Dear Writers,

First and foremost, we want to thank you for participating in the writing and art contest for our inaugural anthology, Les Oiseaux du Mal – Birds of Evil.

As a young publishing house, only four months old, we had no idea what to expect. 50 submissions would be amazing, we thought.

But not only did we receive over twice that amount, your work has left a lasting impression. We had an absolute blast reading your chill-inducing poems and twisted stories and were entranced by the incredible art you’ve sent us. We were mesmerized. We were appalled. We wanted to dissect those morbid, fascinating brains of yours. This is all praise to you and your art.

Unfortunately, we only have so much space in our anthology, so we forced ourselves to make a selection. We made this selection with ceremony and we thank you for your patience. Your stories and poems were blind read and studied by our team of five, without knowing the writers behind them, so we could judge without bias.

Writing Contest

So, without further ado, these are our shortlisted submissions for poetry and short fiction (in no particular order):

Flowers by Scar H.C.

The Spare by Glen Creed

Cutting Teeth by Daniel Altenburg

We the Putrescent by Gregory Blair

The Banality of Evil by Barry Charman

The Three Headed Flying Werewolf by Raquel Rocha

Morning Star by Thorgeir Wintermere

Flores de Alcatraz by Rowan Hendryx

A Taste of Love in Hearts and Minds by E. H. Lau

Corpse Flower by Ray Imgrund

Der Tod by Quain Holtey

The Third Gift by Ren Crewell-Fuerst

Like Father Like Son by Ricardo A. Martagón

Autobiography of a Bad Idea by Chris Dunne

Can’t Take it With You by Gordon Brown

The New Metamorphosis by Amy L Bernstein

Paperweight Eyes by Shannon Weston

A Bold Choice by Rebecca Spelman

Everybody Loves a Dead Girl by Ben Nardolilli

The Hunger Before the Mouth by Sandolore Sykes

Congratulations to everyone who has marched on to the next round! The final selection will be announced later this month, so keep an eye on your inboxes. In the meantime, please continue to let us know if your work has been chosen elsewhere so that we may make timely room for other contenders.

Art Contest

The artworks we’ve received were astonishing and we had a hard time selecting only one. Nevertheless, we want to congratulate the winner of our art contest, whose artwork will grace the cover of this anthology:

Amelia Nestler with her painting of Ravens spilling out of a Cage

We will get in touch with you separately to discuss further steps!

If you were not named above, we look forward to cheering your work out in the wild. Please know the margins were thin–we are lucky to have gathered you here, and we see your talent. Let’s stay in touch.

And of course thank you, everyone, for trusting us with your work. Now that we’ve tasted you, we insist that you don’t be a stranger.

Dreadfully yours,

Nightingale

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But there are so many little horrors than can be easily missed, unless you know where to look, and who to listen to. So today we’ll listen to Alba’s story, an oracle who never asked to be divinity-adjacent.

We invite you to ponder over one of life’s most overlooked horrors: the cruelty inflicted on the innocent.

Hope you enjoy.

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The author of today’s story is . Read the story here.

Review

Wordcount: 1800 words

Genre: Drama, mythology

Pitch: An oracle dares to dream of seeing again, after being blinded in her childhood.

What we thought of it: Mythology has a was on uniting people through the surprising uniformity of legends between cultures. It can also feel impalpable and distant, because it references events from way before our time. Jane has a talent of humanizing myths and focusing on the small details that legends tend to skim over. In “The Source”, a figure as close to divinity as a mortal can get is brought back down to earth, with tenderness and care.

Audience participation:

1. Did you ever experience the need to shrink yourself for your own protection?

2. Alba is protected from hardship through her holiness. Other tend to her earthly needs, as she tends to the clan’s transcendental ones. Which fate do you think it’s preferable? A young woman having a family and minding her own home, or Alba, shackled into a gilded cage?

3. To what extent do you believe Alba’s lover’s intentions were truthful? Do you think he ever loved her?

Please leave your answers below. The more people participate, the more interesting the conversation will become.

The Nightingale Book Club is a recurring series from Nightingale Press. Subscribe so you don’t miss it.

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No one ever said opening a publishing house is easy. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

These past few weeks have been a gauntlet for the Nightingale team, bringing a perfect storm of real-life challenges all at once. For me and my family, it has meant navigating severe medical complications and a few unexpected ER trips.

You’ve likely already noticed how much incredible work Laura, Johanna, and Birdie have been putting into the foreground, while Kitti has been working tirelessly behind the scenes, all so I can navigate healthcare in the US. At the exact same time, Johanna has been dealing with an arm impairment, and Kitti and Birdie have been navigating massive, exhausting moves. Which has left Laura—who has a full time job and a child—to carry the world on her shoulders.

We have been in business for less than six months (a little over 3 to be exact). And think about it—in less than 100 days, we have: held a fiction and poetry contest, organized anthology submissions, hosted a manuscript pitch event, AND paid indie authors competitive rates.

Honestly, we saw this coming. You cannot put five hardworking, stubborn, determined humans together in a room and not expect a crash when pressure builds.

Now we need to look at the reality of where we are.

We are an indie press run entirely by five people working completely unpaid, pouring our hearts into this out of pure passion. But passion doesn’t prevent exhaustion. To keep this house alive and thriving, we need to give ourselves some breathing room.

We also are entirely committed to our promises to you—which means transparency about where things stand on both sides of the house.

On the Business Side

We have recently experienced severe financial and logistical struggles with outside contractors, to the point where we are currently filing a suit in small claims court for maximum allowable damages. To complicate matters, our bank account was temporarily frozen due to a fraud investigation related to these issues.

The good news? The investigation is officially complete, and we are completely in the clear. The frustrating news: We now have to wait a standard 14 to 21 business days for the bank to release and return our funds.

The physical printing and release of The Nightingale Anthology V.1 remains on track (pending the resolution of these final financial logistics). The moment those funds land back in our account, that means a huge weight off of our shoulders.

What “Breathing Room” Means for Us (and You)

Our authors and community are, and always will be, our first priority. We aren’t going anywhere, but we are slowing our pace for a brief moment to catch our breath, protect our mental health, and regroup.

To clear up any loose ends, here is what you can expect from us over the next few weeks:

• The Anthology Contest: We are keeping our end of the deal. We are still on track to review submissions and plan to announce the winners by the end of July.

• Content: You will still see our scheduled book clubs and grimoires, but with a little more time between each. These are what I call “extras.” If any other area of the press needs attention, these are the first to get put on the back burner.

• Communication: To put it frankly, I will not allow stress to be the thing that takes one of us away from our families, and we are the point where physical health is being affected. This is where we need your grace. Our response times to emails, DMs, and comments will be significantly slower than usual while we prioritize our health and families.

How You Can Help

Bumps in the road are part of the journey, especially in the first six months of a grassroots startup. Right now, the absolute best ways you can support Nightingale are through understanding, empathy, and patience.

If you have the financial means and want to help us offset ongoing operational costs while we wait for our bank funds to clear, donations are incredibly appreciated. Every single dollar goes directly into keeping the gears turning and supporting the future of this press.

Click Here to Support Nightingale Press

Thank you for supporting us, for trusting us with your stories, and for giving our small team the space to navigate this rough patch. We will keep you updated every step of the way.

—Nikki

Did you miss the Grimoire? We did!

Since the last installment, we’ve been busy listening to the voices in our head and those on the page. Was it wise? Who knows. Maybe the voices do. In any case, let’s analyze them, shall we?

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If the sentence structure was kind of like the muscles of the story and the plot is the skeleton, would the narrative voice be the soul? Hope so, because it’s relevant for today’s piece.

The exact same story can change dramatically depending on whose perspective it’s presented from. As a writer, you play around with what you tell the reader and what not; what each character knows, what they’re led to believe. You control how intimate you want your writing to be.

Kind of like the same body behaves in different ways, depending which spirit possesses the meat tank (relevant).

Table of Contents

First, you’re all alone — first person singular

You get some undesirable company — first person plural

You plead, but get no response — second person

Your world shrinks — third person limited

Then it expands — third person omniscient

It’s like you’re more than one person — multi POV

You can’t trust yourself — unreliable narrator

But it all works out in the end — style and tone

The assignment — only if you want to

First, you’re all alone — first person singular

One of the most popular POVs is the first person singular. It works very well because the narrator is also a character, so the reader feels very invested from the beginning. It’s like a friend is telling you the adventure they went through.

Use this if:

• you want the reader to connect emotionally with the narrator from the beginning;

• you want to be able to let the main character’s personality shine through their narration;

• you want to be able to control what the reader knows (more on unreliable narrators later).

Avoid if:

• you have a highly developed world where the main character doesn’t get to participate in a significant chunk of the action;

• you want to introduce lore that the main character is supposedly already familiar with;

• your narrator is annoying;

• you hate monologues.

Example:

Those who claim they invite the Old Ones in by accident are lying. I’d long suspected, but now I know for certain. Little things can change, but the core will always be the same: a burning wish.

The ritual requires the usual paraphernalia: candles, salt, an offering. Nothing electronic, because the Old Ones prefer their long-established ways. Anything unexpected can still work, but it produces unknown variables they can’t always predict, or control.

This infuriates them. And an Old One’s anger is a thing to behold.

I would know.

The narrator tells the reader their perspective on invocation rituals. Whatever generalisms they use are their own opinion. Nothing mentioned in this section is a true fact, but rather the lived experience of the character.

You get some undesirable company — first person plural

Less common is the first person plural, which is quite experimental. Never saw it used in any long form fiction, but if you will be the first, please let us know.

