K Bird Lincoln's unique urban fantasy series began in 2017 with DREAM EATER, a story about a college student in Portland who discovers she is a "baku," the legendary "dream eater" from Japanese folklore. We continued Koi's adventures in 2018 with BLACK PEARL DREAMING, where Koi and her new supernatural friends travel to Japan to meet with a council of beings who have their own plans for Koi and her powers. Now, we're thrilled to bring you the final installment of the Portland Hafu series: LAST DREAM OF HER MORTAL SOUL by K. Bird Lincoln will be available in ebook and paperback on Tuesday, March 19, 2019.

​K. Bird Lincoln is an ESL professional and writer living on the windswept Minnesota Prairie sustained by family and frou-frou coffee. Also dark chocolate-- without which, the world is a howling void. Originally from Cleveland, she has spent a couple decades living on the fringes of the Pacific Ocean. Her speculative short stories are published in various online & paper publications such as Strange Horizons. Her medieval Japanese fantasy series, Tiger Lily, is available from Amazon. Her multi-cultural fantasy set in Portland, Oregon begins with the book Dream Eater. She also writes tasty speculative fiction reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. Check her out on Facebook, join her newsletter for chocolate and free stories, or stalk her online at kblincoln.wordpress.com

GLASS & GARDENS: SOLARPUNK WINTERS
Anthologist: Sarena Ulibarri
Open for Submissions: January 1 - March 1, 2019
Expected Publication: January 2020
Story Length: up to 8,000 words
Payment: $0.01 per word + contributor copy
 
Solarpunk is a type of eco-conscious science fiction that imagines an optimistic future founded on renewable energies. Often aiming for a balance of nature and technology, and always inclusive and diverse, solarpunk stories show the ways we have adapted to climate change, or the ways we overcome it.
 
For this anthology, I want to see solarpunk stories that take place in winter. That might mean working together to survive extreme blizzards, or feeling the heat in places that no longer see snow. Which renewable tech works best during long winter nights? How do solarpunk societies celebrate the winter holidays? Keep it planet-based (Earth or other), and optimistic. Solarpunk worlds aren’t necessarily utopias, but they definitely aren’t dystopias.
 
We're a northern hemisphere publisher, but southern hemisphere winters are also welcome!
 
Need inspiration? Read New York 2140 by Kim Stanley Robinson, the Sunvault anthology, or Glass & Gardens: Solarpunk Summers.
 
Submission Method: Send your story as a .doc, .docx, or .rtf attachment to solarpunk[at]worldweaverpress[dot]com with Submission: [story title] in the subject line. Please include a brief cover letter, but DO NOT summarize your story in the cover letter. 
​
Simultaneous submissions: Yes, you may submit your story to other markets before you hear back from us. Please let us know ASAP if someone else accepts it.
 
Multiple submissions: No, please only send us one story for consideration.

About the Anthologist:
​
Sarena Ulibarri is Editor-in-Chief of World Weaver Press, and she is also a fiction writer who has been published in Lightspeed, Fantastic Stories of the Imagination, Weirdbook, and elsewhere. Her solarpunk stories have appeared in Biketopia: Feminist Bicycle Science Fiction Stories in Extreme Futures ("Riding in Place"), GigaNotoSaurus ("Chrysalis in Sunlight"), and DreamForge ("The Spiral Ranch"). She lives in a solar-powered adobe house in New Mexico, and can be found online at SarenaUlibarri.comand @SarenaUlibarri. She edited the anthologies Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Summers and Speculative Story Bites.

It's time to celebrate our bestsellers for the second half of 2018! It's mostly newer releases this time, with a dash of some of our long-time bestsellers. There was even a little shifting in the All-Time Bestsellers list to make room for Wendy Nikel's popular time travel novellas. (And we're happy to say we'll have the third in that series ready for you in early 2019.)

Want to see how this list stacks up to last year? See the December 2017 bestseller list here. The first half of 2018 can be found here. Below, you'll find our top 10 bestsellers for the second half of 2018, as well as a list of our top 10 bestsellers of all time. Is your favorite on these lists? Let us know in the comments!

A few notes on these rankings:

• This list takes into account all vendors (Amazon, iTunes, convention tables, libraries etc.), from all countries, in both ebook and paperback.
• Vendors do not report sales to us for one to three months after the actual sale, so even though I'm calling this list "second half of 2018," it may include sales ranging from April to November 2018, depending on vendor reports.
• If you bought, reviewed, or signal boosted any of our books in 2018, THANK YOU!!! Small presses have to shut down all the time, but because of wonderful readers like you, we'll be offering more fun speculative fiction for years to come.

