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.

It seems like a lifetime ago I posted the blog that shared my vision to start a magazine. What began on a whim has become a living, breathing thing because of you—the ones who read and subscribe and contribute. Through this venture I’ve had the privilege of publishing the work of over 200 Canadian creatives, many of whom told me Blank Spaces was the first publication to accept them. I count this as a massive honour. It’s one thing to share a vision, it’s a whole other thing to see that vision come to light. And it’s only your involvement that has allowed that to happen.

Snow still fell at the beginning of May as I put the last touches on this issue’s layout. I felt burdened by the weather, by this weighty long winter that threatened to pull at every silver-lining I struggled to cling to. My motivation was thin, my office was chilly, and it felt like the sun would never return to its full summer glory.

Years ago, a conversation with my husband about our personal passions went a long way towards helping us better understand one another. That discussion taught us to make space in our relationship to pursue those things, ultimately resulting in both of us being happier. I would even go so far to say Blank Spaces wouldn’t exist without that conversation.

Sometimes, the span between issues seems enormous when I think about everything that happens in that space. Since our second anniversary edition in September, we released a new anthology (Just Words Volume 2, coming out as the number two new release in Canadian collections and readers on Amazon in its first week); we took to the Toronto Harbour Front for Word on the Street (so nice to chat with so many readers and contributors there!)…

Two years ago, September 2016, I was in my day-job office when the mail-lady delivered the first issue of Blank Spaces. My hands shook as I opened the package, dread coursing through me as I thought of all the people who had pre-ordered the debut edition based on my bold promotion. The night before I had dreamed the issues arrived printed on tissue paper, stapled together haphazardly. Everything was on the line—at least, it felt that way. My reputation, my pride, my future. I had a vision of bringing Canadians together, who, like me, were tired of rejection, tired of the ‘you must be published to get published’ Catch-22, desperate for a place to belong. I pictured a beautiful, glossy piece of art that anyone would be loathe to ignore; something that would be cherished in a collection rather than discarded in a recycling bin.

This edition of Blank Spaces marks the eighth issue. That’s eight collections of Canadian art and literature launched into the world!

If you’re anything like me, winter has a way of beating you down. We romanticize memories of summer and lament the long months using snowman and crying face emojis. In true Canadian spirit, we leave our footprints in the snow, wrap our mittened hands around a Tim Horton’s cup, and increase our forearm muscles as we tackle the ice on our cars each morning. And, on the days when the mercury dips so low our furnaces and wood stoves can’t keep up, we sit in our   offices donning toques, scarves, and wool sweaters, repeating the life-giving mantra: this too shall pass.

Blank Spaces would be nothing without the support of its team, and this month, instead of my normal ‘look how far we’ve come’ bit, I’m going to write a love letter for the women who have helped ‘how far’ become a true reality.

It’s hard to believe I’m writing this piece for the anniversary issue. One year. Whew! To say I’m proud would be a gross understatement. I am thrilled, amazed, humbled, and all the other positive words I’d list here if I didn’t feel the pressure to write something more profound.

When I was in high school, I bought myself a pewter ring of little people holding hands. They circled my finger like the physical manifestation of "Give Peace a Chance." I called it my "O Siem" ring. Music was my heartbeat and it helped me find my story.

My daughter came home from school a few months ago singing Humble and Kind. It’s a beautiful song written by folk singer-songwriter Lori McKenna, and made famous by Tim McGraw.

The short existence of Blank Spaces has been a whirlwind of discovery, excitement, and fear. From my initial announcement (which was only in May!) to this moment now when I find myself writing a blurb for the second issue, life has been filled to the brim with a blurry ‘is this even real?’ kind of feeling.

When the inspiration for Blank Spaces struck I found myself heady with anxiety: would people actually care? What a thrilling surprise to learn that yes, in fact, they do! Canadians are hungry for content that reflects who we are and what we stand for, and I am beyond excited by the great pieces that came across my desk as I sent out feelers, looking for talent and collaborators.