Sunday, November 11, 2018

The Broker of Nightmares Giveaway #1

We're happy to announce that over the weekend, we sold out of the limited, signed, illustrated, and numbered chapbook edition of THE BROKER OF NIGHTMARES by Jon Padgett (Charitable Chapbook #1)! But, don't fret, not only can you still pre-order the eBook edition of this lovely novelette, but due to the kindness of our friend Shaun Cobble, who purchased three copies for this very purpose, we are holding three different giveaways for these last remaining copies of the chapbook. Enter the first giveaway below. Thank you!

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Monday, November 5, 2018

Providence, New Orleans, and Chapbooks, Oh My!

Over the past two weeks a lot’s happened in Nightscape Press land. We took our Halloween vacation which was more like a Halloween work-ation. We packed up the car and headed up to Providence, Rhode Island and finalized THE BROKER OF NIGHTMARES by Jon Padgett. Then I headed over to Northampton and met up with Matthew M. Bartlett, who I had some wonderful dinner and conversation with. The next day, Jen and I dropped in on the Arcade Asylum Author Series Hallowe’en reading at the Lovecraft Arts and Sciences Council and saw Meg Smith, Doungjai Gam Bepko, and Daniel Braum read, which was a wonderful treat. We’re excited to announce that afterward, we signed a contract with Doungjai Gam Bepko for her brand new gritty noir tale “Watch the Whole Goddamned Thing Burn” which will be published as part of our Charitable Chapbook line likely early next year!

For those who don’t already know, each title from our Charitable Chapbook line comes out in a physical limited and illustrated chapbook edition that gives one third of its proceeds to the charity of its author’s choice (the other two thirds are split evenly between the author and Nightscape Press) and then six months later an eBook edition is released that gives 40% to the same chosen charity (another 40% goes to the author, and Nightscape Press keeps the remaining 20%). Gam chose Trans Lifeline as the charity her chapbook will contribute to!
Trans Lifeline is a national trans-led organization dedicated to improving the quality of trans lives by responding to the critical needs of the trans community with direct service, material support, advocacy, and education. Their vision is to fight the epidemic of trans suicide and improve overall life-outcomes of trans people by facilitating justice-oriented, collective community aid. We couldn’t be more super proud and excited to help Gam raise funds for such a wonderful cause!

After Providence, we took the long drive down to New Orleans to meet with Jon Padgett on Devil's Night where he signed all 100 copies of THE BROKER OF NIGHTMARES! It was great finally meeting Jon and chatting with him. Later that night, we sent the first donation off to Jon's chosen charity, the ACLU, for $500! (When we sell out of the rest of these, we'll be sending another $500 their way! There are currently 24 copies left as of this writing! Go get one!) Then, for our last night in NOLA, we had a wonderful Halloween at the Music Box Village which was a hell of an interesting experience.
Now that we’re home, I’m finishing up slush reading and editing for ASHES AND ENTROPY. The plan is to have all stories responded to and the final stories chosen in the next week and a half and then it’s headlong into formatting and production. So, if you’re still waiting on a response from me for that, know that you’ll receive it very soon. As for our recent novel submissions call, we’re planning to have all responses out by the end of the year.

Back on the chapbook front, we are currently working on Charitable Chapbook subscription options and should have that finalized soon. When that’s sorted, we’ll be offering our 2019 subscription package most likely on our webstore as well as via our new and improved Patreon page that we’ll be launching soon. This subscription package will include each chapbook we publish in 2019 as well as some really cool exclusive bonus stuff that I can’t talk about just yet. But soon! So soon! Anyway, that’s it for now. Be kind to one another and, U.S. folks, if you haven’t already, be sure and vote tomorrow!

Wednesday, September 12, 2018


The Nightscape Press Webstore is finally up! All of our current paperback books are available. Titles from authors like Stephen Graham Jones, Lisa Mannetti, Tim Waggoner, Amelia Mangan, Rick Hautala, Rena Mason, and more. 

