiation nor expanding my capacity; in addition to supporting my body and voice with somatic practice, as well as engaging in new forms of therapy and creative community, I have recently found Substack to be a therapeutic agent in itself.
Here is my story about what has drawn me to start a personal Substack in tandem with our primary publication in 2024.
Written by Casey Balon
(click here to read about Casey)
Welcome to The Reinvention Series.
Here is exactly what we’re covering in this article:
*click below to navigate directly to the section you wish to read, or continue with the story as you were
1. Exploring places to live out our writing (a Word from Pastor Stephanie Ike)
2. What happens when your voice transforms? (the muddy waters of creative transformation)
3. In the space before the world speaks (listening to the whisper)
4. To the places that feed us (working on life-giving writing projects)
5. Writing is like driving at night in the fog (E.L. Doctorow and natural unfoldings)
6. Playful seasons, rhythmic seasons, and out-of-season seasons (intimately knowing the variety of creative experiences)
7. The creative medicine: pulling roots, planting roots, internal roots (keeping the process of listening open and unintentionally pedestalizing the creative process)
8. Check out some of our current favourite writerly books in our bookshop here (we’re in love with some of these oldies but goodies)
Exploring places to live out our writing:
flushing out the whisper
I remember a word from Pastor Stephanie Ike that said “God will call you to there—to the places that will feed you; you must listen” to where he is calling you to go. “There is a call on your life, a version of you God wants you to meet.”
What happens when your voice transforms?
the muddy waters of creative transformation
I have been longing for a place to share a truer truth. A place where I can flush out my voice. A place where I can write (in glorious longform or uninhibited diary entry style) and not worry about whether or not my prose are truly sick or simply experiencing growing pains. A public place where I can lay my words on the table with intuitive intent, unaccompanied by strategy or authority or cognitive direction.
In the space before the world speaks:
listening to the whisper
Every morning, for the past few weeks—in the space before any consumption of the outside world has crept in—I have been hearing the whisper to explore writing on Substack. The message is distinct, though, that this space is not one to strategically engineer as a pathway for community growth, but (at least for right now) it gets to be a place for deeper writerly connection, a gathering center to delight in the works of others, and a hub to begin sharing my more intimate work. A place to be a facet of my truer truth.
Now feels like the perfect time to reveal (and flush out) a more personal side to my voice as I curate this intimate hub for sharing personal essays, asking pertinent questions, and conducting interviews with brilliant writers & creative folk.
To read more about this reader-supported newsletter voyage, you can click below:
To receive the essays I post during this Substack adventure, you can choose a free or paid subscription for The Vital Creative Substack newsletter here:
To the places that feed us:
and that was that, nothing left to wring out
New York City had been not-so-quietly nestling its way into my heart for the last several years. Last October, during a customary, yet always animated, WhatsApp video call with my bestie across the sea (my youngest brother, who is currently living in Australia), I opened up about my yearning, sharing how my ‘inner journalist’ was aching to be on assignment for a writing job in NY.
“You will be soon.”
And that was that. There was no more conversation to be had; there was nothing left to wring out.
By January, I found myself in The City that Never Sleeps, working on three lifegiving projects. While certainly a divergent train of thinking, I cannot help but compare Substack to NY. Both, in their sage way, beckoning me.
Making the whole trip that way:
writing is like driving at night in the fog
Even before I opened Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, E. L. Doctorow’s quote on writing had etched itself into my psyche, establishing a somewhat calming grounds for my daily practice.
“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
You can make the whole trip that way.
Of course, I have hopes for the connection that may emerge in my Substack space…but my primary intention is to allow the writing to unfold in the most *enriching*, and natural, way possible.
Photo by Toa Heftiba
Playful seasons, rhythmic seasons, and out-of-season seasons:
intimately knowing the variety of creative experiences
As writers, we come to intimately know the variety of creative experiences there are—the vital seasons where the wellspring flows so abundantly we could not clog the stream if we tried; the rhythmic seasons where we lay one stone each day, comfortably partnering with the soul of the project before us; the excruciating phases where we unwittingly attempt to forge and produce when our bodies are beckoning us to rest, step back, transform, or fill (much like striving to harvest in the dead of winter, these are, often times, our out-of-season seasons); and the playful ones where we lovingly receive what life has to offer, enjoying every facet of the process, relating to it with a gentle touch.
This is to say, sometimes the writing flows, and sometimes it is hard.
Evidently, there are many preceding choices that can sway the creative development process in one direction or the other, but, as writers, we do not have the final say.
My intuition says that writing and sharing on Substack may help—may facilitate something, or reveal something. I cannot help but imagine that building intimate community on Substack will also reveal something.
Photo by Liana Mikah
Creative medicine—pulling roots, planting roots, internal roots:
keeping the process of listening open
It is easy to suggest we must simply listen—to the prayers of our bodies or to the prayers of consistency—but it is more difficult, I think, to keep our relationship to the process of listening clear, open, unbound. Such a process is not fixed nor linear in nature. Some (me often being one of them) say listening to our body is a cyclical dance, a familial assembly reacquainting head, heart, belly, and womb…but recently I have found myself desiring, perhaps truly needing, to revisit past questions and teachings I once thought I had securely embraced.
As I circle through my past work, reorienting myself in my current chapter of expression and life, I have found the ‘creative medicine’ I require: a segment buried deep within a masterclass I wrote for our publication in May of last year.
I tend to believe we are rarely alone in our experience; if I have found myself unintentionally ‘pedestaling the creative process’ recently, perhaps others may be dancing with this too.
If you’d like to join me as I revisit, explore, and contemplate the journal prompts from our past masterclass, you can find it linked here: How to Take Your Creative Practice Off The Pedestal While Still Protecting It. (Specifically, I’m diving into the questions offered in the “5th opportunity to get honest” first.)
To close, I simply want to share how deeply enlivened I am to continue to have the opportunity to connect with you in this space, and on Substack. I am incredibly grateful for you presence and support in every way. I could not have imagined what would come of our work at Casey Jacque, and we’ve only just begun. Thank you for being here.
At Casey Jacque, we deliver valuable resources on the topics of whole body health, creative career building, creative direction, intentional travel, sustainable living, love and relating, and more.
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Photo by Nicole Romanoff
Article Written by Casey Balon, Editorial Director of Casey Jacque
Casey is a writer & creative director based outside of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. With a heart for literary journalism, an appetite for adventure, and a spark for creating dynamic — and deeply collaborative — environments, her aim is to bring Genuine Voices back to the Creative Table. When she’s not carrying out an interview, or writing about Creative Vitality through the lens of the body, you can find her hiking with her dogs, regenerating with her fiancé, diving deep with dear friends, or exploring a new country.
Let’s Connect: Instagram @iamcaseybalon, e-mail casey@caseyjacque.com
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