SFWP is an independent press dedicated to the craft of writing. We stand by our authors and we stand by our books, embracing new trends and ideas beyond those of the current publishing industry. Learn more about SFWP.


Four of the 2013 Literary Awards Program winners will be published in spring 2015. Find out more right here, and find the list of fiction winners here, and nonfiction here. There is not an Awards Program in 2014.

If you’re looking for news on the Gifford’s Ice Cream memoir, check out the publisher’s blog.

Find out more about SFWP’s origins and founder Andrew Gifford at Delphi Quarterly.

I started publishing because I love books. I publish titles that I would buy, and that I want to see on the shelves, regardless of genre. SFWP’s mission is not about making a fortune, or creating a catalog that the accountants can get behind. The mission is one of recognition and preservation. These books are works of art, as precious as anything you would hang on your wall. Please take a moment to explore our titles and join me on this mission.

-Andrew Gifford, Director



The Latest From the Journal

A Man Forbid by Jon Sindell

By: Jon Sindell

Soil rich black and moist yearned like woman awaiting the seed. The sleeper’s lips trembled as the dreamer beheld a single seedling emerging from the soil, teardrop leaves of luminous green arching out from its crotch, the soil black and moist as the gigantic wedges of cake in the magazine ads his mother would paste to the fridge like a dream of home life…

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Not His Fault by Tisha Reichle

By: Tisha Reichle

“They’ve gotta do something or we’ll be doomed for another decade.” I leave their sticky juice for him to rinse, and I drop the collected crumbs into the trash on my way to the bathroom to finish reading the sports section.
“Not his fault,” he calls to my back as I close the door.
“Nothing ever is,” I mutter as I turn on the fan light. Its overly loud growl mutes anything else he might say.

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Rain, Like A Curtain by RS Paulette

By: RS Paulette

When he pulls away, I can taste a tang of rainwater on my lips, wishing it was the taste of him. He opens the car door, motions for me to get inside, and follows in after…

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