However, all of our current eBooks will take longer as they are tied up with Kindle Unlimited exclusivity. But in late November that will end and they will go up in the eBook section of the store. Meanwhile, you can now pre-order the eBook editions of both ASHES AND ENTROPY and Jon Padgett's THE BROKER OF NIGHTMARES over there directly from us. 

Speaking of pre-order, ASHES AND ENTROPY is now available for Kindle pre-order on Amazon! If you don't already know the details of this book, it's an anthology of cosmic horror and noir/neo-noir edited by Robert S. Wilson. It will include new stories by Laird Barron, Damien Angelica Walters, John Langan, Kristi DeMeester, Jon Padgett, Nadia Bulkin, Jayaprakash Satyamurthy, Lucy A. Snyder, Tim Waggoner, Jessica McHugh, Paul Michael Anderson, Fiona Maeve Geist, Max Booth III, Lynne Jamneck, Greg Sisco, Lisa Mannetti, Nate Southard, Erinn L. Kemper, Matthew M. Bartlett, Autumn Christian, and more. The book is beautifully illustrated by Luke Spooner of Carrion House Illustration and the release date is set for December 11th of this year.

Meanwhile, our very first Charitable Chapbook, Jon Padgett's THE BROKER OF NIGHTMARES, is over halfway sold out with only 44 copies remaining, so, if you haven't already, now's the time to grab one up before they're gone. One third of all proceeds from the sale of this fantastic novelette will go to the ACLU. As soon as these sell out, we'll be sending a nice big payment of $1,000 their way and nothing could make us happier right now as publishers. 

We'll be unleashing more Charitable Chapbooks as time goes on, and our charity novel line of books is currently open for submissions as well, so we hope to have charitable novels for sale starting sometime in 2019. We're also currently open to submissions to writers from underrepresented demographics for two slots in ASHES AND ENTROPY. So, if that applies to you, be sure to get a story submitted before the end of September!

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Ashes and Entropy: A Trade Paperback Trifecta!

Here they are, all three covers for ASHES AND ENTROPY! Each cover image links to the corresponding pre-order link of the anthology for that edition. These covers were selected from our cover contest and were chosen based on a number of criteria including aesthetics, textual design, and how accurately they depicted the book they would be used for. Included with each of these are mock-up full spreads to give an idea of what the full book will look like. They do not however, include the final TOC as that is still yet to be updated due to our current open submissions call for writers from underrepresented demographics.

First we have our contest winner and retail cover created by Pat R. Steiner:

And now for Alternate Dimentions #1 and #2:

Our first runner up was C.V. Hunt with this stunning gem:

And Don Noble brings us our second runner up, a gritty and more psychedelic take on the anthology. 

More about this bleak and dazzling upcoming anthology:

Stand on the precipice and prepare to dive down through the event horizon into the bleak and mind-shattering void of both the cosmos and of humanity.

Nightscape Press is proud to present ASHES AND ENTROPY edited by Robert S. Wilson, an anthology of cosmic horror and noir/neo-noir. ASHES AND ENTROPY includes brand new stories by Laird Barron, Damien Angelica Walters, John Langan, Kristi DeMeester, Jon Padgett, Nadia Bulkin, Jayaprakash Satyamurthy, Lucy A. Snyder, Tim Waggoner, Jessica McHugh, Paul Michael Anderson, Max Booth III, Lynne Jamneck, Greg Sisco, Lisa Mannetti, Nate Southard, Erinn L. Kemper, Matthew M. Bartlett, Autumn Christian, and more. Each volume of this anthology is beautifully illustrated by Luke Spooner and available in black and white or color trade paperback editions. 

Thursday, September 6, 2018

Behold: The Main Cover for ASHES AND ENTROPY!

