Editors’ Note

Quirk 2021 (Vol. 27.1)

Our lives change drastically in ways we may not expect. When COVID-19 strutted on the scene, we moved from gatherings with our peers to online learning environments. We turned isolation into constructive solitude while the large parties became experienced through a screen. Quirk had to change, too. One of many firsts, our literary journal debuted in an online format last spring; it was a daunting but rewarding journey for all involved. A year later, we, the Quirk editors of 2021, had the difficult task of fortifying what our predecessors had built.

We were tussling with whether to have a theme for the year or to allow our contributor’s work to stand on their own, creating the theme for us. Unanimously, we chose the latter. As we read and carefully reviewed each submission, we noticed a common thread across all genres: the desire to communicate and managing loneliness. With the new platform––widening its reach and increasing its accessibility to people across the country––our 2021 issue has received a greater range of diverse voices, a feat unseen in any other year!

Inclusion and championing novice and seasoned voices alike are our top priorities. In this effort, we added a new category: ASL (American Sign Language) Video and Performance. It was a challenge for us, as all editors, except one, are not fluent in ASL. Yet we are proud of the progress and efforts in exposing people to the visual language. Like our new category, each genre opened us up to things that we had never seen or heard of. All of our contributors showcase vulnerability in their creations, giving us the chance to feel something––good, bad, sad, or otherwise. Their work is intense and surreal, presenting unique and quirky topics, crafting a bond between creator and their audience as an act of community. There is an idea that resonates throughout each piece: it’s more personal to not be in person because the personal has become more universal.

When expression becomes distant, how do we maintain our connection to each other? Rather than a bound journal––with pages you can touch, where a papercut seems imminent, the crisp or frail flesh of its paper determining how you turn the page to experience the next––Quirk’s 2021 online issue is comprised of pieces that remind us that the stories we read and see are (or can be) real and felt, in mind and heart, through our screens.

Unlike quarantine, the work you will dive into is not monotonous. Unexpected, compassionate, relatable, heartwarming, and a necessity describes this year’s collection best. We can witness the individuality within each piece, and we can especially witness ourselves in them. Read assured––you’ll feel the same.

The Quirk Editors