Use this if:

• you’re feeling a bit wild;

• you have the same attributes as the first person singular but your MC is a multi-entity abomination of some kind (I tried it for the first time here);

• you’re writing non-fiction on behalf of a group, like I am on behalf on Nightingale (or maybe we’re all crammed around a keyboard fighting to get a word in, you’ll never know).

Avoid if:

• your Mom said you can’t;

• same issues as for the first person singular, mostly, although a multi-entity abomination might be able to solve most of them with a bit of creativity.

Example:

We were summoned on a thundering night.

We were slurped away from the dark abyss and squelched into the shivering body of a little man. Some of us twisted, others pushed, we all tried to find room inside the cramped vessel that could barely contain us.

He contorted, groaned in excruciating pain. An Old One is difficult enough to behold, but multiple are deadly.

And yet, he did not die.

Here, the “we” is a conglomeration of demonic entities (perhaps the correct term is a “parliament of demonic entities”) who act as one. If you do use the first person plural, make sure it’s relevant to the plot and can’t be easily replaced by first person singular.

Otherwise it’s just a gimmick, and you’re better than that.

You plead, but get no response — second person

Another fun option, second person allows the narrator to addres the reader directly. Wanna read a bunch of (very short) second person POV stories? Why, of course I will mention ’s lovely collaborative event.

Use this if:

• you want the reader to experience the story deeply, as a character themselves;

• you’re writing an epistolary novel;

• you’re writing a choose-your-own-adventure novel.

Avoid if:

• your Mom is still lingering in the room even if you told her to get out;

• you’re planning to get traditionally published. Some publishers don’t like when the writers get too crazy;

• you have extensive lore that would need to be explained to the reader, while also working under the assumption the reader knows the lore;

• likewise, there can be a cognitive dissonance if the readers would react/think differently than the author assumes they would.

Example:

You are reading this tale with your human eyes, you scroll with your puny hand.

You scratch, you shift, you roll your eyes. You know where this is going, because deals with Old Ones always end the same way: the Old One delivers ephemeral treasures to the host, which relents their soul in return upon their death.

But, you think, usually there is only one Old One with whom the deal is made. What happens when there are two, or five, or a hundred, swarming and jostling, and gasping for flecks of soul in the tiny cage of human flesh?

You’re curious, and you read on.

The second person POV works well in small doses and for relatively general things. However, writing is an art, and art is meant for experimentation. Go forth and experiment.

Your world shrinks — third person limited

One of the classics: the narration follows one character and can only describe what happens to them, what they think, what they feel. Other characters are hidden in obscurity unless they reveal themselves—and the revelations might be misleading.

Use this if:

• you want the readers to experience the world through the main character, but at a slight distance;

• you want narrative flexibility, such as describing backstory and lore.

Avoid if:

• you want the readers to be privy to other character’s thoughts and feelings;

• you want the readers to immediately connect with the main character.

Example:

The man looked normal from the outside, usually. As normal as possible, given he had always been an outsider. Mostly an outsider: he populated that strange space where an outcast is welcomed, albeit reluctantly, into a circle of peers who work very hard to ignore his eccentricities.

Most people do not monologue at length about demonology, pacts, and loopholes to keeping one’s soul secure even in the face of a powerful demon. At least, not at a child’s eighth birthday party.

Other than information about this character, we get generalities. That’s it. No extra info about other characters. Unlike…

Then it expands — third person omniscient

If you want to feel like a God, the best way is to start a cult. If you don’t have the charisma, you can settle on the next best thing, which is an omnicient POV in your novel: the narrator that knows everything about everyone.

Use this if:

• you want the reader to know information the main character doesn’t yet know;

• you want to add a bunch of delicious lore, sprinkled inbetween bits of action;

• you want to keep it real with the reader: they know everything that’s going on.

Avoid if:

• you have too many characters the narrator would jump between: it can get confusing;

• you want the reader to feel like they’re part of the adventure. Too much knowledge creates emotional distance.

Example:

Shame his daughter was so delightful, and kind, and loved by all the other children. And so the other parents would smile awkwardly, nod, and sip their virgin cocktails while waiting for a polite moment to extract themselves from the monodirectional conversation. Not that he would even notice if they left halfway through.

The man would not know that the other parents are super excited to hear about soul trading. But we know. Because we need to know.

It’s like you’re more than one person — multi POV

Ah, the multi POV. The best of all the worlds described so far. Because of its inherent multidimensionality, you can play with all the POVs described before and harness all their delicious benefits when needed.

Use this is:

• you want the reader to have a holistic view of the story, but coloured through the lens of each character;

• you want the reader to build rapport with multiple characters. Bonus points if they’re on opposite sides and you get to present them both as in the right;

• you want to play with multiple narrative lines.

Avoid if:

• your characters sound similar. The reader will get confused;

• you want a fast-paced novel.

Example:

The Man:

The squirm of Old Ones inside me is killing me fast. My hair has fallen out, my teeth too. My limbs swell from one day to the next. But if I survive this, it will all be worth it. I just need to hold on for a little longer.

The Old Ones:

We could never die, but we feel we’re coming close. His soul is sealed away, no matter how much we search for it in the tiniest nooks and crannies of his body. No soulless human has managed to call upon us before, and never so many of us at once. We try to shift, but there is not more room. New Old Ones join our rat king every moment.

We shall escape. If he bursts first.

The mastermind:

I laugh, thinking of the way the Old Ones scramble to find the soul. If they can’t find it in time, they will choke on each other and combust. They will never allow themselves to perish, so they will relent and fulfill my wish.

Each characters gets their little spotlight to express how they feel about the same situation or each other. This can be a great way to build tension!

You can’t trust yourself — unreliable narrator

Probably the most difficult voice to pull off is the one of an unreliable narrator. As a writer, you need to balance how much information you give to the reader, what directions you lead the characters in, how much to tell or refreain from telling to allow the reader to come to the right conclusions at the right time.

Use this if:

• you want the readers to investigate every line the characters say, every detail they’re presented;

• you have a banging plot twist you want to hide in plain sight;

• you want to characterize the narrator though the narration itself, usually leading to a subtle commentary on a relevant issue.

Avoid if:

• you’re afraid the narrator would need to hide too much information, leading to the reader feeling cheated;

• your story would become too confusing;

• you would create plot holes or would need to rely on Deus Ex Machinas to provide the missing information to the reader.

Example:

When a man keeps talking about evading soul-collection, people assume he’s crazy. I DON’T.

When he reads books and obscure forum posts and smokes out hermits to discuss this topic, they say he’s kookoo.

But sometimes, things end up working for the “crazy” person.

His desire for more wins against all odds.

As the Old Ones swear loyalty one after the other and are SHOT out of him in puffs of green smoke, the man collects the contracts and deflates.

He’s barely alive, but he won.

Finishing the story will reveal in what ways the narrator in this section is unreliable. Sorry. A bit tricky to illustrate in one little section.

Intermission: Nocturnal Narrator

Only use if you’re or if you’re impersonating her. Side-effects include spontaneous cult formations, nuclear energy combusting in your veins, and aggresive communing with nature.

Example:

Jeffrey the Void Demon wants to make it absolutely clear he wants nothing to do with this. He is on holiday and would prefer people and eldritch entities alike respect the Do Not Disturb tag on his Teams profile. Thank you.

Best to avoid just in case. Onto the next.

But it all works out in the end — style and tone

In the end, no matter what narrative voice you choose, you need to personalize it. Would your narrator use longer sentences? Difficult words? Because they’re positively pompous?

Or they go short. Choppy. Quick. They’re a man of action.

Especially if you use a multi POV, make sure each voice is unique. The rest are allowed some leeway, because reading a whole book! written… in a weird? “way” would get—annoying. Quick. So use moderation.

Example:

My witchcraft is stronger than any you’ve encountered before, and you didn’t even notice it. That’s how good I am!

My classmates think I’m a goody two-shoes, always happy, always ready to help. What they don’t notice is that every favour I do doesn’t come for free. Over the years, I’ve built an impressive collection of debts. I wrote them nicely in my fluffy pink grimoire with a heart lock.

When my stupid Dad finally agreed to perform the ritual, his soul was already hidden between the pages, kept safe by all the debts I’ve accrued (I just learned what “accrued” means and I’m super excited to use it in a sentence!!)

The Old Ones didn’t stand a chance. All the research I made Dad do made sure of that. And now I have all their contracts collected and sorted, because I WILL get my wish.

One way or another, I WILL get my hands on a fluffy rainbow unicorn pony.

The unreliable narrator was the little girl! Whoo! Who hid her real identity until the end. Her tells are spunky, energetic sentences and relatively easy words (except “accrue”, which she had to include in a sentence).

Your Assignment

Short and sweet: try to write a story from each POV.

If you’re academically inclined, come up with a narrative and tell the story from each POV in turn to analyze the differences.

A bite sized treat (it’s a big bite; chew well)

The voices told us to write another story. We hope you enjoy:

Those who claim they invite the Old Ones in by accident are lying. I’d long suspected, but now I know for certain. Little things can change, but the core will always be the same: a burning wish.

The ritual requires the usual paraphernalia: candles, salt, an offering. Nothing electronic, because the Old Ones prefer their long-established ways. Anything unexpected can still work, but it produces unknown variables they can’t always predict, or control.

This infuriates them. And an Old One’s anger is a thing to behold.

I would know.

***

We were summoned on a thundering night.