Sarena Ulibarri
Editor-in-Chief

Last month, we led the Twitter chat #SolarpunkChat, an initiative helmed by Upper Rubber Boot Books to discuss optimistic environmental science fiction. It's happening again on December 15, 2018, from 12-1 Eastern Time Zone, so please join this month's conversation! Just use the hashtag to participate in the chat.

November's discussion was about worldbuilding a solarpunk setting in winter. Check out some of the highlights from the chat below!

Are you writing a solarpunk story set in winter? That's what we'll be looking for with our next anthology, GLASS AND GARDENS: SOLARPUNK WINTERS! Submissions open January 1, 2019 to March 1, 2019. See the full guidelines here: Opening for Submissions Soon: Solarpunk Winters

Looking for some solarpunk stories to read? Check out GLASS AND GARDENS: SOLARPUNK SUMMERS and SOLARPUNK: ECOLOGICAL AND FANTASTICAL STORIES IN A SUSTAINABLE WORLD.

Jack Jetstark travels the universe to seek out the descendants of superpowered freaks created long ago by VesCorp scientists. The vibrations encoded in a particular song transform the members of Jack’s crew into a firebreather and an angel, a wildman and telepathic conjoined triplets, so they hide the truth of who they really are with the theatrics of a carnival.
 
The song plays every night through the receptor Jack carries with them, but when one night it has a different ending and their temporary powers become permanent, Jack believes the change is a signal from the woman who sent him on this quest in the first place. He and his freaks must navigate a universe at war to protect the love of his life.
 
But does the ruler of VesCorp really need protecting?

If you are interested in science fiction that incorporates superheroes, carnivals, space, and much more, then grab yourself a copy! JACK JETSTARK'S INTERGALACTIC FREAKSHOW is out in ebook and paperback today, December 4, 2018!

Jennifer Lee Rossman is a disabled and autistic freak, and proudly so. Her work has been featured in many anthologies and her debut novella, Anachronism, was published by Kristell Ink in 2018. She blogs
​at http://jenniferleerossman.blogspot.com/ and tweets @JenLRossman.

Each year, the Pushcart Prize invites literary magazines and small presses to nominate their best short fiction to be considered for both a prestigious prize and a "best of" anthology. We published two short fiction anthologies this year, and chose six stories between them to nominate.

Scroll down to find out our 2019 Pushcart Prize nominees — for stories published in 2018 — plus a brief excerpt from each story. Congratulations to these authors, and good luck!

From Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Summers
Anthology edited by Sarena Ulibarri

DK Mok is a fantasy and science fiction author whose novels include Squid’s Grief and Hunt for Valamon. DK has been shortlisted for four Aurealis Awards, two Ditmars and a WSFA Small Press Award. DK graduated from UNSW with a degree in Psychology, pursuing her interests in both social justice and scientist humour. DK lives in Sydney, Australia, and her favourite fossil deposit is the Burgess Shale. Connect on Twitter @dk_mok or www.dkmok.com.

From Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Summers
Anthology edited by Sarena Ulibarri

Stefani Cox is a Los Angeles-based speculative fiction writer and lapsed urban planner. She’s an alumna of the VONA/Voices of Our Nations Arts writing workshops and an associate editor for PodCastle fantasy fiction podcast. Stefani also works as a communications consultant, and spends her free time practicing yoga, hiking, and being an insatiable bookworm. She holds a master’s in City and Regional Planning from UC Berkeley. Find her on Twitter @stefanicox or her website stefanicox.com.

From Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Summers
Anthology edited by Sarena Ulibarri

Wendy Nikel is a speculative fiction author with a degree in elementary education, a fondness for road trips, and a terrible habit of forgetting where she's left her cup of tea. Her short fiction has been published by Fantastic Stories of the Imagination, Daily Science Fiction, Nature: Futures, and elsewhere. Her time travel novella, The Continuum, was published by World Weaver Press in January 2018, with a sequel forthcoming. For more info, visit wendynikel.com.

From Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Summers
Anthology edited by Sarena Ulibarri

Blake Jessop is a Canadian writer, lecturer, and poet. You can read more of his science fiction in the 2018 Young Explorer's Adventure Guide from Dreaming Robot Press, or follow him on Twitter @everydayjisei.

