There's nothing worse to a writer than looking down at a blank page and feeling fear. The white paper, be it digital or not, slowly causing you to go snow-blind, is enough to drive any writer mad. As I stare at my own blank page for God knows how many days in a row, two days after the official deadline has come and gone, I wonder how it is I’ve not written a single word. It’s a Chief Editor’s note, that’s all it is. I’ve written several on multiple topics. I always have something to say, something to put out into the world.

At first, I thought it was just writer’s block. After all, I’ve had writer’s block before with millions of ideas floating in my mind trying to cram out of the creative doorway all at the same time getting stuck elbowing each other in haste. That I’ve learned to handle over the years. This time, however, it’s different. My mind is empty. Or not quite empty, more so ephemeral. Every thought, every topic, every idea is like a ghost, barely there; I could write about how higher education students don’t really get a summer vacation, I could talk about the very serious issue concerning our faculty losing another lit professor position, and I could certainly write about the municipal election results. Yet…as my former roommate from Glasgow likes to put it “I can’t be arsed to do it”. And here is the perfect place to plaster this disclaimer—It’s not because I’m lazy, I’ve spent hours with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. It’s simply that nothing feels tangible, my hands freeze with every idea that slips my mental fingers, and my brain short circuits as the frustration of the whole situation reaches peak levels.

Usually it’s just a matter of untangling the ideas into words that make sense, now it’s like that sad video of a raccoon trying to wash its cotton candy as it melts into the water with here my thoughts being the cotton candy soup the raccoon desperately tries to grasp at. I guess that makes me the raccoon in this scenario, and I’m surprisingly okay with that.

Even now I can feel my thoughts drift into nothingness, just turning into mushy baby food, maybe the mango stir kind, I don’t know. This is all very new, and yet the whole situation feels strangely ever-present and all-encompassing. Definitely not just writer’s block.

Burnout.

That’s what my therapist—a.k.a common sense filter extraordinaire—says this sounds like. I guess I get the idea behind the name—you’ve tried your best and burned the candle from both ends and then…no more candle, quite literally burned out. And yet, I find myself in a Robert Frostian debate over fire and ice, because when I think of how every spark of inspiration and boost of productivity gets snuffed out by this screwed up state of mind I’m in, I get transported to New Year’s Eve 2020; a vivid memory of my friend, huddled in her winter parka, shivering with one of her hands holding onto a stack of unlit sparklers and the other flicking a lighter furiously in the bone chilling cold Helsinki midnight, enters my mind. She tries and tries to fan the spark into a flame, but the wind howling around us keeps foiling her attempts. No matter how much she shields the bloody lighter and sparklers, there’s not much she can do. And as the countdown to the year changing approaches with a dramatic 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2…and one, no miracle happens. The sparklers remain unlit and massive booms cover the black sky with colors and gold.

I feel like that lighter. Desperately trying to spark something beautiful into life, only to get screwed by circumstances out of my control. In hindsight, the funny thing about that story is that though the sparklers were not lit, the night was still spectacular. We stood outside, gazing at the sky, watching the symphony of fireworks and smoke paint an urban masterpiece before our eyes.

In case you’ve made it this far through the article and you’re wondering how all this rambling is going to come together, I’ll put you out of your misery and attempt to connect the dots. My mind, whether you choose to imagine it put out of commission by fire or ice, has been a mess, a candle burned out of both ends, a lighter with a dying spark, a raccoon trying to wash its piece of cotton candy in a puddle, et cetera, et cetera…Now, seeing as this piece of writing has made its way onto our newest issue, it stands to reason, just like those fireworks on the first night of 2020, something managed to inspire me enough to push through the fog and find something tangible to write about. That something was my fellow editors and BTSB staff. Reading through their articles for this issue reminded me of why I love doing this, being their Chief Editor and writing for BTSB. Therefore I’d like to dedicate this Chief Editor’s note to all of the editors who have delighted and inspired us with their thoughts and stories during –an admittedly difficult—past year. So, here goes nothing, to my editors, who inspire like fireworks bursting in the sky:

Hanna Ojala, you continue to enchant me with your creative writing, which is what first encouraged me to join BTSB years ago. Every time I see you’re submitting a short story, my heart leaps in giddy thumps, excited to see what enticing world you’ve crafted with your words for us to enjoy. As the Chief Editor before me, you’ve been such an inspiration and always available for advice or an impromptu art session. The short story you’ve written for this issue is simply another example of the incredible talents you possess.

