Tag: interview

Wasima Khan is a Pakistani-Dutch writer, poet, and jurist from The Hague, the Netherlands. She won the 2025 Willow Springs Surrealist Poetry Prize. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in About Place Journal, Fourteen Hills, Sky Island Journal, Santa Fe Literary Review, Third Wednesday, and elsewhere. Her flash fiction, As If Nothing Is Burning, appears in Issue #23.

Tell us about yourself.

I am a daughter of Pakistani migrants, born and raised in The Hague, a small coastal city in the Netherlands. Here, I find solace in gazing out at the sea, imagining what lies beyond the horizon. Yet growing up as part of an ethnic minority in this country hasn’t always been easy. 

Before turning to creative writing, I studied law and earned two Master’s degrees. That academic achievement did not spare me from explicit Islamophobia while working as a law lecturer. Later, as a legislative lawyer drafting laws for the Dutch government, I saw policy being shaped by anti-immigrant politics and exclusionary assumptions. When I entered journalism in the autumn of 2023, I became disillusioned with the – sometimes conscious, sometimes unconscious – white supremacist undercurrents in Western reporting on Palestine. Even my own work on the occupation and settlements in the West Bank was partially filtered and censored to avoid unsettling certain audiences. Ultimately, that was something I could not accept.

In fiction, creative non-fiction, and poetry, I can tell my own stories, in my own way. Through them, I can seek to offer a deeper understanding than the one I encountered in my own life.

What compelled you to write the story appearing in this issue?

I wrote this piece to highlight the often-unnoticed privilege of everyday safety in the West, set against the backdrop of genocidal violence elsewhere. It is also an attempt to show that, ultimately, we always have a choice in how we use that privilege.

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the revision process or the final version of it?

While writing the story, I found it became a personal exercise in empathy. I do not fully agree with the protagonist, and I actually identify more with their more proactive friend, Amal. Still, I can understand the protagonist’s way of life; one that is, in fact, shared by many in the real world.

I deliberately chose to write the story in the second-person point of view. It’s a perspective rarely used in fiction, and it can be tricky, but here it served the story I wanted to tell. I avoided the first-person point of view because I didn’t want the piece to be mistaken for non-fiction, while the third person felt too distant. Instead, I wanted to slip directly into the reader’s mind. 

At what point in your life did you begin writing and working on fiction?

I’ve been writing for as long as I could hold a pen, though not always creatively. With a background in law, I previously authored award-winning essays on human rights and even compiled a law dictionary. Despite these accomplishments, I only began to call myself a writer – and a poet – last year. In 2025, I finally turned to fiction, driven by a desire to tell stories that not only engage the mind, but, I hope, also move the heart.

It helps that I came to fiction later in life. I bring with me a wealth of lived experience and a deeper understanding of people, which I can now weave into my work. 

You mention being a poet. Tell us about that or other genres that interest you.

I write poems, primarily in free verse. Poetry is the perfect form for exploring minimalism, ambiguity, and the beauty of language. Surrealist poetry, in particular, holds a special place in my heart for the way it allows me to unleash my imagination to the fullest. It takes me back to my childhood, when I would daydream about distant journeys and other worlds.

I also write creative non-fiction. I haven’t let go of my love for essays, but now I reflect on and share my own lived experiences. I have a personal piece forthcoming in Redivider, transatlantic in scope, which explores the impact of 9/11 on both my life and Muslim communities in the Netherlands and the United States. 

When or why did you decide to start publishing your work?

Last year, I made my creative writing debut with the politically charged poem “The Document” in About Place Journal.

As someone with Pakistani roots, I belong to an ethnic minority in the West, which is why I see representation as essential. I view publishing as an opportunity to amplify underrepresented voices. In doing so, I hope to help broaden and enrich the literary canon. I’m deeply appreciative of the work The Good Life Review is doing in a similar vein, helping to foster an inclusive literary community.

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

Writing is a powerful way to cultivate empathy and understanding. It allows me to step into other people’s lives and worlds, and I hope to bring readers along on that journey. 

