Category: editor’s notes

Issue #14 ~ Winter 2024
Note of Gratitude

Dear Reader,

Hello and thanks for visiting and reading. It’s January 2024, which marks the four year anniversary of the inception of this journal and the perfect time for the big reveal of our extra special winter issue, #14 ~”Best Of” TGLR.

Working on this passion project for the last four years, I have learned a great deal, met many talented writers and artists, and gained a deeper appreciation for the process. I recognize that each submission is far greater than a manuscript to consider. It is an exploration of our environment and culture and a reflection of how we see ourselves and our relationships within the ecosystems that surround us. These reflections take many forms and are often raw and vulnerable but the unifying characteristic among them is the artist’s desire to create and connect. This yearning is inherent and when we share it’s worthy of conversation and celebration. For me, to be a small part of someone else’s journey is a gift. I’ve learned that others write for the same reasons I write and in this, we are connected.

Through this experience, I’ve had the opportunity to work alongside quite a few incredible people. Since the inception of the journal in 2020, our team has grown from the original 15 co-founding editors to what is now a team of 25 volunteers. Without them, the journal would simply not exist. And though change is inevitable and some have moved on, each new person brings their own unique perspective and energy to who “we” are as a collective and I am grateful to embrace them all as friends.

I also want to acknowledge those who have been rooting for us since the beginning and who continue to offer advice and support as we navigate through the ever-changing landscape of this “not-so-little-anymore” lit mag adventure. Thank you to Kate Gale, Tom Paine, Kevin Clouther, and Matt Mason. Special thanks, also, to our original website and logo design guru, Michelle Quick.

Closing the loop, I’m grateful to anyone who has spent their precious time reading through the virtual pages of our journal, which is also in print for the first time with this issue! In years to come, The Good Life Review will no doubt continue to grow and change, and as it does, I hope you will return again and again for more.

That’s it for Issue #14 ~ Winter 2024 ~ Best of Edition!

Peace and Love,
~Shyla

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Issue #13 ~ Autumn 2023
Editor’s Note

Dear Literature Enthusiasts and Sweater Weather Lovers, 

I must confess… Autumn is far from my favorite season. It feels way more satisfying to daydream about sitting around a fire pit, roasting marshmallows than to actually do it. When I think about swapping my summer wardrobe for warmer clothing, I cringe. I just don’t want to do it. Summer is my favorite season and I hate to see it go. I also know that autumn’s bountiful color is a harbinger of what’s to come. Pretty soon, those red, brown, and golden leaves will fall (or be blown) from the trees and we’ll be left with bare branches and months of cold weather. What doom. What gloom. What could possibly turn this autumn frown upside down?

The latest issue of The Good Life Review, of course!! And this one is truly a treat because it’s lucky. Lucky #13 – The fourth autumn issue we’ve released since the inception of the journal four years ago and the first volume of our next cycle around the sun.

Call it luck or good fortune or being blessed, but whatever it is, I’m excited for the opportunity to introduce two poems by the illustrious Bob Hicok, “Fire” and “Green Thumb” alongside another “Amazing” poem by our admired and respected Nebraska State Poet, Matt Mason. Having poems by two rock stars poets in one issue is something I never imagined for TGLR, and it’s validation that we are on the right track and getting noticed. I’m grateful to both for allowing us to showcase their work!!

Rounding out the poetry scene, we have three other gems: “Limerence” by Levi Cain, “Mosaic” by Muiz Ọpẹ́yẹmí Àjàyí and “La Niña” by Gathondu Mwangi. All three convey a unique voice created by deft utilization of imagery, rhythm, and tone. 

For nonfiction, we’re featuring one flash piece, “Grandfathered,” by Haley Larson. Haley’s essay poignantly explores the effects dementia has on a person as it takes hold of a body and mind and organically ties that to the nature of how all living things have a lifecycle and body that will eventually fail. The language in this piece is lyrical and her vignettes of thought, compelling.

This issue also has two longer nonfiction essays. “Radio” by Chelsea Yates is a story about a woman who is able to make it through isolation and trepidation of Hurricane Ike because of memories she has of her father. She draws us into the event, to experience it with her, and to experience the connection that she felt with her father across space and time.