Today we unveil the main cover for ASHES AND ENTROPY that will be available via retailers. This was the winner of our cover art contest held last month. You can pre-order this edition here or by clicking on the cover artwork. Tomorrow we will unveil the Alternate Dimension #1 trade paperback edition including the first runner up cover chosen from our contest. Both Alternate Dimension options will be exclusively available on our website in color trade paperback only.

ASHES AND ENTROPY will release on December 11th, 2018 and will include stories from Laird Barron, Damien Angelica Walters, John Langan, Kristi DeMeester, Jon Padgett, Nadia Bulkin, Jayaprakash Satyamurthy, Lucy A. Snyder, Tim Waggoner, Jessica McHugh, Paul Michael Anderson, Max Booth III, Lynne Jamneck, Greg Sisco, Lisa Mannetti, Nate Southard, Erinn L. Kemper, Matthew M. Bartlett, Autumn Christian, and more. 

And speaking of "and more" the book is currently open for two slots to writers from underrepresented demographics such as women, LGBTQ persons, persons of color, disabled persons, and any other underrepresented group not mentioned here. You can find more about that on our submissions page!

Friday, August 3, 2018

Ashes and Entropy Story Spotlight: Ain't Much Pride by Nate Southard

Time for another ASHES AND ENTROPY Story Spotlight! Today's beacon of anti-hope shines on Nate Southard's "Ain't Much Pride." "Ain't Much Pride" is a nautical tale of a mob henchman and his boss and cohorts hiding out at sea from "the feds." But something unfathomable lurks beneath the water waiting for them and, like our anti-hero, it's hungry for more than just fish.

Nate Southard is the author of Bad Dogs, Porcelain, Will the Sun Ever Come Out Again?, Red Sky, Lights Out, and Just Like Hell.  When he isn’t writing scary stories, he’s probably cooking.  Usually Thai food or fried chicken.  He loves fried chicken.

Nate lives in Austin, Texas with his girlfriend, a dog, and two cats.  The cats are total assholes.

I've loved Nate's work ever since I first read his submission "Mouth" for Horror for Good back in 2011. He continues to write phenomenal raw and emotional pieces of brutal fiction and he was an obvious choice when I set out to make a list of authors to solicit for this collection. And unsurprisingly, he brought that same sense of brutal originality to ASHES AND ENTROPY with this story. So without further ado, here is the opening to "Ain't Much Pride":

Used to be, I loved fish. Tuna, swordfish, red snapper, striped bass—found me a chef who knew how to cook it, and I’d belly up. I’m not talking about deep frying catfish or beer-battered cod, either. Any goon can do that. Cooking a real piece of fish; that takes skill. Try to say I’m wrong, you get cuffed behind the ear. Hard.
Now? Man, I hate fish. The look, the smell, the taste. Jesus Christ. Makes me sick just to think about it. Seven months hiding out in international waters will do that to you, though. Don’t matter if you’re on a luxury yacht or not. No steak or pork or chicken on this floating tomb. Just fish. We eat what we got; we get more. It’s like the circle of life, except with a skeleton crew, couple of girls, a looming drug trafficking charge, and so much sea food it’ll grow you gills.
Boss Wilburn sits in one of the yacht’s bigger rooms—I know crap about boats, but my guess is it’s a ballroom…maybe a dining room—in one of his better suits. Months without a dry cleaner have left it smudged with salt air, but he still suits up every Thursday. Says it’s important to keep things formal. He insists on formality while doing lines off Betty Numero Uno, whose name is Cynthia.
I stand in the corner, hands folded in front of my crotch like I need to piss. The 9mm is hard against my ribs, but I’m used to it.
Gregory reads him one of the latest encrypted emails. Wilburn receives one a week, no more, and he’s powerful enough to afford keeping a lawyer like Gregory on board to explain all of them. Back when boredom hadn’t chained him to a gold straw, he’d insisted this would keep us all safe and secure. I want a steak so bad I’ve been considering a Facebook account so I can display our location, maybe tag the Feds. Pretty sure they don’t serve fish in prison.
“Okay, yeah, sure,” Wilburn says. “Skip the pretty words and tell me what it means.”
“It means the Feds aren’t tossing the investigation,” Gregory says. “Another month, maybe, but for right now we’re staying put.”
“Fine with me. Ain’t it fine with you, Cindy?”
Cynthia giggles, her stomach spasming, and Wilburn holds up both hands. “Hold still, dammit! I got two lines left.”
“Sorry, Baby.” Her red hair lies in a perfect fan on the mahogany tabletop.
“It’s good, Sugar. We all so good.”
The lines disappear, and I dream of fried chicken.