At the same time, it is a way for me to reclaim agency over my own life and experiences. Too often, I have been confronted with Western biases – simplistic narratives about me, Muslim women, or Muslims more broadly – stories in which I barely recognize myself. In my own work, I aim to foreground nuance and emotional complexity as a way of challenging those assumptions.

I also don’t take the ability to read and write for granted. My mother is illiterate; growing up, she didn’t have the same opportunities I did to pursue an education, let alone attend university. For me, reading and writing are a way of honoring the sacrifices she made so that I could have a better life.

What have been the biggest influences in your writing?

There are literary icons I deeply admire, and it is no coincidence that many of them are Black writers such as Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, Audre Lorde, James Baldwin and Ta-Nehisi Coates. They have shown me how powerful it is to remain faithful to one’s own perspective and vision, even when it is marginalized by patriarchal structures or a white-centered majority. They continue to inspire me and remind me of the importance of sharing underrepresented perspectives and ways of seeing the world.

In the Netherlands, we are still far from where we need to be in terms of literary diversity, equity, and inclusion. In the American literary community, my voice has so far been more readily received, which has, in turn, inspired me to begin writing transatlantic pieces. I look forward to continuing to contribute my transatlantic perspective.

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

I’m proud of two award-winning pieces I wrote over the past year. My poem “Stranger Fruits Grew Here” won the 2025 Willow Springs Surrealist Poetry Prize, and my flash fiction piece “Leaving” received first place in the 2026 Blue Frog Flash Fiction Prize. You never quite know how or whether your writing will resonate, so the judges’ positive feedback was both humbling and reassuring. It has certainly encouraged me to continue chasing writerly excellence. Both pieces, along with other work, can be found on my website: www.wasimakhan.com 

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

Being yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else. That is the greatest accomplishment, as Ralph Waldo Emerson would say.

---

Thank you, Wasima, for trusting us with your story, for sharing your poem (which is fabulous!), and for taking on tough issues! We appreciate your time and participation in this Q&A, and we wish you the best with writing and all life’s endeavors!

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.

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!

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.

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.

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!

“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.

A native Floridian and dual US and Canadian citizen, Sarah Schiff earned her PhD in American literature from Emory University but is a fugitive from higher education. She now writes fiction and teaches high school English in Atlanta. Her short stories have appeared in Pembroke Magazine, Valparaiso Fiction Review, The Saturday Evening Post, and Cleaver, among others. She’s been twice nominated for a Pushcart prize, by J Journal and JMWW, was a finalist for the TulipTree Review’s Wild Women Story Contest, and was a 2024 Jack Hazard Fellow. Her flash fiction, Drained, appears in Issue #21.

Tell us about yourself.

I’m a Sagittarius who likes long walks on the beach. Just kidding—though both are true. What’s also true is that I’m pretty boring. I’m a mother but, as much as I love my kids, I don’t want to be “known” as that. I suspect that few male writers would identify themselves as “fathers”—unless speaking of the glorious work they’ve sired. I’m a high school English teacher, but I don’t consider that who I am. It’s not my calling. It’s something I do because it pays the bills, and I love literature, and I want future generations to appreciate its ongoing relevance despite all the flashy distractions and distortions of our world. I’m a writer, but that title feels especially fraught for all the usual reasons writers often feel like posers and imposters, and especially in a time when readers are an endangered species. What people often see me as is not what I am, and what I am (because of genetics and history) is not always how I identify. Ha, you were kindly asking me a straightforward question, and I got all angsty about it. Blame it on the teenagers I’m constantly surrounded by.

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the origin, revision process, and/or final version of your piece appearing in this issue? 

I drafted “Drained” a decade ago, so there’s a weird temporality to it. The world and our nation have obviously changed drastically since then. But with the renewed virulent rhetoric about immigration and the general state of our world, I felt drawn back to it, and I’m so grateful that The Good Life Review rescued it from my “Ghosted Stories” file. 

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

Despair, frustration, cynicism, hope, obsession, and a lack of awareness about what else to do with these few precious moments of my life.

What has drawn you to writing fiction, and/or what other genres do you write? 

We all know that fiction lies its way to the truth, so I want to promote truth in a world riddled with lies, and I want to add just a little bit of beauty to a world that, at times, can be heartbreakingly ugly. 

