The transition from December to January always feels fraught. Language shifts to that of getting through, of waiting until; it is the language of both overwhelm and depression: I am letting go, for now. This absence of presence, in the words of a friend, is ghosthood in the liminal space between Christmas and the New Year.
Of course, by the time this letter winds up in your inbox, it will be January, the year will be new, I will have gotten through, I will have waited until, I will be better, of course, I will return to myself, enhance myself, I will begin, again, I will be renewed. But as I write this, it is still December, and I am still surrendering to the liminality. In this space, I feel less ambitious, less creative, less curious than I would like to be. To be frank—if it is not already abundantly clear—I am tired.
Pictured, above: a depression nap on a weekend getaway for my wedding anniversary. I am tired, yes, but I am also restless. I am restless because I have been waiting for the rush of the next several months, for the production process of another issue of a literary journal. This new year has been holding the promise of that for months now, and I am so ready to be, now, here; as I write this, I am nowhere.
In the spring of 2022, we will be publishing ISSUE 02 of The Champagne Room. Before that, we will be adding new content to our website as we continue to focus on fostering connection and community and literary spaces. We are excited to devote ourselves to creation, to expansion, to the stress of deadlines, the bustle of completing a project. Every box we check is another phase of growth. Thank you for being with us on this journey.
Love and Light,
Heather
(she/her)
Co-Founder and Editor-in-Chief, The Champagne Room