Cynthia Landesberg’s essay “Life Must Go On” weaves together thoughts of grief, adoption, and identity through a narrative about the loss of her grandfather. Each section begins with a quote from him that beautifully connects the threads of her journey and leads her to find a measure of peace with complex circumstances.   

In flash fiction, we have two very different stories. “Rock, Shore, Thunder” by Maria S. Picone is a fast-paced and gripping tale about a woman working in a lighthouse that is pushed to the brink by a storm, both literally and figuratively. By contrast, “Moon” by Mrityunjay Mohan is a kind of lyrical wandering where the writing is separated into five brief sections of beautiful imagery. 

For longer fiction, Jason Arias’s story “Clam!” is a must-read about a father’s struggle to reconcile how he feels about the death of his wife while trying to maintain a relationship with their son. This is one of those stories that gets ahold of you and won’t let go. It ends like a punch to the gut and promises to linger in your brain long after you’ve finished reading.

That lingering is a trademark of really good writing and one that makes the decision to publish an easy one. It is one of the things that all the poems, stories, and essays in this issue have in common. The same is true for the artwork that was selected to accompany each piece. In this issue we have three stunning pieces by Ann-Marie Brown, including “And Yet” which was selected for the cover of the issue. Matt Mason’s poem has been paired with “Colt of the Ecocide” by María DeGuzmán. And two other stunning images, “Fire Ring II” by Barbara Sarvis and “Fish Tail”  by Leslie Brown, have both been paired with poems as well. I’d encourage anyone spending time with the issue to check out what these artists said about their work on the Issue #13 artwork page. 

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Though I may have a distaste for autumn, the changing of the seasons is inevitable and a good reminder that without change, we would not have the opportunity to learn and grow. Without that first autumn issue, and the second, and the third, we would not have made it to this point. Without each departing team member, we wouldn’t have the amazing team we have today. And without all of our contributing authors and artists, we would not be able to compile our first ever “Best Of” anthology, coming in Winter 2024. More on that in the weeks ahead.

Until then, dear readers, thank you for spending your precious time with us and for believing in the arts. I hope you find something you love in this issue and that you decide to return for more. That’s it for Lucky #13, Autumn 2023.

Embracing the Pumpkin Spice,
~Shyla
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Issue #12 ~ Summer 2023
Editor’s Note

Dear Friends and Readers, 

If you love what we’re doing, please “put another dime in the jukebox, baby.”

I almost always end these letters by expressing the hope that you enjoy the content we have to offer and enjoy it enough to return again and again for more. Part of our mission and vision is to provide a beautiful and equitable platform for writers and artists to share their work but without you, dear reader, to share it with, we wouldn’t be able to do that. The release of each issue is like a “big reveal” and very much like the final piece of a puzzle that makes this lit mag adventure work. In large part, it is what makes the project so fulfilling and worthwhile.

By the time we get to this point, I’ve become deeply familiar with the nuances, voice, and brilliance in all the pieces and attached my own personal meaning to each. By the time we get to this point, I’m simply giddy with excitement about sharing and celebrating each, and also the issue as a work of art in its own right. By the time we get to this point, I can’t help but reflect on the entire process and all the people who came together to make the issue (and the journal) possible. Let me be clear, the list is long. 

This is our 12th issue and includes the results of our 3rd annual Honeybee Literature Prize so I want to begin by expressing my deep gratitude to the judges of this year’s contest. I’m certain I can speak for everyone on the team when I say we were positively blown away by Roxane Gay and her willingness to volunteer her time and expertise to select the winner and runners-up in fiction. Several members of our team were sitting at a picnic table at Pike’s Place Market in Seattle before AWP started this year when her email accepting our request came through. We were (and still are) star-struck! 

We were also fortunate to have Rodrigo Toscano and Hugh Reilly who were both equally wonderful to work with in judging their respective genres of poetry and nonfiction. All three of these fine folks were kind, thoughtful with their endorsements of the pieces, and generous with their time. Huge thank you to Roxane, Rodrigo, and Hugh, for making this our best contest yet!! 