What have been the biggest influences in your writing? 

Libraries and bookstores. The more of them that close up shop, the closer we get to the brink.

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 anyone has figured out a sane and healthy way to achieve balance between writing and work/family life, I would love to hear it—especially if it doesn’t involve getting up at 5am.

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

I wish! Although if anyone wants to check out other stories I’ve written, and since we’re all starving for “views” and “clicks,” a visit to my website would be a wonderful treat. If you do, please leave a message with a link to your own writing, and I’ll definitely check it out! 

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

If we’re talking about my personal idea of the good life, it would be sitting on the beach, surrounded by friends and family, getting to hear their joys and chatter while my face is buried in a good book. 

If we’re talking about a piece of writing, then it would be having the opportunity to come to life by being read. Thank you so much for giving my story its own good life!

---

Thank you, Sarah, for trusting us with your story. We’re also happy we were able to rescue it from the fate of being ghosted! Thanks also for spending extra time on this Q&A. We appreciate you and wish you the best with writing and all life’s endeavors! Oh, and happy birthday!!

David Hutto’s work is forthcoming in Little Old Lady, Bookends Review, and Carmina Magazine, and has recently appeared in Southern Quill and Avalon Literary Journal.  In 2024 his work appeared in Paterson Literary Review, The Hemlock, Brussels Review, Literally Stories, Cable Street, Galway Review, Symphonies of Imagination, Mediterranean Poetry, and Mudfish. His experience as a writer includes a residency at the Vermont Studio Center in 2003, as well as writers’ retreats in Mérida, Mexico in 2024 and Dublin, Ireland in May 2025. His short fiction, A Boy Who Thinks Quite a Deal, is available in Issue #21.

Tell us about yourself.

It may sound strange, but I can sit and read a foreign language dictionary for an hour and feel entertained and contented. Everything about language compels me, from the fact that it exists at all, to the differences between languages, to the amazing magic of using writing to createpeople and worlds that did not exist before. I grew up on a farm in Georgia, I have lived all over the United States, and spent time in Russia as a student. By this point, I’ve also traveled the world a bit, which I find fantastically stimulating. My interest in language has sparkled through all of it, so that I’vestudied Russian and Spanish well enough to read them, and I have been writing almostas long as I’ve known the alphabet.

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the origin, revision process, and/or final version of your piece appearing in this issue?

This story began with the leftovers of another story that I eventually hated and threw away. That other story had a few fragments that I liked, the small stories that now appear on the radio in “A Boy Who Thinks Quite a Deal.” I saved those bits without a clue what I’d do with them, and eventually came up with an utterly different story, changing it from adults in New Jersey to a child in Great Britain.

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

Possibly, I learned more viscerally that some stories, no matter how heartfelt and how hard you work, just end up as trash and aren’t worth saving.

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

Can anyone truly describe that so another person can understand it? I can say that nothing makes me feel as contented, feel as if I belong on the earth, like writing, the actual process of using the words and creating sentences, describing images, discussing ideas. For all the difficulties that being a creative person can bring, I feel lucky to have been born with this in my life, to have a purpose.

What has drawn you to writing fiction and/or what other genres do you write?

I have written quite a few short stories, pushing hard to go in many directions and experiment with what writing can do, as well as writing a good many poems, but above all, I think of myself as a novelist, because a novel is where you really have room to explore what it means to be a human being.

What have been the biggest influences in your writing?

As to other writers, I’ve been directly influenced (in the sense of wanting to imitate them) by Shakespeare, Kafka, Dostoyevsky, Isabel Allende, Mark Twain, and of course, by other writers who aren’t coming to mind at the moment. I would also say that art, music, and travel also influence my writing.

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

(1) Feeling contented with who you are, and with how you live and what you do. (2) Having a glass of wine, some chocolate, and a comfortable couch, with something you really love to read.

Thank you, David, 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!

Eve Addams is a Denver-based poet whose work mixes storytelling with elements of magical realism to explore love, language, religion, trauma, and time. She is a member of the 2025 Mercury Slam Poetry Team and a 2x Moth StorySlam winner. Her spoken word piece, “Airport Security,” appears in our autumn issue.

