The Bulletin #215 Issue Cover and Table of Contents

The next issue of The Bulletin will be available for SFWA members the end of October! The issue will be available as a PDF; eBook formats (EPUB, MOBI) of the issue will be made available in the near future. Members will be notified by email when the issue is available for download. Issue #215 is the first guest edited issue of The Bulletin, edited by L.D. Lewis (FIYAH Art Director and FIYAHCON Director). The Bulletin Issue #215 cover, “The Merman” by Paul Kellam. The Bulletin #215 Table of Contents Cover: “Merman” by Paul Kellam Contents:“From the President” by Mary Robinette Kowal“From the Guest Editor” by L.D. Lewis“Fine Weather, Isn’t It?” by Tochi Onyebuchi“Supernatural or Super Unnatural—an Examination of Postcolonial Horror” by Shiv Ramdas“‘Cities that Think Like Planets’: On Writing Sustainable Cities in Science Fiction” by Arkady Martine“Publishing Has A New York Problem” by Karintha Parker“Diversity Plus: Diverse Story Forms and Themes, Not Just Diverse Faces” by Henry Lien“Navigating the Parallel but Uneven Ecosystems of Traditional Publishing and Self-Publishing” by Evan Winter“Reminders for SFWA members” The post The Bulletin #215 Issue Cover and Table of Contents appeared first on SFWA.
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Sci-Fi Short Film: "Clearwater" | DUST

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The Little Witch

Every Halloween, an elderly woman hands out candy to a young trick-or-treater who’s dressed as a witch each time, looking exactly the same age. With each passing year, the woman grows more attached to the little witch and her odd nature. But she is no ordinary child, and an uncanny relationship develops between the two of them that may prove dangerous and deadly.     The first time I saw her, I remarked on her footwear. “Oh, you’re a red-boot witch,” I said, and shared a brief conspiratorial laugh with a woman I assumed was the mother. The little witch did not join in, however. She looked up at me with a solemn gaze, gray eyes serious beneath the wide brim of her black hat, and I felt chagrined. Hadn’t I vowed, when I was young, to never be one of the adults behaving just as I was then, laughing at a child under the guise of charm? Because of guilt I told her she could have two candies, and watched her little hand, fingers small as sticks, fingernails like glass, searching through the bowl until she found two of the exact same tiny chocolate bars, and then another. “Did you...
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Sci-Fi Short Film: "Connective Tissue" | DUST

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Sci-Fi Short Film: "Seedling" | DUST Exclusive

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City of Red Midnight: A Hikayat

In this spell-binding tale, a Pakistani storyteller captivates a group of wide-eyed tourists with a nesting doll of interlocked stories about a trickster and a hidden city ruled by the Queen of Red Midnight.     1: FROM THE LIPS OF BABA KAHANI   Hatim took them to the chai-khana on Main Boulevard partly because they were jet-lagged and wanted to kill time, mostly because it had been years since he had visited and he wanted to see Alif Laila, the Book Bus, again. No such luck. The tiny park near Main Market where the double-decker used to stand was empty. Hatim was inclined to discount the donkey standing in knee-high grass gazing at the dusk. They tell you many things, but they don’t tell you absence makes the heart grow older. Ghostly. As if one of your what-might-have-been lives just evaporated. They bought badly needed travel accessories and retired to Tandoori Teahouse, a makeshift establishment in the parking lot of a building. Beneath a white canopy two chefs in shalwar kameez cooked chai in boiling clay pots and poured it into tin cups—the first sip a crackling, rich, earthy shock that jolted them awake. “Ho-ly shit, Hatim,” Maurice said. “Imma...
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Call for Submissions: Sci-Fi StoryBundle