Of course, quite a bit of effort was involved in narrowing down the hundreds of submissions we received to the finalists in each category. Thanks to the members of our editorial team who carefully considered every submission: Debra Rose Brillati, Ashley Espinoza, Michelle Pierce Battle, Carina Faz, Tacheny Perry, Tana Buoy, Cid Galicia, Cat Dixon, Emily Marvin, Terry Belew, Annie Barker, Joel Clay, and Erin Owen. They collaborated alongside readers Ciara Hoff, Christine Nessler, Patrick O’Dell, Amy Crawford, and Kisha Nicole Foster to sort through the slush pile (a term I have always hated) and select the pieces they felt were prize-worthy. 

The truth is, that we had so many fantastic pieces this year so it was a challenge to choose. I’m lucky to have such a supportive and energetic team, who are always ready and willing to get down to the business of reading and weighing the merits of every piece. They take their role seriously and that’s a key factor in ensuring our success. 

Walking backward even further though, the soul of this issue truly began in the hearts and minds of the authors who were willing to share the fruits of their labor with us. Without their drive, imagination, and passion for writing, we would not have such amazing poems and stories to offer in these virtual pages. This issue features nine outstanding pieces from the winners, runners-up, and honorable mentions of the Honeybee Prize: Tiffany Promise, Rachel Sussman, Kelsey Smoot, Oak Morse, Blake Kinnett, Hemmy So, Nicki Orser, R.J. Lambert, and Pell Williams. Their pieces appear alongside two poems from Nebraska State Poet, Matt Mason, a stage play by playwright, Milton Joseph, and poetry by Isabel Andres with translation by Kiran Bhat. More about the contest winners, including an endorsement for each by our esteemed judges, can be found in the official announcement on our Buzz Blog. 

Our list of contributors does not end there, though. This issue also includes some incredible artwork by several talented artists: Sarah Louise Wilson, Aaron Lelito, Colomba Klenner, Kim Roger Abi Zeid Daou, and Mary Proctor. These pieces were selected because they caught our eye and also because of the ways in which they visually complement the writing in the stories, script, and poems. For details about each piece and the artist who created it, please visit the issue 12 artwork page. 

In closing, I also want to acknowledge some of the fine folks who have offered and continue to offer advice, support, and direction as we navigate our way through the ever-changing landscape of this “not-so-little-anymore” lit mag adventure. My thanks go out to our advisory board: Kate Gale, Tom Paine, Kevin Clouther, and Matt Mason, and to our Spanish translation consultant, Pamela Broadman. Their positive energy, enthusiasm, and encouragement are an inspiration. 

That’s it for Issue #12, Summer 2023. Thanks for reading and thanks for taking your time to dance with us.

Cheers to Shade Trees and Honeybees,
~Shyla
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Issue #11 ~ Spring 2023
Editor’s Note

Dear Friends,

Winter here in Nebraska held on through March but now that it’s April, you can feel that a much-needed change is afoot. The sun climbs a little higher in the sky each day and there have definitely been fewer clouds to obscure the blue. To top it, the temps have taken a turn for the better and those reliable spring bulbs are poking their spears of green through thawing soil and freshly spread mulch. It all feels pretty good… and worthy of extra cheer, which is exactly what I’m aiming at with this note–a little happy dance to celebrate the start of our fourth year in the lit mag business and the release of our 11th issue. Huzzah! 

In my last letter, I touched on the theme of connectedness and between then and now, those of us on the team that traveled to Seattle for our first annual AWP conference definitely had a healthy dose. What a wild ride that was! It’s one thing to communicate back and forth with contributing authors via email, but meeting in person is something altogether different and very rewarding. Of course, we also met many, many new people who chatted with us about the journal and what we are aiming to accomplish (as we encouraged them to send their writing our way). Zipping back and forth from panel talks to the book fair was quite an adventure and the excitement in the air at readings and book signings was palpable. We ended the conference enthusiastically discussing the possibilities for Kansas City in 2024.

Another thing that meeting in person provides is a deeper recognition that each submission is much more than just a name and manuscript to consider. It is a reflection and exploration of our environment and culture, and how we see ourselves and our relationships within the ecosystems that surround us. These reflections are often raw and vulnerable but the desire to create and connect is inherent and when we share, it’s worthy of conversation and celebration. 