From Solarpunk: Ecological and Fantastical Stories in Sustainable Worlds
Anthology edited by Gerson Lodi-Ribeiro, Translated from the Portuguese by Fabio Fernandes

Romeu Martins is a journalist, specializing in scientific dissemination, and an author of fantastic literature. He began writing fiction in 2008 for his own blog, Terroristas da Conspiração (Terrorists of the Conspiracy), where he also published a few dozen other writers. Today, he has work in books by three national publishers, and an excerpt from his short story has been selected and translated into English for the Steampunk Bible by Americans Jeff VanderMeer and S. J. Chambers. With Editora Draco, he debuted as a short storyteller in Sherlock Holmes—Aventuras Secretas (2012).

From Solarpunk: Ecological and Fantastical Stories in Sustainable Worlds
Anthology edited by Gerson Lodi-Ribeiro, Translated from the Portuguese by Fabio Fernandes

André S. Silva is a carioca (native of Rio de Janeiro), a civil servant, and a student of Letters at UFRJ. He started writing fanfictions inspired by the X-Files series in the late 1990s. He collaborated with OTP Filmes in the screenwriting of short films and had short stories in the 2011 Literary Challenge and the Henry Evaristo Prize for Fantastic Literature 2012, both on the website A Irmandade (The Brotherhood). For Editora Draco, he participated in two anthologies, Dragões (2012) and Excalibur (2013). Find him on Twitter @andressilva

For today's Small Press Week post, we asked some of our authors to recommend some of their favorite reads from the past year. Check out their recommendations below!

World Weaver Press is participating in Small Press Week, an initiative helmed by Upper Rubber Boot Books to promote small press publishing. Every day there is a new topic that concentrates on a different facet of publishing! The topic for today says: "Every Tuesday is #newreleasetuesday, but this Tuesday is for featuring all of your current 2018 releases, no matter when their release date."

We published eight new books in 2018, and you can see the whole list below! Beside each book, you'll find an excerpt. Maybe you'll even find a new favorite or a good holiday gift.

Baba Yaga will be ready to fly her mortar and pestle right into your bookshelf (or ereader) on January 22, 2019, and you can pre-order your copy now! Amazon's being weird about the paperback right now, so please consider ordering your copy directly from us. Paperback pre-orders will be only $10.95, plus shipping—the price will go up to $13.95 on release day.

Want to know more about what kind of stories we've put together for you? Read an excerpt from "A Tale Soon Told" by Lissa Sloan, and one from "Boy Meets Witch" by Rebecca A. Coates below!

From "A Tale Soon Told" by Lissa Sloan

The tale is soon told.

I have walked this path before. It winds through the wood, skirting gullies and rocky outcroppings, growing wide and narrow as it chooses. My feet know the way. They didn’t to begin with, though. Not that first time, when they were bare and soft and felt the prick of every pine needle and pebble underneath them. Every part of me was soft then.

“Keep going,” I breathed into the dark. All around me were the sounds of the wood at night. The hoot of an owl, the scratching of a mouse in the brush. The scream of a hare, a fox’s teeth around its throat. The breeze rustled through the trees, and I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders. The spring days were getting warm, but the nights were cold still.

“Which way?” I whispered, as loud as I dared.

The voice came from the little doll clutched in my hand. Between those trees, my love.

“I cannot see the path,” I whispered. “It is too dark.”

To your right, dearest, she said. I held her up so her bright gaze fell on the trees she meant, lighting them just a little.

“It is too dark,” I said again. “How could Anya see to make her lace in the dark?” I asked the doll. “Her pins make no light. She could see no better than me.” She didn’t answer. I kept walking.

I stumbled on a tree root, falling to my hands and knees. “And how could Olga see to knit?” I went on as I stood up, rubbing one stinging palm on my skirt. “Her needles make no light either. She could see no better than me.” Then I added under my breath, “And I could see nothing.”

My love, the doll said gently, never mind your sisters now. You have your task, and you must do it. Do not worry tonight. The morning is wiser than the evening. I knew she was right, so I said no more.

I went on through the forest. I walked a long time or a short time, the doll in my hand telling me to climb a rise or ford a stream or go straight ahead. And all the while I listened to the nighttime sounds of the wood: the howls and rustles, the creaks and shuffles.

