Categories
micro monday poetry

The Softness I Owe by Joemario Umana

The Softness I Owe | Joemario Umana

—after Michael Imossan

Because, Michael, when you said you must gift all your tenderness
to the women who planted flowers in your body, I understood.
Because I carry, too, the debt of tenderness to the women in my life.
Unlike you, every man I’ve known has lingered,
bone-deep in presence. They handed down what time had taught
them, and time, through them, keeps teaching.
But where they tried molding a wall, where they tried turning me
into the opposite of tender, the women made me
a garden. Where they taught me to shut the door, flowers
pressed through the hinges, bloomed and held it wide open.
Look, I know how to hold a butterfly and not tear its wings.
I know how to water a flower without drowning it. I know how
to cradle ache and not mistake it for the end. Once,
I almost lost it, my hands curled into the shape
of a tangerine, to summon red out of a man
who called me fruity and laughed. But softness arrived
on time and rescued me, my anger peeled back
into fingers. Not everything needs to be responded
with violence. This, I know, because now, my rage smells
like lavender when it comes. I owe this to the women,
to the supple beings of nature, this softness of mine.
Look at me, velvet as nature. Look at me, not hardened
but held.

Artistic watercolor illustration of a bee on a black circular background.
About the Author:
A young man with short hair, wearing a blue and white checkered shirt, poses against a backdrop of vertical wooden sticks.

Joemario Umana, Swan XVII, is a Nigerian creative writer and performance poet who considers himself a wildflower. A Fellow of the SprinNG Writing Fellowship (2023), he is the co-winner of the Folorunsho Editor Poetry Prize (2025) and the second-place winner of the Rhonda Gail Williford Poetry Prize (2025). He made it into the finalist pool of the Brooklyn Poets Fellowship (2026). He tweets @JoemarioU38615

Categories
interviews

Author Q&A with Matt Mason

Insights from Nebraska State Poet Matt Mason

March 6, 2026

A middle-aged man with gray hair, wearing an orange sweater, sitting thoughtfully outdoors with a green background.



Matt Mason
 served as the Nebraska State Poet from 2019-2024 and has run poetry workshops in Botswana, Romania, Nepal, and Belarus for the U.S. State Department. His poetry has appeared in The New York Times, and Matt has received a Pushcart Prize as well as fellowships from the Academy of American Poets and the Nebraska Arts Council. His work can be found in Rattle, Poet Lore, Prairie Schooner, and in hundreds of other publications. Mason’s 5th book, Rock Stars, was published by Button Poetry in 2023.

Matt’s Poem, 8 Beautiful Things (About this Last Year), is available in Issue #22.

These first few questions are about the piece that was published in the latest issue…

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the origin, revision process, and/or final version of 8 Beautiful Things?

8 Beautiful Things (About This Last Year) was sort of an act of desperation to focus on something positive after so much time in lockdown. I have diabetes, my wife has asthma, so Covid precautions weren’t theoretically about helping others stay alive, they literally hit home. I did originally plan it as 12 Beautiful Things but felt these 8 did a better job, less cluttered, less forced.

The poem does wonderful work infusing light into what was otherwise a very dismal time for people in the United States and the world. Tell us more about that act of reflection and counterbalance.  

Thanks. That was the goal, writing in spring of 2021, to find positives, to remind myself that the previous year had been about more than just surviving, that there was beauty in it, too.

Knowing that it was about a very specific time period, what can you tell us about the choice not to provide the context of the year? 

I hope that works. I think it’s obvious but, well, I think a lot of things are obvious which clearly aren’t in the world today so who knows. And though the details are specific to the Pandemic, I think it’s important to also lead a reader to reflect on their past year right now and find some beauty as times are always complicated.

What do you hope readers who encounter the poem take from it, especially now, given the current volatile and polarizing climate in our country? 

I hope what they take is just a minute in someone else’s perspective. That’s what poetry is about for me and that’s why I really believe if there was more poetry in our daily lives we’d have a more connecting us to one another. I read poetry not just for enjoyment but to also get to take a few steps in another’s shoes and see a world that’s different from the one my own experiences bring me. 