I am, therefore, excited to cheer on eighteen writers and artists who contributed work to our 11th issue beginning with feature poet, William Trowbridge, whose ninth poetry collection, Call Me Fool (Red Hen Press), was released last fall. Bill is the former Poet Laureate of Missouri and over 550 of his poems have appeared in numerous literary magazines, anthologies, and textbooks. We are honored to have his poem, “War Time, 1942” in this issue alongside work from Sara Burge, Ellen June Wright, Patricia Aya Williams, Tania Runyan, and Eric Lochridge.

We are also pleased to have another fabulous essay from returning TGLR contributor, Christi Krug. Christi is one of the people I was fortunate enough to meet at AWP, which was lovely. The distinct voice and engaging descriptions in her writing make “Nocturnal Lagophthalmos” a definite must-read. Other CNF essays contained within the virtual pages of this issue include “The Heart and Other Organs” by Nancy Jorgensen and a unique list essay, “The Truth About My Old Haunts” by Elizabeth Collis.

In the fiction department we have a short story, “Roger and Flight 8124” by Dustin Moon, a timely and, might I add, intense flash piece, “Good Friday” by author Richard Stimac, and two micro fictions by Lauren Dennis. 

As it has been since Issue #4, we are also featuring visual art from individuals who sent work they want to share with more people. The photograph used in the cover was sent to us by Aidan Furey of Belfast, Ireland. Aiden submitted his brother Andrew’s work to honor him and get more work into the public domain after Andrew passed away in April of 2022. Andrew was an abstract/nature photographer. Other pieces in this issue were provided by Shrishti Tassin, Vian Borchert, and Beth Horton. 

Putting together each of these issues would not be possible without the time and effort of our all-volunteer team, now 24 strong and hailing from coast to coast across the US. I can’t help but feel fortunate for the opportunity to work with such a great group of people and also continue to connect with faculty and students from our shared MFA program at the University of Nebraska.  

These past three years have been quite a journey and learning experience. While the future is always uncertain, I am positive that we will continue to strive to provide a beautiful and inclusive platform to showcase the work of writers and artists who have shared the fruits of their labor with us. I am also looking forward to working with the judges of this year’s Honeybee Prize: Roxane Gay, Rodrigo Toscano, and Hugh Reilly. 

If you are reading and want a chance to share your work with these fine people, there’s still time. The window for submissions closes on April 30th and all the details can be found on our contest page. 

To all of our contributing writers, thank you for trusting us with your valuable words. To our readers, thank you for supporting independent journals and believing in the literary arts. I hope you enjoy what this issue has to offer and that you will return again!

That’s it for Issue #11, Spring 2023. 

Cheers to Crocus and Daffodil and that Whole Spring Thing,

~Shyla 

Issue #10 ~ Winter 2023
Editor’s Note

Dear friends and lovers of literature, art, and life,

For as long as I can remember one of my favorite past times has been people-watching. Not just people though and not just watching. I enjoy observing and absorbing all the sounds and sights, and feelings a moment has to offer. 

I have distinct memories as a child going with my dad to Gene Leahy Mall in downtown Omaha on Sundays. We would walk around the pond and eventually find a bench and sit for long stretches of time, observing all the other people coming and going. Sure, we went to the slides and fed the ducks too, but mostly I remember the quiet moments spent in observation and contemplation. 

I also fondly remember all the time I spent sitting on a lawn chair on my front porch enjoying a can of Dr. Pepper and bag of BBQ potato chips. I’d stay for what seemed like hours listening to the birds and squirrels in the trees and watching cars go up and down our street. Sometimes, after being there for a while, I’d feel a spark of urgency to capture something I’d been thinking or feeling and pull out my journal to write. 

Writing made me feel more present and more… connected somehow. Connected to what though? I often wondered as these were largely solitary moments. But now that I’m actively engaged in reading and sharing other people’s writing, the answer is clear. It’s connectivity to people, their experiences and observations, and our shared humanity.