The SFWA Self Publishing Committee is happy to announce that we are open for submissions for the next SFWA Science Fiction StoryBundle, which will run from February 10 to March 4. The theme for the bundle will be Expansive Futures. For those who are unfamiliar with the concept, StoryBundles are curated collections of books offered at a discounted price. Proceeds go to the participating authors and StoryBundle, as well as a small cut for SFWA. We welcome writers who are not SFWA members (along with those who are, of course) to contribute their books for consideration in the bundle. The submitted books should be novel-length (>40,000 words), and trad-pub books are also welcome if the publisher agrees in writing. To submit, email This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. with “Expansive Futures StoryBundle” in the subject line and attach both MOBI and EPUB versions of your book. Submissions will be accepted through midnight, US Eastern Time, October 30, 2020. Participants will be notified by November 15, so that any books enrolled in Amazon KDP Select (Kindle Unlimited) will have time to be brought out of exclusivity before the bundle is released. You must have the rights to enter the StoryBundle, and it must not be in Amazon’s...
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Sci-Fi Short Film: "SYNTHIA" | DUST

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The Mystical Art of Codeswitching

In honor of Black Speculative Fiction Month, eight SFF authors share stories that honor forebearers and memories of the past, fight the legacies that underpin the brutalities of the present, and demand a future that’s freer than today. The stories publish on Tor.com all throughout the morning of October 19. They are collected here.     Omar lounged on his sectional, his face and body lit only by the blue glow of his phone’s screen, and pressed the Home icon in the app. He scrolled up to read the latest messages on his feed. Hunger gnawed at him, but he couldn’t drum up the energy to walk to the kitchen, let alone find and cook something to eat. For now, he pressed the Home icon again. No new notifications. He shifted to the What’s Trending tab and absorbed the chaos. @CNN: BREAKING: Protests nationwide continue after 15-year-old Aaron Davis was killed in an officer-involved shooting on Detroit’s west side. Reply to @CNN: Jazmine Jefferson-Hughes was killed two days before and there’s nothing but crickets. The misogynoir at these legacy media orgs is enough to make me want to [redacted]. Omar scrolled down his feed to another thread. @BLM_IN: We’re organizing another...
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teatime

In honor of Black Speculative Fiction Month, eight SFF authors share stories that honor forebearers and memories of the past, fight the legacies that underpin the brutalities of the present, and demand a future that’s freer than today. The stories publish on Tor.com all throughout the morning of October 19. They are collected here.     “A boy followed me home today. Crawled on his hands and knees. He was bloody and torn by the time I got the key in the lock. Poor thing.” She says all this in one breath as I drop one cube of sugar in her tea. My hands are shaking by the time I pour my own cup. “What did you do with him?” “Well, cleaned him up, of course. Set him down at the kitchen table and bandaged his wounds. Funniest thing, though, once I finished, he went back to all fours on my nice floors. I struck him once, but he refused to move so I left him there.” I gulp at my tea. Too strong. I let it seep too long. Surely, she’ll say something. I’m tempted to do away with the whole thing, but as usual, I swallow the moment down...
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We Come as Gods

In honor of Black Speculative Fiction Month, eight SFF authors share stories that honor forebearers and memories of the past, fight the legacies that underpin the brutalities of the present, and demand a future that’s freer than today. The stories publish on Tor.com all throughout the morning of October 19. They are collected here.     First, we come as servants. Who we were before this is not important: not the wars we may have fought in or ran from; not the academies we may have attended or not; not if we were once master or slave. All that matters, in the beginning, is that we are a people’s people, that we may stand in the midst of a crowd and be indistinguishable. On our heads lie the same hair as theirs, and on our feet the same sandals. We are simply one and the same, isn’t it obvious? Next, we come as heroes. Shining armour, arms unafraid to swing, tools of mass destruction that fit in the palm of our hands. We invoke the gods of our people, and they descend and stand beside us. The people see their hands outstretched upon our shoulders, their eyes shut in blessing. Godly...
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Here Sits His Ignominy