Switching topics to your recent transition away from being the Nebraska State Poet. In your tenure, you set a goal to visit every county in Nebraska, speaking, teaching, or both, which was a great success. Congratulations!

Now that that is squarely in the rearview, have you set your sights on a new goal or goals? 

Yes! I want to do it again… or keep doing it… or, well, just keep going. I started a new nonprofit, Poetry Forward (poetryforward.org) and am also working through Humanities Nebraska, the Nebraska Arts Council and others to keep doing poetry talks, readings, workshops and more. This is my job now, I see the value it brings into schools and communities as well as to me, so I want to do this forever. But, well, “Professional Poet” isn’t a well-broken-in career path, so it’s a bit of work but, so far, worth it to keep doing what I love and what I’m best at and what I see making a positive difference in the places I present to.

What can you tell us about your time as state poet that not a lot of people might know?

What surprised me the most is how hard it can be sometimes to get a response for a poetry event. Not always, but I think teachers are so busy, many librarians are time-crunched volunteers, and when someone you’re not familiar with calls or emails saying they’re a poet and want to come through, it can get weird. So, yeah, sometimes it got weird. I didn’t get hung up on ever until one county where three different libraries hung up on me when I phoned. 

How do you feel your writing changed through the experience of representing Nebraska as the State Poet? 

I felt I needed to show myself and my writing more value. I prefer being humble and taking more of a backseat, but I found I needed to show poetry as something valuable and you can’t be too humble when you have a title like State Poet unless you want people to think poetry isn’t important.

More about your writing… I seem to recall hearing you speak about writing a poem a week. Is that still something you continue to do? If so, where do you come up with new ideas to keep things fresh?

Yes, I have a deadline of Monday night at midnight and need to start at least one new poem each week. This started due to a poetry writing class I took in college, 1986 or ’87, where the teacher said we’d turn in a poem each week, 10 poems in 10 weeks, and I didn’t think I could do that. And then I wrote 15 poems in those 10 weeks. With a deadline, a serious deadline, you are looking for poems and not waiting for them, and when you look for poems they are all over the place. Mainly, they come in the things you find yourself involuntarily reacting to with a physical reaction: a double-take when you see something beautiful out your car window, a sigh at something ridiculous a friend says, a clenched jaw at some stupidity in the news. These are all things we forget 5 minutes later but, if we’re looking for a poem, we might at least write a note about it for later. In every day, there’s at least 5 or 6 poems for everyone to write if we’re looking for them.

Do you write in genres other than poetry? 

I really don’t. I have published a couple essays but really just love and focus on writing poetry. And emails. And answering lists of questions for literary magazines.

Give us some insight into your revision process? That’s a huge topic, so feel free to pick a specific aspect of craft or revision and speak to that. 

Revision is crucial. I don’t consider myself a great writer but I DO consider myself a great editor, so it’s in revision where my poems come together. I write by hand in a notebook, then scratch things out, change things up, often end up with a page that’s hard to read with all the additions and arrows and codes to insert a stanza from another page somewhere. I read the poem out loud over and over as it’s different in the air than on the page, showing me changes. Then when I type it up, the poem is completely fresh again, looks completely different, and I can work more on the shape of it (the stanzas, more with the line breaks, indentations, etc.). I enjoy revision because, for me, its takes the ideas which inspired me to write and helps them take a shape which does them more justice than my first drafts.

And finally, a few very TGLR questions…

In 2023, we asked you what the first thing is that you think of when you hear the phrase ‘the good life’. You responded that you “think of living with peace in your heart, living a life with integrity and value, truth and beauty.” What is the second thing you think of?

Life with less anxiety.

Many of the people we publish are early in their journey as writers. What advice would you give them about the road ahead? 

Enjoy it. Reinvent your genre: don’t write what you’ve been told a poem or a story is, write in the way and about the things you wish you saw more of in the writing world.

Do you think Lucia would share that cookie recipe if we ask nicely?

No. She’ll always be changing it.

Illustration of a honeybee on a black circular background, showcasing a watercolor design.