At last I heard a new sound. It was the jingle of a horse’s bridle, the muffled tread of hooves on the soft earth. I dropped the doll into my pocket and ducked behind a tree, my eyes fixed on the dark path before me. When the horse came through the trees, I saw her clearly. She almost glowed in the blackness, her mane streaming out behind her in the breeze. She was white. White like snow. White like the moon. White like new milk. And so was her rider. He was dressed all in white from his boots to his helmet.
The pair slowed on the path, and for a moment I forgot about my stepmother sending me to fetch fire from the baba yaga. I forgot my fear of the dark. I found myself stealing out from behind the tree, my hands searching my pockets until my fingers closed on what I wanted. It was one of the carrots I had stuffed into my pocket as I left the house. I wanted to give this beautiful creature something. I wanted to be near her warmth, to stand in her glow, if only for a moment. I took another step onto the path, holding out my offering.

The rider watched me. Perhaps he could see in the dark. Or perhaps his brightness illuminated everything around him. He stopped his horse and beckoned me closer, leaning down with his arms crossed on his horse’s pommel. When the horse had accepted the carrot and moved on to nuzzling one of my braids, I heard a low chuckle. I looked up at the rider. His smile was warm, lifting his white mustaches at the edges and crinkling the corners of his eyes. He reached down and tapped my nose with one white-gloved finger. Then he winked, touched his mount with his heels, and the white horse and rider galloped away. The sky began to lighten. Dawn was coming at last.

The doll had told me that morning is wiser than evening; it was what she always said. I didn’t feel any wiser, though. I began to see the wood around me as I walked. But I still needed the doll to tell me which way to go when the path forked or seemed to disappear entirely. I kept walking, a long time or a short time, listening to the birds waking and calling to each other in the growing light.

From "Boy Meets Witch" by Rebecca A. Coates

In the deepest, darkest part of the forest, where the trees grow as tall as the sky, there was a small clearing, and in that clearing was a single-wide General Coach “Chateau” trailer on cinder blocks. Its white sides were dull with dust, its window curtains were faded, and its awning dipped at one corner where the supporting post tilted like a drunk.

Alex pushed up his glasses with a knuckle and tongued his braces nervously. Maybe the kids at school had been having him on. Maybe they’d known he was eavesdropping and this was all a big set-up.

He’d left his bike at the base of the trail where it branched off the old logging road. Dry needles crackled under his sneakers as he picked his way across the clearing. The sun was bright overhead, but the trees were so close together that only a slender shaft of light, still hazy with smoke from the summer forest fires, broke through. A double line of round white stones, half-hidden under dead twigs and snarls of browning ferns, led up the front path. Beneath the trailer’s front door, three aluminum steps dangled over the dirt. They echoed tinnily under his feet. Heart thumping in his throat, he raised a hand and knocked.

No answer.

“Hey! Anybody home?” He knocked again, harder this time--bang! bang! bang!

The trailer trembled with approaching footsteps. The door flew open, and an old woman glared at him through the screen. She had a bird’s nest of dirty white hair and a wobbly jaw like a hound dog. Spotted pouches sagged under her watery eyes. Her whole face looked like it could slide off its bones as easily as an egg out of a frying pan. “Vat da hell do you vant?” she said in an accent like a B-movie Dracula.

“I—” His voice cracked embarrassingly. “I heard that, uh, that a witch lives here.”
She raised one hairy white eyebrow. “So?”

“I need your help.” He shoved his fists into his jeans pockets and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I need you to, um, take care of someone for me. You know, like take care of?”

The old woman narrowed her eyes. “Go home, little boy,” she said, and slammed the door shut.

He flinched. Rude old bitch! He was 14! He wasn’t a child. He banged on the door with his fist, shaking the frame. “Hey! Hey, lady! C’mon, please?”

The door opened just enough for her to squint through it, looking him up and down. He was taller than her but only just, still waiting for that growth spurt he really hoped was around the corner. She sucked on her teeth, which were white and weirdly even. Probably dentures, he figured; it would explain why her s’s sounded so mushy. She licked her creased lips. “You are fat enough, I think.”

His face went hot and he had to bite his tongue, hard, to keep back something rude.
“Well,” she said, “maybe I will help you. And if not, you will make nice meal.”

“Yeah,” he said doubtfully, “I’m not much of a cook.”

She wheezed out a laugh like he’d just said something funny. Witch or not, he decided, this old bag was seriously wacko.

She stepped away from the screen door and shuffled into the trailer. Her red velour track suit was stretched and shiny across her lumpy bottom, which seemed to have sucked all the flesh out of her arms and legs. “Don’t stand in doorway,” she said without turning around. “Come in.”