Issue #7 ~ Spring 2022
For your enjoyment, we offer you this bold collection of art and literary work by people who are both close to home here in Nebraska and those far from our familiar doorsteps. With this issue, we have crossed the threshold into our second full year of operations. Although we are still working to establish exactly who we are as a literary journal and organization, we believe we have found our stride with the collaboration, curation, and production required for these quarterly issues.
I’ve personally spent many moons on platforms such as Submittable and Duotrope and have become familiar with a vast number of magazines, journals, and publishers seeking work that fits their particular vision. I’ve seen many calls for writing about specific topics and themes such as racial injustice, environmental concerns, grief, and mental health to name a few. When I read these, it has crossed my mind that we too could put together a themed issue, but have so far not wanted to limit the scope of what writers are sending us. Our vision has simply been to explore the overlooked; to feature work that is extrodinary, provide a beautiful home for the selected pieces, and celebrate the artists who have put their trust in us.
It is interesting to note, however, that as this issue took shape, a theme emerged organically. Our editorial teams all work remotely from their respective locations in Nebraska, Colorado, Indiana, Texas, Missouri, and Iowa and I’m sure they rarely have cross-genre communication. Yet as they began to send their selections to Ed and me, an overarching theme of dying and death was prevalent.
Emile Estrada’s fiction, “Waiting for Things to Die” sets the tone for the issue as it reveals a young boy’s experiences witnessing his grandfather’s life in rural Venezuela. In Georgia White’s flash fiction her character, Iphigenia, is forever stuck at fourteen and forced to repeatedly remember the sacrifice she had no choice in making.
Suicidal thoughts are explored by Sola Damon in her short nonfiction, “Under a Calm Wave, Not Killing Myself” and Craig Moeckly’s stage play, “Dakota County,” involves two characters that are dealing not only with death and loss but also with what it means to have lived life according to someone else’s expectations.
Rounding out this issue are four evocative poems by three new GLR contributing authors, and one returning poet, Stelios Mormoris, sharing his poem, “Mass in Harlem.” Each of these pieces is accompanied by artwork by artists whose work can be found together here.
I believe that the themes in this issue are not a coincidence, but rather an anomaly created by the upheaval the world has endured these past two years; hardship felt by both writer and reader. I’m optimistic that as the spring season brings a revival, it will also allow us to open our doors and windows wide to let light and fresh air in. It has been wonderful to return to a more normal way of being together and moving about the world, even if it is, for many, “a new normal” and I’m hopeful that all things will continue to move in the right direction.
As always, we’d like to thank you for visiting and reading. We’re grateful for your support and also the efforts of the contributing artists and dedicated team of editors that make this journal possible. That’s it for Issue #7 ~ Spring 2022. Next stop, HoneyBee town!!
With Peace, Love, and Strawberry Pie,