Thank you, Matt, for being a big part of our literary community and for your involvement and support in helping TGLR grow and thrive. We also appreciate you for spending extra time with us on this Q&A and wish you the best with the Poetry Forward project, writing, and all of life’s endeavors!

Categories
micro monday poetry

Her Shanghaied Sailors   |    Tarn Wilson

A poetic description of a female captain leading her crew on a metaphorical journey, emphasizing her unique style, wisdom, and nurturing role.
Artistic watercolor illustration of a bee on a black circular background.
About the Author:
A woman with long blonde hair smiles while resting her chin on her hand, wearing a dark sweater and earrings, with a blurred outdoor background.

Tarn Wilson is the author of the books The Slow Farm, In Praise of Inadequate Gifts (Wandering Aengus Book Award), and 5-Minute Daily Writing Prompts. She is taking a break from prose and shamelessly flirting with poetry. She has recently been published in Only Poems, Pedestal, Potomac Review, Rattle, Sweet Lit, and more.

Categories
interviews

Author Q&A with Frank Gaughan

Interview Highlights with Frank Gaughan

February 13, 2026

An orange watercolor illustration of a bee on a blue textured background.



Frank Gaughan
is a fiction writer and educator based in New York. His short fiction appears in Arcturus, and he is completing a collection of contemporary short stories. His academic writing on composition pedagogy has appeared in College Composition and Communication and Inside Higher Ed. He teaches composition and ESL at Hofstra University. His short fiction, The Grieving Scar, is available in Issue #22.

Tell us about yourself.

I live with my wife and daughter in New York. I teach English composition at Hofstra University. I’ve worked there for over twenty years now. I appreciate the opportunity to continuously work with young people. Among other advantages, doing so helps you to see how reading and writing practices evolve.

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the origin, revision process, and/or final version of The Grieving Scar?

I’m happy with the ending, and I’m rarely happy with the way my stories end. I wanted Susan and Carson to meet again, and I wanted AZZO and Bennington to have a legitimate story arc.

What did you learn (about yourself, craft, or life in general) through writing and revising it?

There’s an element of humor and absurdity to life. It’s hard (at least for me) to render those elements in fiction, but I was able to do it in this case by paying attention to Carson, by allowing him to be insistent on his feelings.

What do you hope readers take from the piece?

You mean a lesson? The piece was fun to write, and I hope readers take some joy from reading it. I didn’t have a specific moral that I was trying to convey, but Carson is interesting to me because he refuses to be indifferent about his breakup. I doubt he would think of things that way, but that’s how I see him. When Susan and Carson meet at the end, they have another kind of conversation about indifference.

What fuels your desire to write (or engage in other creative outlets)?

It’s fun to write creatively. Where there was nothing before there is something now. I enjoy the process of making things. In this respect, I don’t see a huge difference between writing fiction and writing a course design or a lesson plan for class. Both are creative processes where I’m in charge of the direction and where I have to live with the outcomes.

What has drawn you to writing fiction? What other genres do you write?

We understand through story. In good stories, we also empathize. If I can create a story where there was nothing before and also have that story that help someone understand and empathize, I’ve done my job. I write poetry too, but I don’t think I’m especially good at it.

What have been the biggest influences in your writing?

My parents and my wife—excellent readers, all. My daughter, who has an intuitive sense of humor and narrative structure. My students, who as a group have a low tolerance threshold for boring stories.

How do you make expression a part of your daily life, or how do you find a balance between your writing and other responsibilities?

You have to write even when you don’t want to, and even in suboptimal conditions. If you only have 30 minutes that day, then write for 30 minutes so that you’re in a position to do better the next day.

Are there any special projects, other pieces, or books you’d like to promote?

I came across Jan Kerouac’s Baby Driver recently, even though it’s been out in the world for 40-plus years. She was firing on all cylinders there. Beautiful stuff. 

What do you think when you hear, “the good life”?

People being good to one another, regularly and reliably.

Illustration of a honeybee on a black circular background, showcasing a watercolor design.


Thank you, Frank, for being a part of our growing literary community and for spending extra time with us on this Q&A. We wish you the best with writing and all life’s endeavors.