In honor of Black Speculative Fiction Month, eight SFF authors share stories that honor forebearers and memories of the past, fight the legacies that underpin the brutalities of the present, and demand a future that’s freer than today. The stories publish on Tor.com all throughout the morning of October 19. They are collected here.     To the king across the Blue Sea, in his Hall of Stone.   Your Insufferable Majesty, I know this letter did not find you well—it being in the excavated abdomen of your emissary. You should know that disembowelment is a savage punishment Great Nubia abandoned 600 years ago, but one we thought to revisit to best illustrate our point. Your governor-generals are dead. The insolent lot lie now in their various estates and keeps with bellies yawning open and brimming with ungodly humor—a state not dissimilar to that of the emissary sprawled on the impeccable floor of your throne room. I imagine you find this knowledge worrisome. Are you incensed, your majesty? Do you tremble with rage? Do you feel the urge to unleash your righteous army upon us “godless heathens”? Good. Very good. But first, a lesson in what these heathens can do. Look...
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The Friendship Bench

In honor of Black Speculative Fiction Month, eight SFF authors share stories that honor forebearers and memories of the past, fight the legacies that underpin the brutalities of the present, and demand a future that’s freer than today. The stories publish on Tor.com all throughout the morning of October 19. They are collected here.     The young woman is driven to my Healing Hut by a question. She doesn’t need to ask it. Everyone who seeks out my services comes here as a last resort. As soon as she closes the door, the floor beneath her sneakers morphs into a meadow. She inhales sharply, realizing that she now stands in grassland awash in the afternoon’s yellow glow. She turns back frightened, looking for the door she entered through but finds nothing. I wave at her from the bench under the shade of a jacaranda tree. The purple jacaranda petals occasionally fall onto my greying afro. The Friendship Bench looks like any other classic park bench yet the girl hesitates to join me. I wave and smile. It does the trick to remind her that I look like I could be anyone’s grandmother. Good. She’ll bring me closer to my quota....
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The Front Line

In honor of Black Speculative Fiction Month, eight SFF authors share stories that honor forebearers and memories of the past, fight the legacies that underpin the brutalities of the present, and demand a future that’s freer than today. The stories publish on Tor.com all throughout the morning of October 19. They are collected here.     My ass sticks to the thick, hot plastic seat of a waiting room chair that is unable to accommodate the spread of my hips. The AC groans with effort. It’s 68 degrees in here, but my body runs hot. I squirm in discomfort, inadvertently pushing my shorts up my crotch. My thighs pop out like sausages heated to bursting. Thick with sweat, their dimpled roundness lays bare for the judgmental stares of those seated around me. Leaning to my side, I lift a butt check and ungracefully dig the shorts out of my crack. It takes longer than it should. I glance around nervously, but no one’s looking. I’m just another big girl whose body has become armor.   ***   “You weren’t wearing panties,” the officer replies impassively. I don’t sleep in underwear, so I don’t answer, but the unspoken accusation hangs in the...
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Conjurer’s Rites

In honor of Black Speculative Fiction Month, eight SFF authors share stories that honor forebearers and memories of the past, fight the legacies that underpin the brutalities of the present, and demand a future that’s freer than today. The stories publish on Tor.com all throughout the morning of October 19. They are collected here.     I should know how to spell a Graves family gathering by now. “Once . . . th-there was . . .” I pause, chewing my heartbeat. Fashionable relatives, peppered throughout the Hilton’s stately ballroom, stare on. Unimpressed. Skeptical. “Once,” I repeat, louder, “there was a housekeeper who—” “I’on see nothing!” someone shouts. “Hush.” “But he’s right, though.” Uncles murmur into bulbous snifters; cousins snicker behind their phones. Dry-mouthed, I squint into the searing spotlight overhead, grimacing around microphone feedback. “Once, there was a housekeeper with legendary hands.” Sticking mine out, I curl brown fingers into the staid, hotel air; gaze across attendees at the thirty-third Graves Family Reunion; and conjure a memory spell unique to our bloodline. “This housekeeper,” I continue, fingers tingling, “was our very own Betty Graves, Great-great-Granny to most of us. As you can see…” Yet, fear-stricken, I realize nothing’s happening. The...
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Sela, Thief