We were slurped away from the dark abyss and squelched into the shivering body of a little man. Some of us twisted, others pushed, we all tried to find room inside the cramped vessel that could barely contain us.

He contorted, groaned in excruciating pain. An Old One is difficult enough to behold, but multiple are deadly.

And yet, he did not die.

***

You are reading this tale with your human eyes, you scroll with your puny hand.

You scratch, you shift, you roll your eyes. You know where this is going, because deals with Old Ones always end the same way: the Old One delivers ephemeral treasures to the host, which relents their soul in return upon their death.

But you think, usually there is only one Old One with whom the deal is made. What happens when there are two, or five, or a hundred, swarming and jostling, and gasping for flecks of soul in the tiny cage of human flesh?

You’re curious, and you read on.

***

The man looked normal from the outside, usually. As normal as possible, given he had always been an outsider. Mostly an outsider: he populated that strange space where an outcast is welcomed, albeit reluctantly, into a circle of peers who work very hard to ignore his eccentricities.

Most people do not monologue at length about demonology, pacts, and loopholes to keeping one’s soul secure even in the face of a powerful demon. At least, not at a child’s eighth birthday party.

***

Shame his daughter was so delightful, and kind, and loved by all the other children. And so the other parents would smile awkwardly, nod, and sip their virgin cocktails while waiting for a polite moment to extract themselves from the monodirectional conversation. Not that he would even notice if they left halfway through.

***

The Man:

The squirm of Old Ones inside me is killing me fast. My hair has fallen out, my teeth too. My limbs swell from one day to the next. But if I survive this, it will all be worth it. I just need to hold on for a little longer.

The Old Ones:

We could never die, but we feel we’re coming close. His soul is sealed away, no matter how much we search for it in the tiniest nooks and crannies of his body. No soulless human has managed to call upon us before, and never so many of us at once. We try to shift, but there is not more room. New Old Ones join our rat king every day.

We shall escape. If he bursts first.

The mastermind:

I laugh, thinking of the way the Old Ones scramble to find the soul. If they can’t find it in time, they will choke on each other and combust. They will never allow themselves to perish, so they will relent and fulfill my wish.

***

When a man keeps talking about evading soul-collection, people assume he’s crazy. I DON’T.

When he reads books and obscure forum posts and smokes out hermits to discuss this topic, they say he’s kookoo.

But sometimes, things end up working for the “crazy” person.

His desire for more wins against all odds.

As the Old Ones swear loyalty one after the other and are SHOT out of him in puffs of green smoke, the man collects the contracts and deflates.

He’s barely alive, but he won.

***

Jeffrey the Void Demon wants to make it absolutely clear he wants nothing to do with this. He is on holiday and would prefer people and eldritch entities alike respect the Do Not Disturb tag on his Teams profile. Thank you.

***

My witchcraft is stronger than any you’ve encountered before, and you didn’t even notice it. That’s how good I am!

My classmates think I’m a goody two-shoes, always happy, always ready to help. What they don’t notice is that every favour I do doesn’t come for free. Over the years, I’ve built an impressive collection of debts. I wrote them nicely in my fluffy pink grimoire with a heart lock.

When my stupid Dad finally agreed to perform the ritual, his soul was already hidden between the pages, kept safe by all the debts I’ve accrued (I just learned what accrued means and I’m super excited to use it in a sentence!!)

The Old Ones didn’t stand a chance. All the research I made Dad do made sure of that. And now I have all their contracts collected and sorted, because I WILL get my wish.

One way or another, I WILL get my hands on a fluffy rainbow unicorn pony.

The Nightingale Grimoire is a recurring series from Nightingale Press. Subscribe so you don’t miss it.

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until June 15 at 11:59 PM EST.

We’ll have a countdown starting 3 days before to remind you.

If you’ve been debating whether or not to get a storydoc, we wanted to show you what you’d be getting. And yes, you can ask for a storydoc even if you already submitted the piece. However, the window to get one closes once the submissions for the anthology close.

Is this a bit late? Yeah, sorry about that. We’re all volunteers here, we do what we can.

Full disclaimer: provided a short story (The Knocking Stopped) and wrote a storydoc for it. We didn’t use anyone else’s work for this, nor will we ever use someone’s work without proper crediting and approval. If you’re curious, the companion piece is here.

The story doc is ~5 pages, or 1600 words. You can read it in full below.

STORY DOC: THE KNOCKING STOPPED

Analysis & Editorial Commentary

Quick disclaimer: I use two different main fonts when I prepare story docs so your brain absorb information through two visual channels. Psychology hack. It’s the equivalent of physically forcing your brain to look at things from different angles.

This document focuses on clarity, pacing, emotional architecture, and trajectory toward the ending rather than line edits. I’ll note small examples where it strengthens the critique, but the emphasis is on the structure of the reading experience. After you revise, you’re welcome to send the updated section; I’ll take one more pass at no cost.

SNAPSHOT OVERVIEW

This piece has a great, cynical little engine driving it. Two guys guarding an ancient door, one does something incredibly stupid (throwing away a mayo-heavy sandwich), and the consequences spill out. The central twist—that the terrifying things behind the door are actually tragic, battered protectors holding back something much worse—is my shit. I love a good trope-subversion, especially when the humans turn out to be the real ones at the end, because hello.

The narrator’s voice is suitably callous and pragmatic. The baseline of irritation makes his ultimate betrayal at the end feel completely earned, but more arguably more important—in character. He just… wedges a desk against the door, and goes to take a shower. That coldness makes the final implication hit that much harder.

A few images lingered after the first read: the black ceiling with thousands of holes and flickering light bulbs instead of a sky; the frail, chalky flower petal that disintegrates on touch; and the female creature with pearly white teeth glinting between melted-off lips. Those details do a lot of heavy lifting to establish the wrongness of the pocket dimension.

FRICTION POINTS

The story moves very quickly, sometimes to its detriment. That being said, I know this was cut down to fit submission requirements. With that in mind, I think you did an very nice job of squeezing this into the word limit.

The setup is tight, but the pacing accelerates right when it needs to slow down. The exposition about the Rattlers, the town’s purpose, and their plea for an unlocked door gets delivered in a single, slightly rushed conversation. Because of that, the emotional weight of their sacrifice feels a little summarized.

The transition from the narrator being dragged into the house by a clawed creature to sitting down for tea is also a bit abrupt. The tension diffuses almost immediately. The host just lays all her cards on the table.

If I were you, I would consider expanding on this piece, and publishing.

Summary of Changes I’d Make

I’ll be elaborating on these in the full review.

★ Give the initial capture more breathing room before moving to the tea and exposition.

★ Break up the exposition; put more of the Rattler lore into conversation rather than a monologue.

★ Let the “melted lips” bit have its moment; show the narrator’s discomfort with their tragic performance.

★ Add a slightly more grounded action before the final “rattling” line. Now—for the more in-depth review:

First Impressions

The opening does its job quickly: I know who these brothers are within a few lines. The narrator is exasperated, burnt out, and practical. Tim is a whiny idiot. That dynamic, paired with the absurd inciting incident of a mayo-heavy sandwich, grounds the horror in mundane. Which, if you’ve read the Nightingale Grimoire, you know I LOVE. That slightly callous self-preservation is a perfect fit for the type of horror you’re writing.

Where the middle pages wobble is only in duration. We get dragged through the door, and suddenly the tension diffuses into a sit-down tea party where the host lays all her cards on the table. Kinda gave me whiplash.

But I really like the way you handle the reveal that they are protectors, not monsters. The tone stays matter-of-fact. The horror comes from watching these battered, tragic creatures putting on a desperate play of humanity just to beg for an unlocked door.

The section that should be the emotional peak—where the other creatures ask ‘Did we do a good job?’—is the part that feels least in focus. You tell me he feels almost pity, but I don’t get many beats to hold onto before he’s back out the door. The arc is clear on a conceptual level; it would land harder if a few more of those grotesque, heartbreaking details were on the page instead of summarized.

The ending itself is very well done. The immediate betrayal—wedging the desk against the door—leaves us in exactly the kind of cynical, doomed space this premise calls for.

What I wanted, as a reader, was a slightly more deliberate slide into that final image. Just enough additional descent that the last line feels earned. Right now, the wind rattling almost reads like a jump scare, and I don’t think that’s what you were going for.

Narrator & Voice

The voice is one of the big assets here. I believe this man exists because his dialogue sounds like someone who has had to parent his useless brother for too long and is fresh out of empathy. Lines like ‘you’re gonna get killed ‘cause you’re a pickier eater than a toddler’ give the whole thing a dry, bitter humor that keeps it from collapsing into generic panic. Big win here.

Where the voice starts to pull focus is in the speed of his acceptance. Once he’s inside, he very quickly transitions from hostage to polite guest listening to a lore dump. But I’ve already touched on this in the section above, so moving on…

Structure & Pacing

On a structural level, the story has a clear spine. The first act is perfectly paced. The story really kicks into gear the moment the knocking stops and they have to go in. When he gets dragged inside, you move very quickly from that moment into the tea party and the explanation of the Rattlers. This is a place where an extra beat of processing time would let the reader actually feel the shock before we’re flung into the exposition.

In the middle of the story, the pacing flips: major world-building gets delivered in a single monologue. You tell us about the Rattlers, the snake-like slithering, the gnawing of necks. We don’t see many signs of this war on the creatures themselves, other than the melted lips and the cradled shoe.

The result is that the tragedy makes sense on paper but feels quite thin in practice.

> I know, I know. ‘Show vs tell’ is so very overdone. But that’s because it’s important. It’s the difference in watching a movie, versus hearing the spoilers.