Categories
micro monday poetry

Valentine’s Night in County Clare by Dan Thompson

Valentine’s Night in County Clare
by Dan Thompson


Walking away from O’Connor’s pub
on a cold February night in Doolin,
each step further away from the music –
the same jigs and reels already here
two hundred years ago tonight
in this place of austere beauty,
the crashing Atlantic forever tackling
the rocks below the village –
it wasn’t the cold that froze me there
or anything else that might have prepared me
for what I saw when I looked up,
the crystals so thick against the black
I felt I could reach up and grab a handful
without any need for a getaway.

Transfixed,
I called out
Look up!
and just as I,
you stopped
in mid-stride.

A “Wow!” of wonder escaped your lips –
As Above, So Below –
your breath repeating a foot in front
the milky midnight way above.

There we stood,
Herd Boy and Weaving Maiden …

gazing forever across the sky
at all that is and might have been.

Artistic watercolor illustration of a bee on a black circular background.
About the Author:
A man wearing sunglasses and a graphic t-shirt is taking a selfie outdoors, with a backdrop of mountains and trees.

Dan Thompson (PhD) is a U.S. Army veteran and former editor-in-chief whose creative and critical work has appeared in a wide range of literary and scholarly journals, including, within the past year, issues of Feral, Canary, Eclectica, The Raven Review, Black Coffee Review, and Jerry Jazz Musician, among others. In an earlier life, he worked as a music producer for educational videos and as a DJ at a country music radio station.

Categories
interviews

Author Q&A with Jake Bienvenue

Interview Highlights with Jake Bienvenue

January 30, 2026

A young man in a Naruto headband making a shushing gesture with his finger to his lips, standing in a fast-food restaurant with a soda fountain machine in the background.



Jake Bienvenue
 holds an MFA in fiction from the University of Montana, where he was the Editor-in-Chief of CutBank. His work has appeared in The Offing, The Baltimore Review, EcoTheo, and others. He is at work on a novel about the Oregon wine country. He lives in Brooklyn. His short fiction, Palimpsest, is available in Issue #22.

Tell us about yourself.

Sure. I’m young, handsome, and I’m getting crazy money. I’m overeducated and restless and by this point practically feral. I live in a windowless room. I have with me about a dozen items. The rest, mostly books and wine, is stuffed in a closet in my father’s basement in Folsom, California. I write ridiculous poems and stories at a desk which would be too small for a third grader. When I pass people on the street I pretend I have no face.

Palimpsest is such a uniquely funny and dark story that reveals a lot about our society. Can you tell us where the idea for this story came from? What other details would you like to share about the revision process and/or final version of this piece?

All my writing comes out of my hatred of work. All of it. In this case, my previous job was as a rentals manager at an arts center in rural Oregon, a role I actually kind of liked. So during the day, when I needed a break from sending emails, I’d wander the halls of this big building, daydreaming. I wrote some of these little fictions down. I kept daydreaming. I realized these daydreams had a perspective, a dreamer who was not me. From there it was a matter of shaping.

What did you learn (about yourself, craft, or life in general) through writing and revising it?

Nothing I’ve published is even remotely like this. It’s mostly been straightforward realism. But I think with “Palimpsest” I got more comfortable with weirdness, with just saying shit I think is striking or funny, and not worrying about how it’s going to cohere. It’s a trust thing, I think.

What has drawn you to writing fiction? What other genres do you write?

I just love stories, honestly. I love making things up. Like wouldn’t it be goofy if this happened? But with fiction, instead of wondering, you construct then inhabit a narrative perspective, you say, “Something very goofy did happen, and I was there, I saw it.” I also love poetry and that’s what I’ve been writing lately. I’ve published creative nonfiction and criticism too.

What have been the biggest influences in your writing?

Walt Whitman, the Bible, anime. In no particular order.

How do you make expression a part of your daily life, or how do you find a balance between your writing and other responsibilities?

If art is the negative of productivity, and I think it is, then my writing consists of moments I’ve stolen back from my life, whether that’s work or leisure or laundry. Maybe I’m not explaining myself well. That’s okay too.

Are there any special projects, other pieces, or books you’d like to promote?