In honor of Black Speculative Fiction Month, eight SFF authors share stories that honor forebearers and memories of the past, fight the legacies that underpin the brutalities of the present, and demand a future that’s freer than today. The stories publish on Tor.com all throughout the morning of October 19. They are collected here.     Sela held her power tight, cranked up her headset, and sauntered into the corner market. She needed fixins for a relaxing night in her new apartment. She’d skip unpacking tonight, just curl up with a bottle of wine instead. Some cheese. Salami. Maybe some fancy damn crackers. Anything to erase her day on campus. The student who moaned “That Black Bitch failed him,” though his work was always late. The security guard who tried ejecting her from her own office as she ate lunch at her own desk. The greybeard provost who poo-pooed such minor complaints while students staged walkouts and die-ins. Maybe she’d get lucky. Maybe the little shop would have pita chips. Burrata. Prosciutto. She brushed past the cashier, a portly man placing crackers and cookies above the counter. Black hair and skin dark enough to be a foreigner, light enough to be...
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Sci-Fi Short Film: "Beam" | DUST

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SFWA Market Report For October

Welcome to the October edition of the SFWA Market Report. Please note: Inclusion of any market in the report below does not indicate an official endorsement by SFWA. New Markets Constellation Magazine (Constelación)Departure MirrorThe Reinvented Heart Currently Open Analog Science Fiction & FactApex MagazineAsimov’s Science FictionBaffling MagazineBeneath Ceaseless SkiesCampfire MacabreClarkesworld MagazineCloud Lake LiteraryDaily Science FictionDark Matter Magazine(Recently Opened)Deep Magic(Recently Opened)DerelictEscape PodFantasy & Science Fiction (F&SF)FIYAHFlame Tree Fiction NewsletterFlash Fiction OnlineJim Baen Memorial Short Story Award(Recently Opened)khoréo magazine (khoreo)(Recently Opened)Kit Sora Flash Fiction / Flash Photography ContestLittle Blue MarbleNature: FuturesReckoningRetconSamovarStrange HorizonsTerraformThe Modern Deity’s Guide to Surviving HumanityWhen Worlds Collide Recently Closed Cossmass InfinitiesFantasy MagazineFuture Science Fiction DigestNightmare MagazineOmbak MagazineTerrifying Ghosts(Permanent)The Kid’s Ark(Permanent)The Wild Hunt Anthology(Permanent)UncannyUpon a Once Time(Permanent) Upcoming Market Changes Cast of Wonders‘s Submission Window begins soon.Constellation Magazine (Constelación)‘s Submission Window begins and ends soon.Cossmass Infinities‘s Limited Demographic Submission Window: Black, Asian, Latin, LGBTQ+ and other under-represented authors begins and ends soon.Dark Matter Magazine temporarily closes soon.Fantasy Magazine‘s Submission Window begins and ends soon.PseudoPod‘s Submission Window begins and ends soon.The Reinvented Heart‘s Submission Window ends soon. ••• The SFWA Market Report is compiled by David Steffen, editor of Diabolical Plots and administrator and co-founder of the Submission Grinder, and editor of The Long List Anthology series. ...
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Placed into Abyss (Mise en Abyse)

Chris would rather be anywhere but here, cleaning out his deceased, hateful grandparents’ house with his relatives. Each room he visits takes him back in time to another traumatic memory. To escape this house and his grandparents and his past, he’ll need to take time travel into his own hands. Content warning for fictional depictions of verbal, physical, and sexual child abuse.     There was supposed to be a cameo somewhere in Birdie’s bedroom, but no one could find it. They’d gone through all the jewelry and keepsakes. All they’d found was her sapphire ring, loose in a cookie tin, along with a bundle of sepia photographs showing people crowded around the hotel that Birdie’s family had owned when she was a child during the Great Depression. Lily and Harold argued over the identities of the people in the pictures, but came to no consensus. The cameo was a Civil War heirloom. Birdie had made a point of mentioning it whenever she talked to her children and grandchildren about their eventual inheritance. Marian frowned at the empty closet. Could it have accidentally gotten packed with Dad’s suits in the bags for Goodwill? Her twin, Lily, whipped toward her with an...
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Sci-Fi Short Film: "A Night at Club Zenos" | DUST

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