Let us see the scars. Let the host hesitate. A couple of concrete interactions or environmental details will do more to sell the danger of the Rattlers than any amount of summary.

The Town & The Creatures

The dynamic between the narrator and the creatures: Right now it’s outlined more than it’s painted, and that’s where a lot of the emotional impact is lost.

The initial conversation is promising: their polite attempt at hospitality, the awful clay pot of grass water, the chalky disintegrating flowers. This is a dynamic that could go in a lot of directions. You land on desperate, performative subservience, and I love it. I want more.

The moment the female creature asks, ‘Did we do a good job?’ is easily one of the best in the story. It’s both horrifying and pathetic. It flips the power dynamic: what began as him being dragged into the dark becomes them begging for crumbs of approval from their jailer.

> This low key made my stomach turn while processing the whole thing. Creepy—in a really fucked up way.

Because that moment is so good, it deserves a little more breathing room. Right now, his disgust is mostly implied. If he hesitated on the page—if he had to actively suppress his revulsion to lie to them—the reader would feel his complicity more strongly.

Ending & Liminal Space

A tidy, heroic resolution would feel so wrong for this story. We don’t need to know if the Rattlers immediately break through, or what exactly happens to Tim. We just need to feel the doom closing in because of the narrator’s selfishness.

“Probably,” the wind rattled at my window. - is an excellent last line.

Summary/Concluding Notes

You’ve got a strong, weird little horror story here with a narrator who suits the premise and some genuinely memorable images. The main things holding it back are a rushed capture, a monologued middle, and a slightly abrupt final descent.

If you revise, I’d spend energy on three areas: the transition into the house (so we feel the threat longer); give the conversation with the host at least one or two concrete environmental beats to sell the war with the Rattlers; and stretch the transition from his false promise to his safe apartment so the ending feels like sliding into a trap rather than being dropped into one.

The good news is that you have an excellent story here—you just need to redistribute attention. A little less time listening to the host explain the plot, and a little more time letting us watch the horrifying reality of their existence. That’s really my only note.

—Nightingale Press

Questions? info@nightingalepublishing.press

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Well, you’re wrong. You’ll be delighted, you’ll laugh, and you’ll enjoy every second of it.

A story this short wouldn’t have enough room for analysis, right? Wrong. the author manages to fit in a surprising amount of backstory without bogging the narrative down. I’d say it’s a story suited for more delicate palates.

Grab your fork and sit down. Breakfast is served.

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This week’s pick is authored by . Read the story here.

Review

Wordcount: 850 words (bite-sized!)

Genre: Sci-fi, humor

Pitch: As the cordial relation between Earth and another planet hang in balance, a diplomat wonders how much Earth really needs to avoid annihilation.

What we thought of it: Short, sweet, and perhaps a bit… fecal? Jeremy is a master of sci fi, be it serious or humorous. This mastery comes from a very light hand when it comes to delivering exposition: not too much, but just enough to give a taste. A garnish, if you will. One Small Bite For Man is a deliciously quick read that stays with you after you finish reading, not unlike a hematoma might.

Audience participation:

1. Were you ever in the position to eat something absolutely atrocious out of politeness?

2. Which earthling behaviours do you think would be off-putting to an alien civilization?

Please leave your answers below. The more people participate, the more interesting the conversation will become.

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My recommendation for this story is to be read at golden hour, while eating honey on freshly baked bread. Trust me. It helps with immersion.

Hope you enjoy, and let’s get reading.

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This week’s story is a relatively recent work from . Read it here.

Review

Wordcount: 1500 words

Genre: Horror

Pitch: The King’s alchemist is called to deliver a show of power, and so he does.

What we thought of it: Susurrant Horror, like their name, lives most comfortably in the quiet horror that seeps into your bloodstream before you even notice it. A combination of artistic writing, which is to reading like chocolate mousse to eating, and horrors whispering themselves into one’s ear led to this story of revenge, of despair, of finality. The story itself is short, but not blunt. The narrative flows elegantly, trapping you in its claws, and by the time you understand what’s going on, you’re met with unyielding finality.

Audience participation:

1. Gold being used as a metaphor for greed is common, but in the end the symbolism turns to revenge. What other symbols did you spot in the story that you may have interpreted differently at the beginning and at the end of the narrative?

2. What critiques of the real world can you identify? Do you agree with them, or do you have personal experience with any of them?

3. Think of the line: “As you watch, remember who it is that allowed you to have everything you ever wanted.” In your own life, who do you feel influences your level of (material) comfort the most? Is this a price you feel is worth paying?

Please leave your answers below. The more people participate, the more interesting the conversation will become.

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This book club entry is special in the sense that the author suggested some audience participation questions himself. How neat is that?

So, without further ado, let’s get into it.

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This week’s story is by the none other than . Read it here.

Review

Wordcount: 1300 words

Genre: Horror

Pitch: A man attempts to regain control over his body as more and more entities are forced inside him.

What we thought of it: The story is jarring in the best way. The abruptness is deliberate and serves the purposes of the text well. A talented writer uses all tools at his disposal to tell the story as completely as inside his mind, and using the quick POV switch is proof that Bradley is such an author. With no words wasted, it’s a read (or listen) as quick as the narrator’s descent into madness, and well-worth your time.

Audience participation:

1. Do you believe humans are the only life in the universe, and if not, do you believe we were the first ones here?

2. Given the state of our planet and our society, do you believe that we would be perceived as parasites by a more advanced species? Why or why not?

3. Gods and monsters have long been used throughout history as explanations for certain phenomenon. What if the same explanation could be applied to emotions? Are all emotions the product of some external influence?

Please leave your answers below. The more people participate, the more interesting the conversation will become.

The Nightingale Book Club is a recurring series from Nightingale Press. Subscribe so you don’t miss it.

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But maybe you have a novel you’re itching to release into the world too.

You might remember that we’ll have our pitch event soon, specifically on the 1st of June, which will run as an open thread on Wrizzit. We’ll vote on our favorites (by reacting to your pitch) and then you’ll send us a DM with your email. We’ll ask for what we need from then on.

Full details on what we’re looking for in the post linked below.

Nightingale Press News | Flagship Manuscript

Now we want to hear from you. Do you want to send us your work? Do you have any other pitch-related questions? If so, drop them down below and we’ll do our best to answer.

Thank you again for your support. Looking forward to getting our grubby mitts on your precious novels.

—Nightingale Press

Questions? info@nightingalepublishing.press

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After a great first week, the Nightingale Book Club is back, and a story of chilly ‘40s fog and a mysterious structure is just right on a sunny May Sunday (not quite, it’s actually cold and cloudy where I am).

As we did before, the review is short and sweet. Your weekend is precious and we don’t want to take too much of your time. However, we hope you will read the story and engage with the questions we suggest.

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First week’s entry is a tough act to follow, but Johanna’s recommendation is strong enough to shine: False Horizon by . Read it here.

Review

Wordcount: 5400 words

Genre: Horror, Dark academia

Pitch: Two siblings conduct scientific research on a mysterious lighthouse they found in a field.

What we thought of it: C.C.’s writing is dark and smooth like a warm cup of coffee. The prose lulls you into a world both unlike and the same as our own, and you find yourself at the end of the story before you even realize you’ve spent 40 minutes reading it. The action is slow, but the slowness is earned not only with careful seeding of clues, but also with delightfully immersive descriptions.

Audience participation:

1. The author uses a lot of sea-related imagery and symbolism from the beginning. What sensations do they evoke for you, and how do they compare to the way you usually interpret the sea?

2. Think of the duality of the Arkwright siblings: Celeste’s open-mindedness and Wesley’s reticence. Have do you feel the story would be served if only one of the two were to conduct the research?

3. How do you interpret the symbols of the missing step, of the decagon-turned-circle, the storm? Did you find other symbols you think have deeper meaning?

Please leave your answers below. The more people participate, the more interesting the conversation will become.

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We’re returning with another entry in the Grimoire. After we weaponized our sentences, we go deeper—this time all the way down to the bare bones of the plot and how to get the most out of it. Subscribe to join the cult.

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Last time we discussed sentences and how to bend them to your will.

But sentences cannot do all the heavy lifting on their own.

You need to have a good understanding of plot and what makes a good story. Because your prose might impress the readers, but they’re not going to stick around only for that.

So buckle up and let’s get started.

Table of Contents

Get them to trust you — make the reader trust and root for the protagonist

Make them comfortable — draw the reader with a familiar setting

Make them feel smart — readers should reach conclusions by themselves

Keep it classy — cut out anything that doesn’t serve the narrative

Seduce them — immerse the reader fully

Go for the kill — add a dramatic element

The assignment — only if you want to

Get them to trust you

In a sea of stories, yours needs to grasp the reader’s attention as soon as possible.

Start with a line that makes the reader stand up straighter. That catches their eye and makes them wonder how the rest of the story is going to go.

You need to set the expectations high, get the reader’s imagination riled up:

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered between his teeth. “I’m so dead. I’m so fucking dead.”

Why is he dead? What happened to him, what did he do? Is he a victim? Did he do something that came back to bite him in the ass?

Once you’ve caught the reader’s eye, you need to gain their trust. Their interest is piqued, but their guard is also up. Give them something to root for, something to keep the momentum going even through the slower parts.

Jonathan’s slippers squelched on wet leaves, leaving deep marks into the mud. He took them off briefly, thinking that bare feet would give him more of a fighting chance in the thick duff, but a few sharp rocks later, the slippers were back on.