I think if you have any interest in me or my work, which you should not, I’d encourage you to read a very short nonfiction piece I wrote for The Baltimore Review, called “Gold Country.” It’s very different from “Palimpsest” but I think with both you get a sense of where my work is right now. Or where it was about a year ago, really.

What do you think when you hear, “the good life”?

I think of a huge pile of mulch I have to spread on a Saturday morning. I think of rows of white houses with two-car garages. I think of sapling poplars attached to growth stilts. I think of Traeger grills and cold pools. Heat, summer, Yeti coolers. Things I’m a visitor in. Probably this is not the answer you were looking for. Now I’ll think of an excellent literary magazine in Nebraska!

Illustration of a honeybee on a black circular background, showcasing a watercolor design.


Gold Country” is a fabulous piece, Jake! Thanks for sharing. Thank you, also, for being a part of our growing literary community and for spending extra time with us on this Q&A. We wish you the best with writing and all life’s endeavors, except maybe work, since your distaste for it seems to be particularly fruitful.

Categories
micro fiction micro monday short fiction

House Party by Dory Rousos Moore

House Party | Dory Rousos Moore

I start on my second coat of Red Hot, the boldest color of nail polish I could find, carefully painting each nail. Aviva and I sit on our apartment balcony, our shiny legs long on the railing, hot air balloons in primary colors floating above us as everyone starts to arrive. When her new boyfriend’s black Grand Am swerves into our complex, she jumps up, her drink spilling over the edge. The way she falls in love is with a whoosh, like she’s being sucked into a vacuum, and the way I fall in love is by pretending not to. 

Moments later, Raj crosses the parking lot from his apartment to ours with long strides, grinning up at the balloons and clouds drifting toward the horizon. With graduation next weekend, we soon won’t be living close to each other for the first time since college started, and we became friends, walking to classes together and talking the whole way, drinking Red Bulls while studying for our physics exams, our laptops set up on his beer pong table as the sun rose purple-orange outside his front window, a meeting of chemistry and wonder.

In the living room, the roar of the music, bass turned up, vibrates the walls. Conversations punctuate the air with exclamation points, and the strawberry Boones Farm fills my body with soft static. Aviva is making out with her boyfriend in the middle of the room with one hand in the air, like she’s on a rollercoaster or praising God. 

Refilling my solo cup, I look at Raj across the crowded room, watching everywhere his eyes land, his irises the whorls of a fingerprint that I want to press into me. I’ve kissed boys I don’t know at parties, but never the one that I love. When his gaze finds mine, instead of glancing away, I hold on, walking toward him.   

A watercolor illustration of a bee on a black circular background.
About the Author:
Close-up portrait of a smiling woman with long dark hair wearing a blue shirt, sitting inside a vehicle.

Dory Rousos Moore lives in Ohio with her husband, three rambunctious sons, and opinionated rescue dog. This is her first prose publication. Her poetry is forthcoming in Modern Haiku. A dedicated daydreamer, she loves reading for hours and letting her optimism lead the way. You can find her at dorywrites.bsky.social.


Categories
announcements

Sub Window for Issue #23 Closes Soon

We’re open for our Spring Issue, but the window is closing soon…

A colorful announcement with a blue background, featuring the text 'Submission Window Closes January 20th' in bold orange letters, a yellow bee illustration, and information about a $60 submission fee and nominations for multiple prizes.
(Click to access the magic portal)

We are currently reading for Issue #23. We publish poetry, short fiction (up to 5000 words), flash fiction (up to 1000 words), short cnf , and flash cnf. We nominate for Pushcart, Best of the Net, Best New Poets, Best Small Fictions, Best Micro Fictions, and Pen Short Story Award, AND pay $60 per piece published in the seasonal issue.

Guidelines are available on our submission page, and the form to submit is on Submittable. The fee is $3, and a fee-free option is available for those who need it (please email editors@thegoodlifereview). But don’t wait, the window closes in one week!

A vibrant promotional graphic announcing free submissions, celebrating spring and summer, with a background that evokes a creative atmosphere.