Thursday, August 2, 2018

Ashes and Entropy Story Spotlight: The Kind Detective by Lucy A. Snyder

Week two of our ASHES AND ENTROPY Story Spotlight series kicks off with a truly weird/cosmic horror tale from the amazing Lucy A. Snyder. This is definitely another story that hovers within the inner circle of my original vision for this anthology. A truly weird cosmic horror noir with a brilliant aesthetic and an ending that will almost certainly take you by complete surprise. Lucy's latest collection Garden of Eldritch Delights is available in trade paperback for pre-order now on Amazon. I would advise you go shell out some cash for this one!

Lucy A. Snyder is a five-time Bram Stoker Award-winning author. She wrote the novels Spellbent, Shotgun Sorceress, and Switchblade Goddess, the nonfiction book Shooting Yourself in the Head for Fun and Profit: A Writer’s Survival Guide, and the collections While the Black Stars Burn, Soft Apocalypses, Orchid Carousals, Sparks and Shadows, Chimeric Machines, and Installing Linux on a Dead Badger. Her writing has been translated into French, Russian, Italian, Czech, and Japanese editions and has appeared in publications such as Apex Magazine, Nightmare Magazine, Pseudopod, Strange Horizons, Weird Tales, Scary Out There, Seize the Night, and Best Horror of the Year. She lives in Columbus, Ohio and is faculty in Seton Hill University’s MFA program in Writing Popular Fiction. You can learn more about her at and you can follow her on Twitter at @LucyASnyder.

The Kind Detective is a gritty Lovecraftian tale with a protagonist who is unstoppably kind at his very core, but the case he finds himself smack in the middle of just might pull him up from his roots. Here is the opening scene:

