Your Impossible Voice

23/01/2025

“Janet Hall has much to recommend it. Courington’s language and sense of place in this Southern town are brilliant, but as someone who has lived this lifestyle for my entire adult life, her characterization is where she shines.”

John Brantingham reviews Janet Hall by Chella Courington

Review by John Brantingham —"Janet Hall has much to recommend it. Courington’s language and sense of place in this Southern town are brilliant, but as someone who has lived this lifestyle for my entire adult life, her characterization is where she shines."

16/01/2025

"Smith’s unapologetic devotion to their own Blackness, queerness, and magic infuses every comma and metaphor with the surety and warmth of their voice."

Jamilla VanDyke-Bailey reviews Bluff by Danez Smith

Review by Jamilla VanDyke-Bailey — "In Bluff, Danez Smith (they/them) uses the full breadth of the poetic form to bring all of their complexities to a house of mirrors for an overdue conversation."

15/01/2025

After 12 straight years of publishing brash and velvety literature from around the globe, our prose editor, Stephen Beachy, is finally taking a vacation!

While Stephen enjoys some well-deserved time off, we are pleased to welcome Alvin Lu as guest prose editor for our spring 2025 issue. Alvin is a long-time friend of YIV, whose new novel Daydreamers is out in July from Fiction Collective 2.

So, what is Alvin looking for? Anything. Including genre fiction, works-in-progress, and works in translation. But it should be kind of (or really) weird. Works that play with structure and language are most welcome. Send us your best/weirdest!

Your Impossible Voice publishes brash and velvety new work from around the globe, including fiction, poetry, nonfiction, translations, literary reviews, essays, excerpts, art, and interviews.What We Are Looking For We are most interested in voice-driven, off-center, and innovative work. Please read...

14/01/2025

“In this story, we don’t die by fire. We don’t wake in the middle of the night to the screeching of the warning sirens on the phones under our pillows.”

"Who By Fire" by Laila Amado is out now!

By Laila Amado — "In this story, we don’t die by fire. We don’t wake in the middle of the night to the screeching of the warning sirens on the phones under our pillows."

07/01/2025

And we're back! Our first flash of 2025 is "Cool Moon" courtesy of Katie Coleman — a sure sign it's going to be a good year for stellar writing.

"I thought of stopping the car, taking a ladder to chip off a fat chunk of cool moon. You’d pass me a chisel and I’d break off a specimen. We’d suspend it above the dining room table. Visitors would say that’s neat, admiring the way you’d aim an angle-poise lamp to accentuate its lunar glow."

By Katie Coleman — "I thought of stopping the car, taking a ladder to chip off a fat chunk of cool moon. You’d pass me a chisel and I’d break off a specimen."

19/12/2024

"Now, s*x is boring. No, s*x is something more complicated; it’s neutral. It‘s not stimulating, disgusting, or even a euphoric rush. It’s just something people do. It just exists."

Who is ready for "Risky S*x" by Taro Williams?

By Taro Williams — Now, s*x is boring. No, s*x is something more complicated; it’s neutral. It’s not stimulating, disgusting, or even a euphoric rush. It’s just something people do. It just exists.

18/12/2024

"The day after Heinrich Scheimann discovered the ancient city of Troy, all the she-goats came down from the mountain and stated quite matter-of-factly that they refused to ever be inseminated again."

Our final poetry highlight from issue 31 comes courtesy of "from: The Oyster" by Ann Pedone.

By Ann Pedone — The day after Heinrich Scheimann discovered the ancient city of Troy, all the she-goats came down from the mountain and stated quite matter-of-factly that they refused to ever be inseminated again.

17/12/2024

“Well, we’re off to a fine start,” my father said after an hour’s drive.

My mother looked down at Suzie, didn’t answer.

I didn’t either. If I took his remark at face value, that we were making good time, and said that was good, it could be a trick. “Good?” he’d ask. “Good your sister is sick? You just say whatever stupid thing comes into your head, don’t you?”

Visit Omaha by Jane Snyder in our latest issue!

