The Curse of the Cursor

Letter from the Editor as published in the December 2020 issue

I don’t believe it’s accidental that cursor seems to be derived from the root word “curse”. As I sit here, overwhelmed with a to-do list (that includes writing this introduction to the December issue), the cursor blinks at me in witchy fashion, and I am empty.

* blink * blink * blink *

Here we are, on the brink of 2021, and we don’t know whether to hold our breaths, hoping that a new year will put fresh wind in our sails, or to batten down the hatches and prepare for more of the same uncertainty.

* blink * blink * blink *

Committing to living the life of a creative means opening the door to uncertainty. In some ways, we’ve been preparing for the wrath of 2020 our whole lives. In other ways it becomes glaringly clear that our art depends on other people and without their support, we’re just a bunch of introverts staring at our cursors or our canvases.

* blink * blink * blink *

Why does it matter? What does it mean?

In many ways, 2020 feels like it’s robbed me of time, but in a very real sense it has forced me to take stock of my goals and ask myself the really serious question of what I want out of this life. What do I want my mark on the world to be? Who do I want to be at the end of all this? Big questions, but to not ask them is to maybe miss the point.

Here’s what I know so far: I want to take that cursor and turn it into a “blessor”. I want to make art that matters. I want to be the champion of your art. I want to always be real, even in these moments of emptiness. I want the cursor to have no time to blink because it can’t keep up with the ideas propelling me onward. I want to see seasons of hardships transformed into seasons of abundance. I want this community to keep growing while still holding onto the value of lifting one another up. Because even in moments of despair, I know I can reach out to my team of volunteers and they remind me that good work is worth the exhaustion, that I’m not alone, and that there’s a beautiful collection of people who believe in the mission of Blank Spaces.

So thank you. To the dreamers. To the believers. To the champions. We are here because you are here. And we’ll keep on going as long as you keep showing up. So let’s take that blinking cursor and make it wink at the future. And trust me, friends, the future is worth looking forward to…

Let’s enter tomorrow with our faces turned towards the promise of a new day.

Alanna Rusnak

     Editor in Chief, Blank Spaces