Vesper, I’m always excited to hear what you’ll come up with for each issue, though you’ve been busy with finishing your MA (congratulations!) this year, you’ve still managed to bring your own unique perspective into BTSB, and I for one am very thankful for the way you make me see my old home town with a fresh new perspective. Your article for this issue once again opened my eyes and inspired me to check out one of those yellow city bikes for an adventure and go fall in love with our city all over again.

Sini Pesola, from your very first submission, you continue to surprise me with your work. The first piece of fiction I read by you reminded me why I loved reading in the first place. That’s an incredible thing to be able to do. The way you take risks and challenge yourself to try writing across genres and styles inspires me to do the same. Whatever you do write, you have a knack for creating a moment, something a reader is drawn into, that is seemingly effortless to you. This is exhibited brilliantly in your short story contribution for this issue, a moment in a coffee house I could’ve sworn I’ve visited.

Annika O’Connor, where to even begin? Reading your “rants” as you call them, makes me feel like perhaps I’m not so alone in the world. You say what a lot of us are thinking and experiencing, and you say it in such a witty way! You have a voice that is so quintessentially yours, and you’ve found a way to use it to your advantage. Your works have inspired me, comforted me, and made me laugh out loud throughout this year, and your latest piece of writing is no exception—you’re right, it’s not a bed of roses and it’s sure not easy, but with your “rants” to look forward to, it’s a bit easier to bear.

Henna Houttu, I have been beyond delighted to see you spread open your wings and take the leap into trying new types of writing with short stories and poetry. They’ve been such a good add to our selection, and I can hardly wait to see what you’ll come up with next. Though you’re not publishing in this issue, you’ve been such a solid team player (even though you demolish us all in Cards Against Humanity) that all I can do is to thank you for the spirit you bring to our team in BTSB.

Robi Vuokko, as one of the newest additions to our editor team, I have to say I knew from the first issue meeting you attended that you’d be fitting into our merry band of misfits perfectly! It has been so exciting and rewarding seeing you grow as a writer and take on topics that have been so relative to the times we’ve lived through, almost providing a comforting sense in contrast to the craziness that is the world today. I feel good knowing someone like you is on board with BTSB for the following years to come, as I excitedly await to see where your story goes. The poem you’ve submitted for this issue, I feel, is a perfect exhibition of what I mean.

Leonardo Chinchilla, though you’re saying good-bye to BTSB, I doubt we will ever forget the time you’ve graced us with your presence. You’ve written things that have made me question my intelligence, things that have made me think furiously, things that have made me experience realizations like no other, and things that have painted such vivid pictures, created such tangible feelings, and made me miss the sun, the sea, and chaos. You’ve brought with you an infectious sense of joy and enthusiasm, and both your works for this issue have inspired me greatly to write something, anything, for BTSB, despite my mind melting away like cotton candy in a puddle. Thank you and Ciao!

Aleksi Jakonen, just when I think I’ve seen it all, read it all, been there done that, bought the T—shirt…you come up with another short story that just expands the unexpectable. Though you’ve not gifted us with many submissions this year, you’ve been a trouper in joining our meetings, always providing impeccable commentary and perhaps a much-needed sense of community beyond the publication. Here’s to seeing you in the next meeting, and, for purely selfish reasons, crossing my fingers to hoping you’ll throw a story (or two) at us soon.

Anthony Herman, starting this year strong and finishing it just the same. It’s been a long time coming, but the second installment to Vows is finally here and I for one could not be happier. Everything you write, to me, feels like an opportunity to fall in love with fiction all over again. There’s a level of playfulness in your words I could only inspire to reach in form, meaning and sound. Whether it be a piece of fiction or a funeral for a wild bird, you always find a way to make whatever you’re doing a little bit more inspired, and that is something I’m very glad to see in this issue.

There are many more people that work behind the scenes for BTSB and those editors who occasionally drop us a diamond to publish, who are all immensely appreciated. Still, through this year this group of editors have been the real champions of inspiration for me. For that, this Chief Editor would like to thank you for the hard work you’ve put in for BTSB through this challenging time and for lighting up the darkest of times with your flames of infectious creativity!