One Sunday at exactly 4pm, Detective Craig McGill was nursing an Irish coffee and poring over the cold-case murder photos spread across his cigarette-pocked kitchen table. His eyes ached. There had to be some small but crucial details he missed the first twenty times he studied these black-and-white snapshots of death and misery. He was certain, sure as a priest about the truth of a loving God, that if he just looked at things the right way, he’d solve these grisly puzzles. Justice would be served. And if a horror could be met with no meaningful justice, at least grieving families could finally gain some closure.
            A loud bang! made him reflexively dive to the worn yellow linoleum floor. His ears popped as if he were on a jet that had taken a sudden 20,000-foot plunge. Vertigo surged bile into his throat as he rolled sideways to draw the .38 revolver he kept in a holster bolted beneath the table.
            He crouched in the shadow of the table, waiting for another bang! None came. It hadn’t been gunfire. Too loud, too low. But it had come from the street in front of his house. Maybe closer. A bomb? His mind flashed on the pressure cooker IEDs the narc squad had recovered from a backwoods meth lab. Who would have tossed a bomb into his yard?  The local Klan, angry that he’d sent one of their boys to Angola for murder? Gangbangers? A random lunatic?
            After a ten count, he crouch-ran to the living room window and peeked through mini-blinds. The only thing that registered at first was that something was terribly wrong with his yard. But for a couple of seconds his brain rejected the missives from his eyes because what he beheld was an impossibility.
            The massive pecan tree that shaded the front yard of the shotgun bungalow since his grandfather built it in 1930 was gone. Not exploded, not burned down – gone. It had a canopy as wide as the house and a trunk he couldn’t get his arms around and there wasn’t a stick or leaf left of it. Not even the main roots remained. A wide, perfectly hemispherical scoop of dirt and concrete sidewalk was gone, too. McGill was relieved that the water and gas mains hadn’t been broken.
            Nobody was visible on his street except for his catty-corner neighbor, Mrs. Fontenot. He gave her all his pecans every fall, and the pies she made from them were one of the purest joys in his life. Before he tasted one, he’d scoffed at people who declared that this or that food was a religious experience. Mrs. Fontenot made him a believer. His first bite made him declare that she should be a pastry chef, and she laughed and replied that it would be the ruination of a fine hobby.
            Mrs. Fontenot was dressed in her gardening hat and matching lavender gloves and rubber boots and sat beside a scooped crater in her front yard. Her magnolia was gone. She was hunched over, listing to the side in the way that people do when they are in profound shock.
            McGill shoved his pistol in the back waistband of his cargo pants and hurried out to see if she needed help. The heavy smells of tree root sap and fresh overturned soil were thick in the humid air. He glanced down at his missing tree’s crater as he hurried past it. The remaining roots were cleanly severed at the margin of the hemisphere. What kind of machine could have done such a thing? And why?
            “Miz Fontenot, are you okay?” he called as he scanned the street for strange vehicles. His snap judgement that this was the work of criminals he’d crossed seemed ridiculous now. Someone who could take a pair of big old trees like this could have taken his whole house with him inside it. But someone did do this strange, powerful thing, so maybe the perpetrator was watching? The hand of God hadn’t just scooped out their trees. The universe didn’t work that way. Did it?
            Mrs. Fontenot made no reply to his call, did not move, so he ran over and knelt beside her.
            “Miz Fontenot?” He gently touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
            She slowly turned to face him. Her dark face was wet with tears, and her brown eyes stared wide. He’d once seen that same expression on a small boy who’d watched his father cut up his mother with a hatchet.
            “Oh … Detective. So fine of you to visit.” Her voice was as flat as a salt marsh.
            “Did you see what happened?”
            “I saw … I saw ….”
            She started to weep. Deep, wracking, soul-wrenching sobs. People her age who got this upset sometimes had heart attacks or strokes. McGill wondered if he should call for a squad, but he wasn’t sure if she had health insurance. If she didn’t, the ambulance and ER bills might break her. She didn’t seem to be in immediate danger. Maybe she just needed a chance to rest and gather herself.
            “Can you stand up? Let’s get you inside. I’ll make you some tea.”
            He gently helped her up and escorted her back into her house. She stopped crying, but her whole body shook as if she were walking through snow. Shock, definitely. He got her settled in her easy chair, pulled off her boots, and tucked a crocheted afghan over her legs so she’d stay warm.
            “Thank you, Detective. You’re a kind man. Don’t let nothing tell you otherwise.”
            McGill smiled at her and went into her kitchen to put the kettle on.
            When he returned with a steaming mug of chamomile tea, Mrs. Fontenot was dead.
            The purely practical part of McGill’s mind told him that a squad wouldn’t have arrived in time to save her. They just wouldn’t bust the speed limit for a black lady with vague symptoms, not even if a white off-duty cop was calling on her behalf. And that renewed realization – the system he served was horribly flawed – made the mess of sadness, anger and guilt stewing in his skull almost boil over.
            He hadn’t shed a single tear at any of the terrible murder scenes he’d investigated. Nobody wanted an emotional cop. It was not professional, it was not manly, and he would not weep now for this sweet old lady slumped in her favorite chair, even if nobody could possibly see him.
            He would not cry. He would do his job: find out who did this to her. This wasn’t technically murder, but he was sure to his core that whoever took her tree, took her life just the same. He would work this like any other case, and he would solve it, and there would be justice.