We have a name. People have more trust in someone whose name they know.

We have a setting. The reader can visualize the scene a bit more, feel like part of the action.

We have questions. Why is Jonathan in the forest? Why is he wearing slippers?

And we trust him. He’s desperate and vulnerable, so he won’t trick or lie to us. We’re in control. He’s endearing because we feel bad for the poor sucker. We want to know what happened to him and how he’ll get out of the situation.

Make them comfortable

Familiarity breeds comfort.

This doesn’t mean the setting needs to be something comfortable. It doesn’t even need to be something the reader experienced first-hand.

It just needs to be something they can relate to. Something innately human that makes them let their guard down even more.

A sharp cry cracked the silence. Jonathan’s breathing quickened. Eyes bulging, he willed himself to see through the darkness, but nothing seemed out of place. Actually, everything seemed out of place. Him included.

What’s familiar here is specifically the feeling of uncertainty. The fear of being in an unfamiliar situation, of being caught with your pants down. Humanity is in the small moments as well as the grand ones. Choose whichever suits your story best.

Make them feel smart

Nothing makes a reader feel better than feeling smart when reading a story. This doesn’t mean you need to scour encyclopaedias and dump a ton of facts you barely know yourself.

It just means that you need to trust the reader to make connections by themselves.

The only way they can connect the dots instead of just imagining their own version of the story is for you to give them enough dots.

“Help!” His voice broke. “Guys, please. It’s not funny.”

A distant owl mocked the desperation in his voice with a cool hoot. Jonathan didn’t care; he was half-relieved to hear something, anything. Especially something that couldn’t kill him.

We now know that Jonathan is probably here against his will, as a kind of prank. I didn’t say that outright. I just gave the reader enough dots to figure it out themselves.

We also know he’s scared of dying and desperate to not feel alone. The reader will probably have guessed that already based on imagining themselves in Jonathan’s position. Now their guess is cemented. They feel good they guessed it correctly.

What about the owl? The owl will come in later. We need to lay some crumbs for the end of the story.

Keep it classy

The reader trusts you. They’re comfortable. They feel in power. In short, they might feel a bit cocky, and cockiness leads to superiority. If the reader feels they know the story as well as you, they’ll start jumping to conclusions. So move quick. Don’t let them have room to place their expectations onto your narrative.

Wrapping the ratty t-shirt he’d used as pajama top tighter around him, he attempted a trot but the slippers held him back. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a light flickering nearby. Maybe a flashlight? A phone. The glimmer of a camera flash.

Boom. A flash. There’s something to look forward to. But getting there is boring, the reader already knows what’s at the end. They’re not interested in scenery at this point. So you just skip it.

The flickering proved to be nothing more than the reflection of moonlight into a puddle. Then the puddle trembled with a heavy raindrop. And another one.

“Oh, for fuck’s…”

Boom. The reader feels the disappointment along with Jonathan—there wasn’t anything helpful at the end of the trek. But, unlike Jonathan, they didn’t waste the time to get to the disappointment. It was a quick slap they can tolerate.

Bonus, I didn’t mention anything about how Jonathan is feeling when he speaks. The reader knows. They’re smart, remember?

Seduce them

It all leads to this—the seduction. At least from the reader’s perspective. Thankfully, readers don’t need to see red lipstick and a dizzying pair of heels to be entranced. Seduction means dangling the promise of a good time in front of someone who believes they’re just close enough to get it: too far, and they’ll give up. Too close, it’s not worth the effort.

So write something that makes the reader feel entirely immersed in the story. Make it familiar. Approachable. A beautiful woman smiling at you from across the bar. But keep the atmosphere tense enough to drive the reader crazy with anticipation.

Jonathan leapt away from the path and into the nook between two firs. The needles pricked though his clothes, slid into the soft flesh between his fingers and toes, but at least he was dry. Somewhat. He would wait here until sunrise. It couldn’t be that long until then, he just needed to stay awake. Falling asleep meant letting his guard down. Vulnerability meant death.

The reader relates to Jonathan through the descriptions of the setting. They shiver with him. They wince when the needles pierce his skin.

He strained his eyes, forcing them open. He’d been awake for what, a couple hours? It was possible to stay awake for three, four more.

Yet even when he was trying to convince himself of it, Jonathan knew it wasn’t the full truth. He’d been awake for almost two full days before that. Two full days of coordinating flights and trains, then of hiking and keeping watch and carrying a huge backpack. His aching muscles relaxed into the mossy bark. A comfortable warmth spread from the top of his head down his back, towards his fingertips. Jonathan blinked, slowly. Then again. Then his eyelids stayed down.

The reader falls even more into the comfort of familiarity. They know what it’s like to be so tired they can’t keep their eyes open. They know where this is headed. But there’s nothing they can do to stop Jonathan from falling asleep. All they can do is watch…

Go for the kill

And that’s when you strike.

“Did he fall asleep?”

The teasing voice startled him awake. Thea’s face was so close, he could have almost kissed her if he stretched his lips. Instead, he pushed himself away and up. His hands sunk into the plush of the sofa in their rented cabin. He’d noticed earlier how soft it was. No wonder he’d drifted off.

“I had the craziest dream,” he mumbled.

Thea looked at him with a wild glint in her eyes.

The reader is taken by surprise. Their expectations were subverted. The story went into a different direction than expected.

Then, if you’re feeling particularly daring, you can do a double-whammy:

“Hoot,” she said.

“What?”

***

Jonathan woke up with a gasp, a flutter of wings sending a shower of fir needles over him. The moon shone a pale beam over his face, mocking his short-lived hope, before hiding behind a dark cloud.

Told ya the owl was coming back.

Your Assignment

Get your favourite short story. Don’t have one? Go for “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson or “Lamb to the Slaughter” by Roald Dahl. They’re easy to find online.

Go through and identify how the author took you on a ride. How did they get you to trust the main character?

How do they deliver information so subtly that you feel smart reading it? Go back to this one after you’ve finished reading the stories fully. Think what details you missed the first time around.

What sections did they skip? When did they go for the kill?

Reading an analysis of famous works is easy. Doing the work to dig this stuff up yourself is what really makes the difference.

For bonus points, write a story with the stuff you’ve learned. Nothing like practice to really preserve the trophy after the hunt.

A bite sized treat

Like we did for our first Grimoire entry, we created a little story out of the example quotes.

Want to read them all together?

Ok, fine. There you go:

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered between his teeth. “I’m so dead. I’m so fucking dead.”

Jonathan’s slippers sqelched on wet leaves, leaving deep marks into the mud. He took them off briefly, thinking that bare feet would give him more of a fighting chance in the thick duff, but a few sharp rocks later, the slippers were back on.

A sharp cry cracked the silence. Jonathan’s breathing quickened. Eyes bulging, he willed himself to see though the darkness, but nothing seemed out of place. Actually, everything seemed out of place. Him included.

“Help!” His voice broke. “Guys, please. It’s not funny.”

A distant owl mocked the desperation in his voice with a cool hoot. Jonathan didn’t care; he was half-relieved to hear something, anything. Especially something that couldn’t kill him.

Wrapping the ratty t-shirt he’d used as pajama top tighter around him, he attempted a trot but the slippers held him back. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a light flickering nearby. Maybe a flashlight? A phone. The glimmer of a camera flash.

The flickering proved to be nothing more than the reflection of moonlight into a puddle. Then the puddle trembled with a heavy raindrop. And another one.

“Oh, for fuck’s…”

Jonathan leapt away from the path and into the nook between two firs. The needles pricked though his clothes, slid into the soft flesh between his fingers and toes, but at least he was dry. Somewhat. He would wait here until sunrise. It couldn’t be that long until then, he just needed to stay awake. Falling asleep meant letting his guard down. Vulnerability meant death.

He strained his eyes, forcing them open. He’d been awake for what, a couple hours? It was possible to stay awake for three, four more. Yet even when he was trying to convince himself of it, Jonathan knew it wasn’t the full truth. He’d been awake for almost two full days before that. Two full days of coordinating flights and trains, then of hiking and keeping watch and carrying a huge backpack. His aching muscles relaxed into the mossy bark. A comfortable warmth spread from the top of his head down his back, towards his fingertips. Jonathan blinked, slowly. Then again. Then his eyelids stayed down.

***

“Did he fall asleep?”

The teasing voice startled him awake. Thea’s face was so close, he could have almost kissed her if he stretched his lips. Instead, he pushed himself away and up. His hands sunk into the plush of the sofa in their rented cabin. He’d noticed earlier how soft it was. No wonder he’d drifted off.

“I had the craziest dream,” he mumbled.

Thea looked at him with a wild glint in her eyes.

“Hoot,” she said.

“What?”

***

Jonathan woke up with a gasp, a flutter of wings sending a shower of fir needles over him. The moon shone a pale beam over his face, mocking his short-lived hope, before hiding behind a dark cloud.

The Nightingale Grimoire is a recurring series from Nightingale Press. Subscribe so you don’t miss it.

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We’re proud to introduce the first convocation of the Nightingale Book Club—a weekly event where we’ll review short stories we really freaking liked, just in time for the weekend. We’re trying to snatch readers right out of their doom-scroll, and throw them into a story we think they’ll enjoy.

That being said, our reviews will contain (most) everything you, the reader, want to know before putting something on your TBR—and that’s it.

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First on the roster, a recommendation from Nikki: It’s Not Art Until It Hangs by . Available for free on Patreon. Originally published in a collection of the same title. Published by Drek Death and Doom.

