Choosing Creativity

by - Sunday, December 01, 2019

the Letter from the Editor as it appears in the December 2019 issue

It’s cliché to question the passage of time, but I can’t help myself: where does it go? I’m so excited that over the last few years I’ve been able to check off a substantial number of accomplishments from my bucket list. I’m less excited about the grey hair I found in my left eyebrow last week, or that my oldest son will be leaving me for university in the fall, or that, in less than a month, I’ll be turning forty. There is still so much to be done.

Choosing to live a creative life is a privilege and I am loathe to squander it; yet, in the midst of it all, I pine after the existence of those people who live for the weekend. I fantasize about ignoring my to-do’s so I can focus on doing absolutely nothing.

Reality is, when I allow that desire to take over my life—when I give the old middle finger to that ‘pile’, when I sit on the couch and eat cheese—I am miserable.

But when I put my shoulder to the grindstone—when I work until my eyes blur, when I say yes to new projects and no to a new Netflix series, when I feel overwhelmed but push through it anyway—I feel strong. I feel most like myself. I still eat the cheese, of course, but I do it while reading submissions or writing a new chapter or exploring new ways to foster the community I’m striving to build.

A creative life is not a cake-walk (though it’s good to stop for a slice every once in a while), nor is it a path to glory (though glory can be found in the satisfying accomplishment of a task). A creative life is a choice you make every single day.

For me, it means coming home from my day-job, putting my hair up, slipping into some cozy sweats, brewing another pot of coffee, and bearing down for the birth of new things.

Give me a computer that works, thick cozy socks, a mug with a funny literary quote, and a concise end goal, and I’m a happy pyjama-wearing-cheese-eating-get’er-done lady!

Time is only against us if we let it stop us. My white eyebrow hair and I are staring off into the future with much anticipation. I think Blank Spaces, like a fine whiskey, will only better with age, and I hope you’ll come along for the ride, starting with the incredible contributions that make up this gorgeous issue.

Alanna Rusnak

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© Alanna Rusnak Publishing est. 2016 and Blank Spaces Magazine