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.

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


Alan Cheuse Memorial

As many of you know, we lost Alan Cheuse in July. It was such an honor to work with him over the last ten years and give his short fiction a space on the shelves with The Fires, Paradise, or, Eat Your Face, and An Authentic Captain Marvel Ring. Alan was also a friend and mentor. His loss still stings, and I still sit here waiting for him to email or call about the many projects we had in the hopper. It’s a strange world without his voice and wisdom. His family has issued an open invitation to his memorial service on October 11th. All are welcome to come and celebrate this great author, teacher, and person. The details are below: We invite you to join us as we remember and celebrate our beloved Alan Cheuse. Please pass this info along — all are welcome. Sunday, October 11, 2015 2:30 PM Sixth & I Historic Synagogue 600 I St NW, Washington, DC 20001 Immediately following, everyone is invited to visit with family and friends at the synagogue and enjoy light refreshments. Directions and parking. For out of towners: The synagogue is located near the Gallery Place metro stop on the Red Line, Yellow & Green Lines. In lieu of flowers, the family welcomes donations to your local public radio station, or any other organization near and dear to you or to Alan, such as: PEN/Faulkner Foundation, Writers In Schools Program Note: In Memory of Alan Cheuse For more information: Elizabeth Gutting: egutting@penfaulkner.org. The Squaw Valley Community of Writers Note: Cheuse Memorial Scholarship By mail: PO Box 1416 Nevada City,... read more

Spring 2015

It’s launch day for four of our five spring 2015 releases! From the 2013 Literary Awards Program, we welcome three winning authors to the catalog today – April L. Ford, Allen Gee, and Stephen G. Eoannou. April L. Ford’s The Poor Children walked away with the grand prize in fiction, awarded by New York Times bestselling author David Morrell. Her stories have been described as edgy and dark and, indeed, they do jump off the page and savage you if you’re not careful. April’s not one to pull punches, in life or in her writing, and The Poor Children is a vivid, powerful collection that explores the dark side of the human condition through a cross-section of fascinating characters—a correctional officer fixated on a juvenile offender, a Goth teenager and her werewolf boyfriend, a pyromaniac by happenstance, a set of twins haunted by an unconfirmed death, and more. It’s a powerful, daring debut from a prolific author that you will be seeing more of in the future. I promise. Find out more right here! Allen Gee’s My Chinese-America walked away with the second prize in the nonfiction program, awarded by the “godfather of nonfiction” himself, Lee Gutkind. The collection opens with an essay about Gee being stopped by a cop on a lonely country road and ruthlessly profiled. From there, Gee peels away the scales to reveal a very segregated, very broken America. Perhaps more broken than many of us truly realize. It’s the sort of manuscript that, even after reading it dozens of times during the book production process, I still can’t put it down. Publishers Weekly agrees:... read more

Nostalgia: The Gifford's Memoir Project Part 7

Nostalgia. It’s a hard thing to work around. In the past year, as I’ve researched the quiet insanity that is the Gifford family, I’ve probably talked to about a hundred people. I’ve talked to former employees, vendors, neighbors, and family friends. I’ve interviewed lawyers, diary farmers, doctors, and a man who claimed to live in the dank, horrific basement of the Silver Spring store for ten years. I’ve spoken to jilted investors, and people who lapsed into Tourette’s-style breakdowns the moment I mentioned the name “Robert Gifford.” All of them, though, always come around to one thing. Oh, those glorious Alpine Splits, Big Tops, and summer days spent gorging on 19% butterfat ice cream until you passed gently into a diabetic coma. The glory of Gifford’s Ice Cream! Ask any native Washingtonian about it and you’ll get two scoops of nostalgia. Which is fine… But then I’ve had to sit here for almost 30 years and watch shifty businessmen buy and sell the rights to the name, usually in wild bids to cash in on the legacy at all costs. I suppose that’s fine, too. Except, when I look back at my own past, nostalgia is replaced with nightmares… Gifford’s Ice Cream was a strange, otherworldly place for me. I go into great detail in the memoir of my anti-Willy Wonka childhood — the rats and cockroaches that patrolled the darkened interior of the Silver Spring store, drunken episodes on rum raisins, huffing dry ice, and my father’s shocking behavior in the largely deserted second floor. I look back on those chapters as I steadily revise away and I’m... read more