Review

Wordcount: 2700 words

Genre: Horror

Pitch: A priest who moonlights as a noose fixer has an increasingly erratic evening as his clients come and go out of his church.

What we thought of it: Not only is the narrative dark and horrifying, but the prose fully drags you into the depth. This story couldn’t be served by another author. Dylan’s style, lyrical and somber, fully sets the atmosphere and you feel like you are also in the dark church watching in morbid fascination as the ritual progresses.

Nikki’s Take: Outstanding, immersive, dark—yet controlled—prose. From word choice, all the way down to the placement of line breaks, I could tell within the first paragraph that Dylan has both talent and dedication to his craft. This is one of my top ten reads for this year. Easy.

Buy the Book: Buy on the Website

Read the story for free: Visit Dylan’s Patreon Page

Audience participation:

1. Think about the symbolism behind Virgin Mary. How do you interpret her importance in the story?

2. This story also focuses a lot on color and visual cues: amber, stained glass, multiple mentions of blue. What do you feel they represent and how would their absence affect the emotional impact of the story?

3. Have you had experiences with someone varnishing a deeper trauma with a veneer of religion? If so, how has that experience painted your interpretation of the story?

Please leave your answers below. The more people participate, the more interesting the conversation will become.

The Nightingale Book Club is a recurring series from Nightingale Press. Subscribe so you don’t miss it.

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We opened a flash fiction and poetry contest, read everything you sent us, had a few logistical hiccups that I am choosing not to elaborate on in a public forum, and came out the other side with something (a few somethings) that genuinely impressed us.

That part I will elaborate on.

The Winners

Thank you to everyone who submitted. Truly, we read some amazing stuff. The quality of submissions we received made the judging difficult (in the best way). That’s the only complaint I have.

Without further ado…

First Place: No Good Deed —

Second Place: Seaglass in the Magnolias —

Third Place: The Jacket — Ana Rotea

Congratulations to all three.

Their pieces will NOT be posted in the Wrizzit digest. They’re being published in the anthology. If you’re curious about them or want a sneak peek, tune into our Live event (more details below).

What Happens Next (The Part You’re Probably Here For)

Live Reading | May 15th

On May 15th, we’ll be doing a live reading of the winning pieces. We’ll also be hosting a Q&A during that live—if you have questions about anything Nightingale-related, that’s your window. Let us know what time frame works best for you.

Anthology Submissions Are Open

Annnnnd we’re back to work. Direct submissions for the anthology open May 15th and close June 15th.

Here’s what you need to know:

Theme: Les oiseaux du mal — An Anthology of Rot

For our inaugural anthology, Nightingale Press invites explorations of the sinister. We are looking for work that inhabits the space where morality fails. Submissions must center on themes of revenge, violence, or the various masks of evil. Whether your interpretation is psychological or visceral, we seek stories that embrace a state of total corruption, however you choose to portray it.

Word count: Under 3,500 words.

Accepted forms: Flash fiction, short fiction, and poetry—judged as a single pool.

Entry fee: Free. One story, one poem, and one piece of art per person MAX. We cannot allow more than that this go-round.

Paid feedback: $75 per story doc. Structured developmental critique from the Nightingale editorial team. This is how we fund what we do.

How to submit: Through our website ONLY.

We ask that you not submit reprints. First English translations are accepted, provided you hold the rights. Simultaneous submissions are fine. Just let us know immediately if your piece gets picked up elsewhere.

Prizes: We are still working out this detail. Obviously, you’ll get published in the anthology + a free story doc on your piece. As for pay—for transparency purposes—we’re bouncing between pay-per-word ($0.10-0.12) or a flat rate ($250). We will have an update well before submissions open—but we are author first, so your opinion matters here.

So lets hear it.

Winners in the art category will receive a flat payment. Amount TBA.

Flagship Manuscript Pitch Event | June 1st

The pitch event for our flagship manuscript is happening on June 1st. It will run as an open thread on Wrizzit—drop your pitch in the comments, pick up a reaction from the team if we’re interested, and DM your email from there.

Full details in the post linked below.

Nightingale Press News | Flagship Manuscript →

Thank you again to everyone that participated in our inaugural flash fiction and poetry competition, as well as those of you who have commented, shared, and subscribed. We wouldn’t be here without you. More soon.

—Nightingale Press

Questions? info@nightingalepublishing.press

Click below to read the previous one:

Hope you’re ready for this.

Introducing

Our final Ambassador brings a lot of class and elegance to the table. Saint-Lazare’s work might have graced your explore page or your inbox with their art-inspired flash fiction horror, collected into Tales of Artistic Horror. If that’s the case, you already know the type of writing they can craft: a literary Gothic cathedral with no wasted words, no narrative detours, groaning under the weight of the metaphors striving to crawl out.

Review

Curious about what that looks like? Let’s dive into their 1900-word story, The Symbol on the Tenth Floor.

Saint-Lazare, Writer

The Symbol on the Tenth Floor

This short story has been published by Spillwords Press, and you can read it, like it and comment here too…

Read more

10 months ago · 23 likes · 7 comments · Saint-Lazare

When he first walked through the door of my tattoo shop, my first thought was that he had been let out of an adult version of the Animaniacs Acme Labs. Think about the missing link between Pinky and The Brain if they played prog metal music to conquer the world.

Saint-Lazare’s writing style can be both bejeweled or bitingly sarcastic, but always polished and full of wit.

On the one hand, their writing style is reminiscent of a poison ring: a delicate, jewel-adorned work of art that can be admired by anyone who casts their eyes upon it. But it hides a small secret, and that secret can seep into your veins unnoticed. Only when you wake up at night, trembling and feverish, with the curse now flowing through your heart, do you realize what has happened.

On the other, it’s a metal skull ring found at skeevy second-hand store. It’s still cursed, though.

These two styles waltz in every piece. Sometimes it’s more of one, sometimes it’s almost entirely the other. Sometimes they both contribute to the same sentence. Don’t believe me?

The silk in his voice had almost an analgesic quality, but I had been around the tattoo and rock worlds for too long not to guess that the side effects included anal bleeding.

In the Symbol on the Tenth Floor, a tattoo artist specilizing in lucid-dreaming-inspired artwork gets a request for a wholly new design.

All my tattoos were based on my lucid dreams, and I had reserves for many more, if they found takers. Yet, Underlig did not want to dip into my archives, he wanted something new, just for him.

But as he travels into his hotel-inspired dreamscape, much further than he’d gone before, things are a little bit wrong.

Scratches ricocheted around me, in the ceiling and to my left. They were answered by other sounds, like a huge cube of jelly sliding against the plywood.

We encourage you to read the story yourself to find out how our tattoo-bedecked hero ends up. It’s worth the trip.

For some more of Saint-Lazare’s works, read our recommendations below.

We hope you’ve enjoyed these reviews and recommendation lists. Tomorrow you’ll finally find out the winners of the No Good Deed contest. We’re really excited to introduce them!

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Saint-Lazare’s Work

1. Dewayne Hollow, a dark fantasy universe including a role-playing game and short stories:

   Saint-Lazare, Writer

   Dewayne Hollow – Introduction

   Dear reader…

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   a year ago · 28 likes · 18 comments · Saint-Lazare and Jennifer Gori
   Saint-Lazare, Writer

   A Very Resourceful Boy

   Claude Lorrain, The Judgement of Paris. Text all rights reserved © Saint-Lazare, 2026…

   Read more

   6 months ago · 26 likes · 8 comments · Saint-Lazare

2. The Tenderness of Wild Beasts, a serialized novel of dark literary fiction with musical pairings for every chapter.

   Saint-Lazare, Writer

   The Tenderness of Wild Beasts

   Photo & Text all rights reserved © Saint-Lazare, 2025…

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   a year ago · 21 likes · Saint-Lazare

3. Or perhaps the aforementioned Tales of Artistic Horror:

   Saint-Lazare, Writer

   Anatomical Venus - Flash Fiction

   London, 1888…

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   4 months ago · 67 likes · 26 comments · Saint-Lazare

Saint-Lazare, Writer

Bone Art - Flash Fiction

In the blue hour, I faced the neoclassical facade, the city breathing its first sighs. My coffee burned my palm through the cup as I looked up at the roof, still bathed in nocturnal clouds. There stood a strange group of statues: an Anubis and a woman I could not iden…

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3 months ago · 48 likes · 16 comments · Saint-Lazare

*A note from Nikki: We have one more ambassador to review. It is entirely my fault that this person has not yet been named. They needed a little bit of time for real life stuff, and then it totally slipped my mind. So keep your eyes open for our ACTUAL last review. Sorry that I’m a mess. Thank the rest of the team for holding it down.

Click below to read the previous one:

And now, let’s get going:

Introducing

Our fourth ambassador is the one and only Spencer, who you might recognize from his visceral cosmic and body horror short stories or his ongoing poetry project Sugar of Lead, where he builds upon the altar of other authors’ corpus. When it comes to choosing a representative of an author-first press, who better than someone who takes the time to dive deep into the cloying essence of other writers’ demons and comes crawling out holding jewels in his hands?

Review

To introduce him better, let’s have a look at his story Dernière Volonté, a short and sickly sweet work of 1100 words.

Spencer’s Cult of Forbidden Horrors

Dernière Volonté

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5 months ago · 29 likes · 9 comments · Spencer D.W.

I couldn't feel the rocks under my back, the slight gust that rippled the standing water forming in craters. I couldn't feel the rain across my skin.