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With each of the issues we publish, I have the pleasure of working with about 15 new people I’ve never met before. I have the wonderful opportunity to learn a little about who they are both through their work and also from interactions throughout the process. In these past three years, the proclivity I have for writing my own story has expanded into a desire to help other people–readers, writers, and artists alike–feel this sense of connectedness. 

The want to help others is an inherent core component of our mission as a literary journal but another, more explicit want, is to shine a light on that which might otherwise be overlooked. Thus, part of our mission statement says “We aim to lift up the strange, the daring, the underrepresented; and reveal complexities hidden in the Heartland and beyond.” 

When we composed this statement three years ago, we never dreamed that “beyond” would mean a compilation with voices from Australia, Nigeria, India, Canada, and all across the US. But that is exactly what is included within the virtual pages of this beautiful winter issue.   

Not only is it rich with a diversity of experiences but it also holds true to the part of our mission which speaks to revealing hidden complexities. Moni Brar’s poem, Migrant Wish, for example, reveals the truth that “home” is a notion that exists within the mind, and with her words, she unwinds the kind of grief that can come from not belonging to any “place.”

In an interview, Moni elaborated… ​​“I have this desire to belong to an environment, culture, and country that I feel like I will never truly belong to because I straddle two worlds. So, it’s that living in the in-betweenness and this sense of having a splintered self that I try to reconcile.”

By contrast, Summer Hammond’s nonfiction essay, Iowa Blues and Greens, is rooted in a sense of place and her childhood memories. It overflows with sharp observations and deftly described experiences from her upbringing in eastern Iowa. In each section, we get a deep sense of knowing, both of place and its people. Those pieces merge into one another to form a complete picture that provides insight about a person–who they are, and why.  

Each poem, story, and essay in this issue, in turn, holds a different truth at its core. 

In poetry, we have “Turnings” by Rohan Buettel which beats a drum of contentment while ‘Nikah’ courageously confesses forbidden love while also imparting the cultural consequences of that love. In Soon Jones’s poem “This is How the Body Knows” she seamlessly weaves a narrative that includes complexities of race discrimination, loss, isolation, and personal revelation.

These heavy, heartfelt verses are beautifully counterbalanced by the light in the poem “Portrait of a Body as Spring” by Emmanuel Mgbabor which might make your mind fly forward in time to warm days or lying in the green grass on a cloudless day. Or T.M. Thomson’s poem “Ascension” which might make you want to rise up from wherever you are reading and declare that it’s time to make a change. 

In the fiction story “Who Takes the Bus in LA” by Marc Eichen, we are sent on what first seems to be a jovial ride down memory lane but unravels into a tragically too-common experience shared by many underprivileged persons lost in a sea of urban life. My advice is to read this story, let it sink in for a few days… and then read it again. 

Gargi Mehra’s trio of flash fiction stories “Mothers and Brothers” gives substance to a culture and family dynamic through brief glimpses into poignant moments. And in the 10-minute stage play “Guten Tag, Baby!” Scott C. Sickles sets up and brilliantly executes a scene where a grandmother delves into her memories to recount the time she first met her husband and in doing so helps her daughter and granddaughter learn truths of the past that will forever change their perception of her and their relationships. 

Changing perceptions through the exchange of stories, ideas, and artistic expressions is another inherent value of being a part of the publishing world. It’s meaningful to me to be a tiny part of someone else’s journey and provide a means for them to share their work with a wider audience. This includes the visual artists I’ve met as well, like Gerburg Garmann, who provided the cover art and several alternate versions of the original painting for this issue. “Scarred Beauty” is  striking in all forms and somehow perfectly embodies the spirit flowing through each of the pieces it accompanies.

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Dear reader, we live in arduous and uncertain times and the need for observation, connection, and compassion is greater than ever. Art is a wondrous means through which we may better understand ourselves and the world around us, and find ways to cope, heal, and grow. I’m grateful to you for reading, grateful to the authors and artists who trusted us with their work, and as always, extremely grateful to have such a wonderful team!

That’s it for Issue #10 ~ Winter 2023.

With peace, love, and daydreams of daffodils poking through the snow,

~Shyla