Tell us about yourself.

I grew up outside Chicago and in my adult life, have lived at over 15 addresses, visited over 30 countries, and worked over 40 jobs. The one consistent has been writing. It exists somewhere between something I have to do and something I want to do, but I am glad every time that I do it.

I was introduced to spoken word with Amanda Gorman’s 2021 inauguration poem, The Hill We Climb. But it wasn’t until 2023, a few days after October 7th, that I stumbled into slam poetry. I wrote out a poem where I processed my emotions as a Jewish person who had dated a Palestinian, and looked for open mics near me. The earliest one was that night at what was at the time The Mercury Cafe. I went knowing nothing, and when I got there discovered that it was not an open mic but a slam – and there were some rules. I was supposed to have 3 poems prepared that were under 3 minutes. Since I was already there, I split my poem into two and figured I wouldn’t make it to the final round. I was wrong. I ended up speed reading both parts as my ‘third poem, ‘dropping some lines to fit it in. It was both encouraging and humbling, and to this day is one of the things I like most about slam poetry: in its best form, anyone can walk in and you don’t know what will happen.  

What did you learn (about yourself, craft, or life in general) through the process of creating the piece?

Spoken word artists often draw on anger as an emotion to fuel their performances, but this is the first piece that I tried engaging with it more seriously. I realized that for my personal craft, to engage with anger means finding the hope and belief systems behind it. If I am to express anger in a piece, I want to leave the audience (and myself) a direction or avenue to land it with purpose.

What has drawn you to spoken word? 

I see spoken word as a dance with the audience. You have the opportunity to lead listeners on a journey through place, space, and emotion, and at the same time, follow the energy they give back to adjust delivery and pacing. It’s the most emotionally intimate interaction I’ve found as an artist, and I treasure that connection.

What have been the biggest influences in your creative life?

I was lucky to grow up in a family that encouraged creativity by living it. My mother is an artist and actress; my father is a photographer and videographer; my grandmother is a musician; my nana was a sculptor and painter. So many of my aunts, uncles, and cousins also play music, paint, or photograph, and both of my grandfathers danced. They have all influenced my creative life by encouraging every aspect of it and demonstrating that creativity lasts a lifetime. 

It continues to be humans who cultivate my creative curiosity. I love Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s writing for its beauty while engaging with darkness; I draw from Chanel Miller’s simultaneously certain and gentle observation in both writing and art; Johnny Osi’s spoken word performances have pushed what I thought to be possible in embodying emotion and engaging audiences, and his editing workshops show me the value and potential of writing communities and coaches; Matthew Brown’s poetic lyricism challenges me to expand the vocabulary with which I describe a given moment; and Ryan Boyland’s exploration of fairy tales and creation in performance poetry demonstrate how to create rich visual worlds without needing trauma to drive the whole story.

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

I used to be someone who only wrote on paper (and only when I wasn’t going to be interrupted). While that’s still when I feel most creatively free, I’ve found the best way to build in expression to daily life is to turn to my notes app on my phone in those moments when I’d typically be scrolling – and recording voice memos with lines that come to me when driving. 

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

Wanting to be exactly where you are. 

---

Thank you, Eve, for sharing such a powerful piece with us and for spending time on this Q&A. We appreciate you being a part of our growing community and wish you the best!

Brad Snyder’s writing has appeared in HuffPost Personal, River Teeth’s Beautiful Things, Sweet Lit, Under the Gum Tree, Hippocampus Magazine, and elsewhere. He holds an MFA in Creative Nonfiction Writing from Bay Path University. Brad lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his husband, daughter, son, and sometimes-warring cat and dogs. His short creative nonfiction essay, Rearview Mirror, is available in Issue #21.

Tell us about yourself.

I’m a dad, husband, father, nonprofit fundraiser, and writer, with the order of those identities sometimes scrambling from moment to moment. I’m still getting used to not also being a New Yorker, after having grown up on Long Island and lived most of my adult life in New York City until the pandemic, combined with some job hopping for my husband, led us first to Chicago and now to California.

On the upside, it is November as I write this underneath a startling amount of sunshine.