Spencer’s style is raw and gritty. His ideas flow like river rapids, fast and splashing unbothered over boulders, coursing as naturally as blood through veins. There is no pretense or beautifying sheen of grandeur, because Spencer’s horror comes naturally, albeit from a well beyond human comprehension.

Still, his imagery can be delicate and beautiful, reflecting the glimmers of beauty in darkness in the same way feathers dipped in motor oil might. One of the best examples of both worlds colliding is Dernière Volonté.

In Dernière Volonté, a mechanical, once-human soldier lays on the battlefield, grievously wounded and calmly analyzing his own bodily condition.

It was just what was left of my real ears straining to hear through my war sarcophagus.

As he catalogues his wounds, the turmoil surrounding him finds itself unmatched by his inner world. He is at peace with himself, albeit yearning for the humanity he was forced to abandon. And yet… he wishes he could feel connected to his long-foregone humanity once more.

The clouds swam into one another in great grey and black waves. Churning, the nest of our doom. […] I wanted to feel the rain one more time.

Because what is humanity, but the soul within the vessel? In a world so dependent on technology like ours, there is perhaps no question more important to know the answer to.

If you like what you’ve read here, we’ve linked some more of Spencer’s work below.

While we’ve finished introducing our Ambassadors, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing new to look forward to. On the 1st of May, we’re very happy to announce the talented winners of our No Good Deed contest. Keep an eye out for that!

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Spencer’s Work

1. The Sugar of Lead series (and because we’re nothing if not self-referential, we’ll recommend the ones he made for the other Nightingale Ambassadors):

   Spencer’s Cult of Forbidden Horrors

   Sugar of Lead: Asteria Geisterblum

   Read more

   5 months ago · 20 likes · 4 comments · Spencer D.W.
   Spencer’s Cult of Forbidden Horrors

   Sugar of Lead: Edward Marlo Ruiz

   Read more

   6 months ago · 30 likes · 4 comments · Spencer D.W. and Edward.Marlo.Ruiz
   Spencer’s Cult of Forbidden Horrors

   Sugar of Lead: Lila

   Read more

   6 months ago · 33 likes · 6 comments · Spencer D.W. and Lila

2. Poetry to scratch your eyes out to:

   Spencer’s Cult of Forbidden Horrors

   Horsefly bite & Plague wight.

   Read more

   3 months ago · 8 likes · 1 comment · Spencer D.W.

3. Horrifying short stories:

   Spencer’s Cult of Forbidden Horrors

   Dieu fleuri

   Read more

   a year ago · 22 likes · 9 comments · Spencer D.W.

4. Some essays where he shares valuable insight on the writing process:

   Spencer’s Cult of Forbidden Horrors

   So, You want to learn how to do the big spookies?

   Read more

   3 months ago · 18 likes · 5 comments · Spencer D.W.

We’ve been reading some of the latter lately.

The “slush pile” has changed, friends. We’re seeing more and more submissions that read constructed rather than written.

You picking up what I’m putting down?

Our process involves four sets of eyes on every piece. It does not involve the use of AI or AI detection software. My background in scripting LLM’s means I’m, unfortunately, very familiar with their various outputs and styles. If one of our curators flags a piece for AI, they send it to me for review, without the author’s name attached. The process continues from there.

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That being said, we are aware that some authors are running AI generated content through multiple indie presses at once. Small presses, lit mags, competitions with cash prizes. Getting very comfortable with the amount of editing they do (or do not do).

Publishers talk, we compare notes. This is not a secret.

Most indie presses are very limited on time and resources. Most have made their stance on publishing AI content very clear. It is incredibly disrespectful to choose to ignore that boundary. We know AI isn’t going anywhere. But neither is our stance on it.

So here’s where we are:

I would like to only make this post once: if you have something in our current queue for the flash fiction contest, and it falls into this category, pull it now. You can reach out to any member of the team. You do not need to tell us why you’re pulling it. And we won’t ask.

After this grace period, any submission deemed as AI-generated results in an immediate, permanent ban from Nightingale Press.

If something raises a question, we’ll reach out, and ask for literally anything that proves your piece was worked on by an actual person1. Writing accrues evidence of itself. If there’s none, that’s informative enough to reject on a technical gap, alone.

The 50/50 profit share exists because we think the person who wrote the book should own half of what it earns. That’s an agreement between us and a writer.

We’re still here for the work that’s genuinely yours. Send us that.

— Nightingale Press

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If you’ve been here through it all, let’s dive right into the next one!

Introducing

Lila is best known for the fragments she shares of her life: Vignettes of real experiences, glimpses into how she views the world. What stands out most about her writing is how her observations of both her own emotions as well as how other people act and interact with her bleed seamlessly into her fiction.

The stories she shares on substack are coloured with the same dexterity for the details of everyday life, taking a glimpse into the life of characters that feel like they could be the person you notice while on your bus ride to work or the next door neighbour you only ever exchange coy hellos with.

Until the end hits you with a twist you didn’t expect. Leaves you with an uneasy feeling right beneath your sternum. And a smile on your lips, because you like it either way.

Review

She recommended her story Loosong for us, which sits at around 1,200 words.

miscellanea

Loosong

Miss Lourdes Smith spent her late twenties working reception, smiling and directing and assisting to the point of agitation. She was not an overtly friendly individual, not by nature, thus the job proved straining to her; alas, she appreciated paying her bills in a timely manner. She was the sort of woman who always took the stairs if she was required i…

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5 months ago · 17 likes · 7 comments · Lila

“It was holy, and she felt herself rectified. She tried to pee small. She feared the song would cease if she flushed, and she was right.”

Loosong lets us share a day with Ms Lourdes Smith, a woman working the reception desk. A job she finds particularly straining because friendlyness does not come to her naturally. As the day proceeds, she encounters daily life’s annoyances, such as colleagues who forget her the moment they walk through the door and spilt water on her chest. Until something unusual happens. Nothing grave; nothing you’d read epic poems about. But something Ms Lourdes Smith would remember for the rest of her life none the less.

From the very beginning, the narration zooms in closely. Lila lets us not only look over Lourdes’ shoulder, but deep into her thoughts, her idiosyncracies and pedantic musings.

During her lunch break Lourdes sipped on both her water and her iced coffee (she always purchased an iced coffee to follow the regular) and smoked two cigarettes. Under normal circumstances she would only allow herself one cigarette, but as the day was leisurely she felt herself in need of the stimulation.

Lila never shies away from phrasing even the most private moments, shedding light on something we’d usually deem unimportant. Until it tells us intimate details about the person we’re reading.

The restroom smelled of flushed excrement. Lourdes wrinkled her nose as she slipped into a stall she supposed was furthest from the stench. She’d always hated public toilets, more so than most, she believed.

The story takes a sudden turn at the end, first taking on speed and then leaving us with a reveal that turns a simple encounter on the loo into something memorable, perhaps even magical.

Lila’s prose perfectly befits Lourdes’ pedantic nature, poignant mostly with bloomy exceptions where they are needed. She’s doing some beautiful foreshadowing, hovering somewhere in the margins while we read, to hit the spot when we get the reveal at the end. A story crafted with a loving attention to detail and the magic in the mundane.

If you like what you’ve read here, we’ve linked some more of Lila’s work below.

The next and final installment of the ambassador introductions will be up in four days. Look forward to meeting Spencer D. W.!

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Lila’s Work

1. Her latest diary entry

   miscellanea

   april 20th

   if i’m too dumb i get insulted, typically in a “safe” manner. yesterday i asked a question and my question was immediately called dumb. if i argue i hear it over and over and over again, which i did. if i stick up for myself and try to end the conversation, i get called a bitch, which is what happened this morning. “you’re just being a bitch right now…

   Read more

   3 months ago · 9 likes · 2 comments · Lila

2. If you’re up for more of her fiction, you may enjoy her Auré excerpts, fragments of a continuous story surrounding Auré.

   miscellanea

   The Fillières Library

   It was a short while before Auré’s fall when he first tried to read that strange book. Etienne remembered it well, how something seemed to come upon Auré, how he tried to explain what he could not comprehend. It happened during a dinner hosted by Etienne’s parents, during the late evening portion where wine was plentiful and young heirs were forgotten, …

   Read more

   6 months ago · 14 likes · 9 comments · Lila

3. She also writes haunting poetry.

   miscellanea

   Leman,

   keep your distance, I am a rotting thing. Was it not you? Could we sit at the table and discuss how to split the blame? I make more than you now, of this I’m sure, so I could cover the most. But then the anger, and all of those strange things that undid me. Reduced to a pawn I listened for those steady hooves but they never arrived. You never called for…

   Read more

   8 months ago · 19 likes · 3 comments · Lila

In today’s installment, we’re going to look at the next in line.

Introducing

Asteria is a tough act to follow, but we think Edward can Rise to the challenge without a problem. You might know him from the paragraphs he writes: literary bites of the human experience, whether about grief, bedlam, solitude, or on a more positive note, dogs.

Or, more visually, from the collages he makes. Collages are, in essence, a collaboration between the one who compiles all the images and those who have created them in the first place. What could be a more beautiful metaphor for writing, when writers collect the interesting pieces of life around them (experiences with others, ideas in books they read) and assemble them in something not only new, but uniquely theirs?

Review

The story we wanted to review for Edward is Rise, a poem of 250 words.

PineBox Readings

Rise:

Look at what I have become…

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a year ago · 37 likes · 15 comments · Edward.Marlo.Ruiz

“Look at what I have become.”