We also want you to know… 100% of the work we publish is unsolicited, and each piece that lands in our queue is handled with care, given serious consideration, and evaluated by two or more people from genre-specific editorial teams, including both editors and readers.

A watercolor illustration of a bee in shades of yellow and orange on a dark background.
Categories
micro monday micro nonfiction

The Taste of Absence by Bethany Bruno

The Taste of Absence | Bethany Bruno


My father drank black Maxwell House from a repurposed Big Gulp cup, the kind with a faded NASCAR logo and a plastic straw he never used. Every morning, long before the world stirred, he filled it to the brim and cradled it between his knees as he drove to work. No cream. No sugar. Just heat, grit, and something close to devotion.

He called it fuel, though he never rushed through it. He sipped slowly at red lights, windows cracked even in July, letting the scent of burnt coffee mix with wet palm air and the steady hum of morning sprinklers. The South Florida sun always rose early, golden and mean, but he met it with caffeine and stubbornness.

On weekends, he used the “Grumpy” mug I bought him when I was twelve. We were at Disney World, sweating through a heat advisory, and I picked it out with the kind of glee only a child feels while gift shopping. Grumpy had always been his nickname. He was famously irritable before his first sip of coffee, muttering through breakfast like the day had personally offended him. 

The mug was heavy, white ceramic, with Grumpy’s furrowed brow and crossed arms printed on the side. I wrapped it in tissue paper and held it behind my back like I had smuggled treasure. He drank from it for years, even after the handle chipped and the cartoon face faded to a ghost of itself.

He died in 2016. Six months from diagnosis to gone. Cancer took his voice first, then his appetite, then the rest. His work boots stayed by the door. His Big Gulp cup stayed on the counter. Some mornings, he still made coffee, but by the end, it was mostly untouched, the steam rising while he slept through the daylight. The bitterness outlasted him.

Since then, I have tried every method of coffee making. French press. Pour-over. Chic glass carafes with wooden collars. None of them feels right. They are too clean, too careful. They don’t know what it means to keep going. The smell of Maxwell House from a plastic tub still carries more weight than any hand-picked Ethiopian blend ever could.

Each morning, I make coffee. I press the button and wait. I listen for the sputter, watch the steam curl into the quiet. I pour a cup and drink it black.

It is not good coffee.

But grief has a way of anchoring itself in the ordinary. It clings to routines, disguises itself as habit. Sometimes I open the cabinet just to look at the Grumpy mug, still tucked behind the others, its handle glued back together with a crooked seam. I never use it. I am afraid the crack will not hold. I am more afraid it will.

Love, when it lingers, finds its voice in the bitterness. It slips into the places we thought we had cleared out. I drink, and he is there.

Still warm. Still rising.

An artistic illustration of a bee in shades of amber and gold against a black background.
About the Author:
A woman with long, wavy hair smiles at the camera, wearing a colorful top and a black cardigan, set against a neutral background.


Bethany Bruno is a Floridian author and amateur historian. Born in Hollywood and raised in Port St. Lucie, she holds a BA in English from Flagler College and an MA from the University of North Florida. Her writing has appeared in more than seventy literary journals and magazines, including The Sun, The Huffington Post, The MacGuffin, McSweeney’s, and 3Elements Review. More at bethanybrunowriter.com.

Categories
announcements

Introducing Issue #22 ~ Winter 2026

Welcome to Winter and the Best of our Best: A Stunning Collection of Poetry, Prose, and Artwork

January 8, 2026

Cover of The Good Life Review, Issue XXII, featuring silhouetted birds flying against a vibrant orange sunset, with publication details in the corners.
“Impressions of Waking Cranes” by Kim McNealy Sosin

Dear Lit Mag Enthusiasts,

We’re excited to announce the release of Issue #22 ~Winter 2026. This issue is a “Best Of” Edition that features some of our prize-worthy pieces from the past two years, plus bonus new work from Matt Mason (Nebraska State Poet 2019-2024), Jake Bienvenue, Frank Gaughan, and the Nebraska Writers Collective 2025 Kate Sommer Memorial Poetry Prize winner, Rebecca Oliver! We’re honored to share and celebrate this bountiful collection of amazing work!! 

