Let’s Rally Like The Breakfast Club
Letter from the Editor as published in the June 2024 issue
As I sit down to write this, I am existing in the anxiety and excitement of what is to come. Twenty-four hours from now, I will be on the road to a conference where I will present alongside senior level executives of billion dollar companies and artists who have rubbed shoulders with John Lennon and Yoko Ono and I have to constantly remind myself that I am not too small for this space.
But I feel small. I feel like what I have to offer is so much less than someone with a huge resume who can name-drop a celebrity I’ve loved since I learned to understand music. I fight a constant battle of worthiness in a space that is overrun with classical success.
The truth is I am a self-taught creative. Everything I’ve done is the result of hard work and a constant curiosity. I can’t boast about degrees or wax poetic about massive school debt. I saw a need in an industry that said there wasn’t room for me and I carved a space. That is my legacy.
I am not a martyr for this work. I am a champion of it because I choose to be.
It is human nature to undervalue ourselves, to assume there is always someone who could do it better—and, of course there is, on some level—but there is no one who can do the thing you were called to do with the same magic you will bring to the table.
I work with authors every day who are second-guessing their work, walking that uncomfortable line of being really pleased with what they’ve created, but terrified that it’s not good enough. My response is always the same: creation is vulnerable work.
How did your heart feel while you were creating? Did the magic meet you there? Did your hand serve as a vehicle for the muse?
If an artist can answer yes to even one of those questions then the art is already out of their hands—it now belongs to the world.
As this conference approaches I am asking the same questions of myself and the only thing that matters is this: I fully believe in the message I will deliver and if it inspires one person in the crowd to reimagine their priorities and allow their creative goals to take precedence in a reckless and soul-sustaining way, then my presence on that stage is worthy of the space I’m taking up.
There is room for all of us, that’s what keeps the world interesting and colourful. And sure, we won’t be for everyone, and that’s okay. Because we will be for someone, and when our art, our creations, our passion, our philosophy can effect positive change in a stranger—what a beautiful power that is!
The only reason I feel small is because I’m allowing that insecurity to creep in. That’s not how I want to navigate the world. I want to be loud. I want to proudly own the platform I’m offered. I want my art to stir hearts. And I know you want the same thing.
So let’s do this together. Let’s rally like The Breakfast Club (minus the “criminal”) and claim a spotlight for our art, confident in our worthiness, and proud of these beautiful things we are privileged to make.
Alanna Rusnak
Editor in Chief, Blank Spaces