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the origin, revision process, and/or final version of your piece appearing in this issue?

This work began with a prompt from the writer Natalie Goldberg that was something along the lines of “I’m thinking about.” For reasons I’ll never be able to explain, the singular image of my husband and me locking eyes in a car’s rearview mirror as we drove to the airport with our newborn daughter came into my head. 

Another image of a rearview mirror, the one I glanced at during a drive from New York City to Michigan after having come out to my parents via letters, also soon popped into my head.

Now, I had two connected images. And then there was this thread with the song “Rearviewmirror” by Pearl Jam given that I had played that song at extreme volume on that coming-out road trip. 

So I just continued writing about the moments in my life involving a rearview mirror. Some lesser moments fell away. And soon I started writing about the song itself. At some point, I realized these two strands would eventually merge. And I just started writing toward that ending.

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

At some level, the process of writing this piece reminded me of how much music has been a constant companion through the seasons of my life. It’s pretty extraordinary to realize how music, or really any work of art, can be both a reflection of and a catalyst for new understanding and insight.

From a craft perspective, I was reminded again of the power that comes, paradoxically, from starting with a constraint (the writer Brenda Miller writes and teaches about this). I locked into a frame pretty early—the rearview mirror—and that actually allowed my mind to wander places it never would have otherwise.

What do you hope readers take from the piece?

I hope readers find some connection to the fear and hope that is palpable, often in the same scenes of the piece. That one task of life is to somehow hold both of these things simultaneously and not wish any of it away. Because that interplay winds up being the stuff of meaning.

Oh, and that Pearl Jam is an extraordinary band.

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

Something about the process feels imbued with a kind of meaning that sustains and nourishes me. There’s the process itself and all the quiet, determined reflection that, to me, feels so fundamentally human. And then there is the bonus of an actual, tangible result that might hopefully resonate for another human being. That feels kind of magical.

What has drawn you to writing creative nonfiction, and/or what other genres do you write?

I write creative nonfiction and some humor, exclusively. At one point in my life, I had been an aspiring and then novice journalist. I have always been drawn to the nuance and poignancy of true stories. The art of writing creative nonfiction taps into something essential for me—that quest of understanding how things were or are and what lessons can be drawn from the ordinary, extraordinary task of just living.

What have been the biggest influences in your writing?

Anything written by the late Brian Doyle. Years ago, I read his short essay “Leap” about one of the most horrific aspects of 9/11, and I was just floored by his use of language and the way he could capture humanity on the page. I’ve since read and reread so much of his nonfiction work, and he continues to be a writing mentor whom I’ve never met.

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

Most days, I begin my mornings (early, before the two children, two dogs, and sometimes the cat) awake to read and write. It’s a ritual I didn’t realize was a ritual until a friend pointed out that it sounded like a meditation—coffee brew, pour, open book, read, close book, open laptop, write. On the mornings I don’t do this, something feels missing, because it fills some kind of longing to be in companionship with myself and my thoughts. 

Balance? If someone can tell me the secret to that, I’m all ears.

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

If you don’t own Brian Doyle’s essay collection, “One Long River of Song: Notes on Wonder,” please buy it for yourself or someone you love. It’s pure beauty.

My all-time favorite essay is Ryan Van Meter’s “First.“

And, finally, my writing mentor, Mel Allen, the former longtime editor of Yankee Magazine, has an extraordinary collection of essays out now called “Here in New England.” You don’t need to be connected to New England to appreciate all the portraits of people from all walks of life that he chronicles in its pages. And, to me, it’s the best teaching text for how to effectively write movingly about others.

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

This may sound hokey (and I’m suddenly feeling very Californian as I write it), but I think it’s about being able to cultivate a habit of recognizing the beauty all around us. When I can approach a day with some gratitude for the gifts hiding in plain sight, I feel like I’m living some version of “the good life.”

Thank you, Brad, 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!

Marlene Olin was born in Brooklyn, raised in Miami, and educated at the University of Michigan.  Her short stories and essays have been published in journals such as The Massachusetts Review, Catapult, PANK, and World Literature Today. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of The Net, Best Small Fictions, and for inclusion in Best American Short Stories. Her flash essay, “The Percolator,” appears in our autumn issue.

