I've been institutionalized.
To institute a new literary journal isn't as complicated as it may seem, but I wouldn't say it's easy. With minimal tech savvy, anyone can bring something resembling a journal into existence. The trick is making it worthwhile.
Worthwhile is relative. It is also subjective. Possibly undefinable.
Our world is fraught with problems. I don't need to provide a laundry list; the statement is self-evident. Relative to that, one more literary journal isn't a blip on the radar. At the same time, it's an Earth-changing genesis event. Another place to visit new or familiar voices? Check. Another place for creative work to surface? Check. Another breeding ground for creativity? Check.
It's what the world needs now.
How do we measure "worthwhile": by value or volume? Value conjures the ultimate subjectivity. Volume is easier to measure, but against what standard?
Inkhorn Review is subject to my values, my tastes. I am not the one to judge whether its existence is worthwhile globally, but I can say it is to me. The volume is arbitrary in this case. With no standard for volume, measurement is ineffectual.
If a trick is both relative and subjective, how can we say whether it is successful? I've often faced this question while creating Inkhorn. Selecting pieces, establishing policies and procedures, making a place for all of it to live—these things entail a litany of choices. I would argue that their relativity and subjectivity place their value and volume beyond quantifying.
Which circles back to my original point, which is the reason that creating an institution such as Inkhorn Review seems both an incredibly worthwhile activity and one that leaves me on the verge of needing to be institutionalized.