More in Poetry…
Best of the Net Finalist: How to Hear God While Making Thanksgiving Dinner by Charlene Pierce, 2026 Best of the Net Nominees: what to make of autism by Tim Raymond and ephemera 31 by Chris Lisieski , Pushcart Nominee: Arouse Yourself, why do You sleep, O LORD? by Yin Cheng, and Editor Selected Pieces: Mosaic by Muiz Ọpẹ́yẹmí Àjàyí, True Apothecary by Ellie Gold Laabs, They Put the Graffiti On by Matthew James Babcock, The Year I Carried You by Sara Shea, and 2025 HoneyBee Poetry Prize Winner, Autobiography of a Violin by Cassie Burkhardt

In Short Fiction… Palimpsest by Jake Bienvenue and The Grieving Scar by Frank Gaughan, Pushcart Nominees: Tbilisi by Sara Maria Hasbun, and Mall Goddess by Marilee Dahlman, and 2025 HoneyBee Prize Winner When Mr. Boppo Joined the Cohort by Sharon Lee Snow 

In Flash Fiction…
Best Small Fiction Winner Razia, Razia by Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar,
2026 Best Small Fiction Nominee and 2025 HoneyBee Prize Winner: While Making Out the Lineup for Tomorrow’s 12U Softball Championship Game by Jim Parisi, other Best Small Fiction Nominees: The Next Empty Cup by Myna Chang and The Summer He Left by Alison Ozawa Sanders

In Micro Fiction…
Best Small Fiction Nominees: Return by Adesiyan Oluwapelumi and Drunk Husband Crashes Yard Sale by Alice Kinerk, and Best Micro Fiction Nominees: Closure by David Obuchowski, A Haunted House at the End of the World by Autumn Bettinger, and Once I Lived in Heaven by Mea Cohen

In Short Creative NonFiction…
2025 HoneyBee Prize Winner: The Laundry Hangs at Noon by Ginger Tolman and Editor Selected: Rearview Mirror by Brad Snyder

In Flash Creative NonFiction…
Best of the Net Nominees: My Mother, the Story-Weaver by Kiana Govoni and The Crush of Dusk by Michaela Evanow, 2025 HoneyBee Prize Winner: I Conjure My Great-Grandmother In a Dream; She Gives Me a Lesson on Revision by Alayna Powell, and Editor Selected: I Am a Body Lying in the Grass by Allison Hughes and the doctor says i must milk her body by Camila Cal Mello 

In Micro Creative NonFiction…
Editor Selected: Alary Things by Hilary Fair, Boyfriend Jeans by Heidi Bell, Detroit Salt by Linda Drach, i use google more than i care to admit by Jessica Hudson, and Dungeons and Dragons is by Ryan Stiehl 

In Artwork…
Cover Art and Best of the Net Nominee: Impressions of Waking Cranes” by Kim McNealy Sosin, plus other Best of the Net Nominees: “Haley and Celeste” by Cameron Shipley and Kunik” by Hiokit Lao, and new art by Maia Brown-Jackson. For all art accompanying the pieces in this issue, visit the Issue #22 Artwork page.

We hope you enjoy all of these pieces as much as we do!! This issue will be available in print in a few short weeks. More on that soon!

As always, thank you for visiting, reading, supporting independent journals, and believing in the arts!

Cheers,
~Shyla, Tacheny, and The Good Life Review Team

Issue #22 Editorial Team: M.A. Boswell, Ashley Espinoza, Tacheny Perry, Tana Buoy, Patrick O’Dell, Carina Faz, Amy Crawford, Annie Barker, Debra Rose Brillati, Erin Challenor, Cid Galicia, Terry Belew, Michelle Pierce Battle, Cat Dixon, Stepha Vesper, and Shyla Shehan

Issue #22 Readers: Jamie Wendt, Toni Allen, Zach Vesper, Jill Veltkamp, Julie Johanning, Brittany Turek, Miranda Jansen, Madeline Torbenson, Mitra Vajjala, Julia Sample, Ashley DeVrieze, and Christine Nessler

A watercolor illustration of a bee in shades of yellow and orange on a dark background.