Tell us about yourself.

I’m seventy-two years old and have been part of a writing group here in Miami for the last twenty years. I’ve always loved to write but being part of a group has disciplined me to write regularly. 

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the origin, revision process,  and/or final version of your piece appearing in this issue? 

The line often blurs between my fiction and nonfiction. “The Percolator” is broadly based on the life experiences of me and my friends. When I really want to spill my feelings, I dive into fiction. In fiction, you can hide everything.

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

I try to set aside time to write every day. The next day, before I write anything new, I go back and revise what I wrote the day before. It’s a life lesson, I suppose. To review your behavior, critique it, analyze room for improvement.  

What do you hope readers take from the piece?

I am trying to write more pieces that deal with getting old. Literary journals are youth-oriented. I feel it’s important to share my voice, my experiences.

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

I’ve long been a collector of handmade objects, crafts. I appreciate the time and effort put into one-of-a-kind things. I have a Haitian voodoo flag hanging on one wall, a painting of a Catholic saint hanging an another. I’m an admirer of the creative process. 

What has drawn you to writing creative nonfiction and/or what other genres do you write? 

I have two novels, several children’s books, and multiple collections of my short stories incubating inside my computer. I’m very good at producing literature but very bad at seeing it published. 

What have been the biggest influences in your writing? 

I constantly read. Books of fiction and nonfiction are always piled on my nightstand. 

I also have subscriptions to The New Yorker and The New York Times. Since I’m housebound a lot, these subscriptions expand my world. 

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

Finding time to write has been a challenge lately. But writing is very therapeutic. My stories get 100% of my attention. All of my problems fly out the window. Poof. Gone. 

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

I think a good life happens when you meet life’s challenges with dignity and grace. 

---

Thank you, Marlene, for trusting us with your poigniant and heartfelt essay and for spending extra time on this Q&A. We appreciate you being a part of our growing literary community and wish you the best with writing and all life’s endeavors!

Rodrigo Toscano is the author of twelve books of poetry. His latest books are The Cut Point (Counterpath, 2023), The Charm & The Dread (Fence, 2022). Forthcoming is WHITMAN. CANNONBALL. PUEBLA (Omnidawn, 2025), a National Poetry Series finalist. His other books include, In Range, Explosion Rocks Springfield, Deck of Deeds, Collapsible Poetics Theater, To Leveling Swerve, Platform, Partisans, and The Disparities. His poetry has appeared in over 20 anthologies, including, Best American Poetry (2023, 2004), and Best American Experimental Poetry (BAX) His Collapsible Poetics Theater was a National Poetry Series selection. Toscano lives in New Orleans. 

Our autumn issue features two sonnets by RT. “Routines” and “Novella 14” which are part of a new collection of 100 sonnets that deal with the epic tension between conceptions of Cosmos and Mundus.

Tell us about yourself.

I was born in a place and time not of my choosing; I am living under historical conditions in flux; I shall die in an era before another era. 

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the origin, revision process, and/or final version of the poems appearing in this issue?

All my sonnets – hundreds of them, are made up of 10 syllables lines (or units). No exceptions. No cheating on line breaks, like just hitting the return key. Meaning units are integral to each other. The flow flows from a constructivist impulse. 

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

Proportion, extension of proportion, violation of proportion, return to proportion. 

What do you hope readers take from the piece?

A piece of their life, like a 1’000^th puzzle piece—into to place. 

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

A desire to enjoin in the playfulness of the earth’s productive and destructive power. 

What has drawn you to writing poetry and/or what other genres do you write?

I like doing dialogues with other poets. Written volleys back and forth until we reach a limit.

What have been the biggest influences in your writing?

Marxist Dialectical thinking and expression. 

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

I engage in continuous theft, ganking from one for the other. 

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

Eudemonia. “Human flourishing”. Living a life that is deeply fulfilling, and true to your highest potential.

Thank you, RT, for your continued support of our growing literary community, and for spending extra time with us on this Q&A. We’re grateful for you and hope to read more of the sonnets in “Stumbles and Surges” soon. Cheers!