About Clare


​Clare McCallan is an author, television personality, and journalist whose work focuses on the intersection of virtue and adventure.

She is the writer, creator, and host of CatholicTV's "The Renaissance Room", reaching 15 million homes via cable and 120,000 viewers online. Her upcoming book "Courage to Create: Unleasing your Artistic Gifts for Truth, Beauty, and Goodness" will be released by Ave Maria press in the Spring of 2024. She is the Celebrity Correspondent for the Christian Channel and a film critic for the National Catholic Reporter, roles that have gifted her the opportunity to interview Academy Award winning actors, directors and producers.

In 2023 she spearheaded the sole Catholic coverage of the Venice Film Festival.

A nationally renowned spoken word poet, she has completed two North American tours and has been selected for and completed two artist residencies, at the Gamli Skoli (Iceland, 2022) and the Grunewald Guild (Washington, 2020).. Clare is currently serving as the Creative Director of St. Joseph’s Home for Artisans, a Boston art residency that gives housing to early career artists while encouraging them to give back to the neighborhood through their gifts.

 You can find out more about her journey and work in the award-winning short film, “Clare McCallan: Little Victories” or by streaming her poetry album (“Lice n’ Greys, 2019”) or podcast (“Letters from the Least”, 2021) both available on all streaming platforms.

i MET HIM: THE BEST MAN

i met him series  //  july 1, 2019

​I met him at the end of the dinner table. 


“Ya know what?” I pointed my steak knife at him, carving my words into the air between us. “I’m really glad you’re here. I needed a friend.”
He picked up his own knife and crossed it with mine, signaling the beginning of a duel. “Is that all we are? Friends?”


I faltered, losing ground. Laid my cutlery down in surrender and leaned in. 
“I’m not sure that we can be much else.”

I MET HIM: THE PIRATE

I MET HIM  // JUNE 20TH, 2016

He turned his empty beer bottle upside down, emptying the last drop . Holding the bottle neck to his eye, he peered at me through his makeshift spyglass. “Aye matey, fancy a bite to eat?” 

I rolled my eyes and hopped off my peg-legged barstool. The sticky floor seemed to rock below me. I swayed along with the churning waves in my stomach. 
​

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