By Jane Snyder — I didn’t know when I would make my father mad. I’d tell him I liked a song on the radio or repeat a joke from school, and he’d go off. I never saw it coming.

16/12/2024

"You want “bedroom” eyes and hair without engaging in bedroom activities. Apply eye primer, smoky shadow, and winged eyeliner. Fake smile for mirror. Smush face against pillow or giant stuffed dog. Smush until you smudge. Weep. Look into mirror. Know you are beautiful."

Make yourself new! Start your week with The Weight of Drowned Calla Lilies by Katherine Elizabeth Seltzer.

13/12/2024

"It’s an old story: everything was coming new. Layers on layers of new. New neighborhoods gridding out like dead stars. At new airports tequila was green, snacks vacuum-packed. The clouds pearl-piled. Stores were new; registers silent, smooth as eggs. But not everything could be new."

Rubric is just one of three amazing new poems from Linda Wojtowick in our latest issue!

By Linda Wojtowick — It’s an old story: everything was coming new. Layers on layers of new. New neighborhoods gridding out like dead stars. At new airports tequila was green, snacks vacuum-packed.

12/12/2024

Congratulations to Our Best Small Fictions Nominees!

11/12/2024

"It’s like when someone fills a basket. It looks
good. It looks like the right thing. But that’s
how it happens. You won’t know the road.
Sometimes the largest fillers are the emptiest men."

Basket Filler by Linda Wojtowick appears in Your Impossible Voice 31!

By Linda Wojtowick — It’s like when someone fills a basket. It looks / good. It looks like the right thing. But that’s / how it happens. You won’t know the road. / Sometimes the largest fillers are the emptiest men.

10/12/2024

"Nearly a million people died in the Iran-Iraq war, my dad one of them. The Iraqis fired tank shells at him, and, in a split second, he vanished from the earth. Of him remained only a nameplate, a bag of memories, and a seed in my mom’s belly."

A Short Bob by Mehdi M. Kashani appears in issue 31!

By Mehdi M. Kashani — Fresh snow carpets the road and glitters under the faint streetlights. Neighbors snuggle up in their homes, leaving the quiet roads a haven for strays.

09/12/2024

"She says: It’s not like before. I know who I am. I don’t have doubts. Even asleep, I know who I am. But I hear things. Close or way off. A train rushes by and I wonder: Is it in my head? Is it real? "

Start your week off with a visit to "EVPs Captured in the Old Fort" by Addison Zeller

By Addison Zeller — She says: Some skies just hang up there like cracked ice.

06/12/2024

"A man climbing up a steep mountain wielding a Claymore with a wild boar as a guard dog would not be considered strange during an apocalypse."

Damn that's a good poem. Close out the week with "Damn!" by Steve Castro.

By Steve Castro — A man climbing up a steep mountain wielding a Claymore with a wild boar as a guard dog would not be considered strange during an apocalypse.

05/12/2024

We are thrilled to nominate the following outstanding writers for this year's Best Microfiction anthology!

05/12/2024

A sofa floating in the fog. Inside, declining, I sink in sweet softness. 6 a.m. Everything’s fine. A head chopped off by a machete. Pre-recorded. Unfortunate. Reeking trousers on the dirty black flesh, green flies on red blood. A cloudless sun, all-over tan for those parts of the epidermis out in the open. This sofa, which endlessly sinks and grows hollow …

The Sofa by Jean-Luc Raharimanana and translated by Tom Tulloh appears in our latest issue!

By Jean-Luc Raharimanana, translated by Tom Tulloh — A sofa floating in the fog. Inside, declining, I sink in sweet softness. 6 a.m. Everything’s fine. A head chopped off by a machete. Pre-recorded. Unfortunate. Reeking trousers on the dirty black flesh, green flies on red blood.

04/12/2024

"burnout was discussed

if it’s toxic then imbibe
what the soil wears to bed
on a typical workday night

here be my one
on ones"

A mid-week gift — "some gifted" by Gerónimo Sarmiento Cruz appears in our latest issue!

By Gerónimo Sarmiento Cruz — the month of april / in excess of march / obstinate as a foreign language / seemingly garrulous but suave