Edward lays at the intersection of what English teachers want to teach and what students genuinely want to read in their free time: experimental expression, be it in words or images, a deep exploration of both the constraints of the medium at hand and of the human condition alike.

Perhaps what you’re reading is a stream-of-consciousness meditation on idolatry, a symphony of quick factual information interspersed with longer moments of reflection.

Perhaps it is a story of a lonely man trying to maximize his dating efficiency via AI. A beautifully written story, with no excess words.

Or perhaps it’s a collection of micro poems that make your insides fester with their uncomfortable imagery.

Rise is not a poem to be described accurately. It’s something to be experienced first-hand.

It’s a poem about a once-human creature yearning once more to feel the bittersweet tingle of humanity, to feel alive.

Its skin was shed like a sea crabs shell.

Remaining was nothing but bleached bone and long voids.

The creature, grotesque in a landscape of absolute beauty, unfeeling in a world bursting with emotions, tries to acclimate.

Its senses were lost, but the flower glowed with a tender fury.

Then it sees a woman. She’s alive, unlike the creature. They couldn’t be more different. But they both collect the fragments of beauty around them, the lavander tulips that brighten the scenery. And what is love, but finding that what truly unites two people are their innermost desires, rest of superficial details be damned?

With its own bundle and a single dark brown eyeball emerging from its right eye socket. It tapped her gently and whispered, “Do you see me?”

With a smile she whispered back, “Yes.”

Because this is a story of a romance so celestial, even the stars are rooting for it. Even when it’s not meant to be.

It emerged as bone, no sinew. It could be crushed under its own weight if not for the threads of the stars that hold it up like a dancing puppet.

Inspiration

When asked about his inspiration, Edward shared a deeply personal story:

If you like what you’ve read here, we’ve linked some more of Edward’s work below.

The next installment of the ambassador introductions will be up in four days. Look forward to meeting Lila!

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Edward’s Work

1. Paragraphs, micro fiction about aspects of human experience.

   Paragraph on Grief

   Paragraph on Time

   Paragraph on Dogs

2. Perhaps short stories are more your style?

   PineBox Readings

   Raven Feathers and Wide Hands:

   (Special thanks to Asteria Geisterblum for the title…

   Read more

   a year ago · 31 likes · 17 comments · Edward.Marlo.Ruiz

3. If you’re busy but curious, may we interest you in some microfiction?

   PineBox Readings

   October Honey:

   As the chill begins to nip at your fingers and toes. As the leaves wither out into their dying yellows and burgundy’s. My own vibrant hues return. The ball and chain of life comes undone as the signals of autumn begin to manifest her between my thoughts…

   Read more

   a year ago · 27 likes · 5 comments · Edward.Marlo.Ruiz

4. Or some poems full of grit and somehow still smooth?

   PineBox Readings

   PineBox Gospel (I):

   (Below is a set of four ‘poems’ I put out on notes. I’ve come to love them. Directly inspired from my time digesting Spencer D.W. Edited once…

   Read more

   a year ago · 23 likes · 1 comment · Edward.Marlo.Ruiz
   PineBox Readings

   A POEM | Creep...

   I want to... rub my slick fingers across your shaded face. Examine its ridges/Smooth over its rough surfaces. Outline your eyes/Hold onto your nose. While you breathe... into me—hffffh—keen. Sweep the nomadic strands/Straying from the nest. Tug and yank/Loop and pull. Inhale the odor... the fetor of melting matter. Grasp for the vigor/Watch it go pop. Caress the edges of your neck/Down then back—again. I want…

   Read more

   9 months ago · 33 likes · 7 comments · Edward.Marlo.Ruiz

If you happen to be unfamiliar with their work, don’t fret: we’ll introduce them properly in this four-part series of Introductions leading up to the winner announcement of our Flash Fiction Contest (this may or may not be a ruse to distract the nervous participants from the final countdown).

Introducing

First in the lineup is Asteria, who you might be familiar with from her cozy urban fantasy The 4:44 series, about a liminal magic shop that appears in unexpected and improbable places at exactly 4:44 a.m. every day. While most of this serial has been pulled from Substack (she’s currently editing it to publish it as a book), Asteria still has a wonderful library of imaginative short stories up on her publication, as well as her new serial The Unreliable Map Society for you to dig your teeth into.

Review

Today, we’ll talk about her short story Spillmannsgasser that sits at around 2500 words.

Quiet Little Journeys

Spillmannsgasser

Content Directory…

Read more

5 months ago · 11 likes · 4 comments · Asteria Geisterblum

“A Spillmannsgasser is born twice.

The first birth is quick and red and loud.

The second is death.”

Asteria has a highly visual style, and the images she paints with her words are reminiscent of impressionistic artworks, but they’re so much more than that. The delightful little details are enchanting, sure, but they hide secrets eager to jump out for those curious enough to know where to look.

Light glints off a set of delicate mother-of-pearl button. In a small town, one particular street has vibrant, picturesque houses. Coils of ivy wrap around brickwork.

But the buttons take on a life of their own. The houses hide people who are just a little off. And the doorway you thought you could spot behind the ivy is no longer there.

Spillmannsgasser is exactly like this. What makes the story memorable is the unnerving feeling of a painfully beautiful place that is strange, off in a way that’s not outright dangerous but leaves one on edge regardless.

The reader is introduced to a beautiful town, with an especially charming street that stands out. Despite its undeniable beauty, people are wary of not only the residents, but seemingly of the street itself. Even attempting to cross it is a challenge:

Apprentices often dared each other to run its length at midnight and come back with a purchase: a few sugar fruits, a glass fish with real silver scales, anything for proof.

In this strange place, a child is born: our narrator. The innocence of this child, who, despite dying, still survives (because a Spillmannsgasser is born twice, and the second birth is death), reflects what we all think: what makes this street, Spielmannsgasse, so frightening? What attributes does it possess that make it so enchanting and so frightening?

Spielmannsgasse was warmth and colour and the clatter of bells. [...] Beyond the curve, the rest of the town seemed dead by comparison.

Because something is wrong indeed. When sent to deliver a plate of food to the mourning portrait painter, we see, through the eyes of the narrator, what everyone in town is afraid of:

It wasn’t that she looked sick but… wrong. Empty of the street. Her features had fallen apart from one another, as though what had held them in place had been taken away.

Telling you more would spoil the story, and we wouldn’t want to take away the opportunity to read it first.

Inspiration

Asteria was kind enough to share the inspiration behind the story with us:

Asteria then recounts her favourite fragment of the memory, when her grandparents bought her a little knitting doll (a Strickliesel in German) after one of these visits.

Perhaps we’re due a story about a fiery knitting doll?

If you like what you’ve read here, we’ve linked some more of Asteria’s work below.

The next installment of the ambassador introductions will be up in four days. Look forward to meeting Edward.Marlo.Ruiz!

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Support us

Asteria’s Work

1. The first chapter of The 4:44 Series

Quiet Little Journeys

some doors, once opened, cannot be closed

This is the first chapter of the 4:44 series’ first draft…

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a year ago · 99 likes · 74 comments · Asteria Geisterblum

2. The Unreliable Map Society, a low fantasy series about a witch who can create a flower able to fulfill one’s innermost desires, and the titular Unreliable Map Society, a shadowy organization that guides those who have gone astray.

Quiet Little Journeys

The Unreliable Map Society - Index

Being busy editing the first draft of the 4:44 series doesn’t stop me from going on yet another adventure…

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7 months ago · 24 likes · 15 comments · Asteria Geisterblum

3. Some of Asteria’s haunting short stories:

Quiet Little Journeys

The Bellmaker

The trick to a good bell is not just in the hanging, though you’d be surprised how many forget that…

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a year ago · 69 likes · 19 comments · Asteria Geisterblum

Quiet Little Journeys

The Dog Who Saw the Sea

Cold light buzzed overhead like flies that couldn’t land. His bowl was half full of stale kibble, swollen and soft from the water drip that no one fixed. He didn’t eat it. Not anymore. Hunger had become background noise…

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a year ago · 61 likes · 63 comments · Asteria Geisterblum

4. Prefer to have something physical? Asteria has a collection of her short stories available in her book Everyone vanishes Eventually up for purchase. It is a magnificent little book full with some of her best stories and lovely illustrations.

Quiet Little Journeys

Everyone Vanishes Eventually

My short story collection has been out in the world since October 24, 2025, and it’s been such a joy (and a little surreal) knowing it’s already found its way onto readers’ shelves…

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6 months ago · 23 likes · 9 comments · Asteria Geisterblum

Well. Strap in.

We’ve been pretty upfront about the fact that we’re not a traditional press. So it shouldn’t surprise you that we’re also not doing a traditional submissions process.

Instead, we’re hosting a pitch event.

You know what that means—no custom query letter. No comp titles if you can’t think of any. No synopsis written to a specific word count. No box to fit yourself into1.

The pitch event won’t be until after the No Good Deed flash fiction contest closes on April 10th.

While we really wanted to open submissions today, there’s no point if manuscripts are going to sit in a box, unread, for an unknown amount of time (look at you, trad-pub). This gives us time, focus, and energy to make sure everything we do is done right. We’re not interested in doing too much at once (and, in turn, doing all of them badly).

How it works

When our manuscript pitch event goes live on Wrizzit on June 1st, you drop your pitch in the comments. The only rule: Dark fiction only—any genre, any subgenre, any flavor. If it makes someone uncomfortable, we’re probably interested. Write as much or as little as you want about your story. Or just drop the title and dip, because you’re a cocky little shit (honestly, good for you).

Each member of the Nightingale team will have a set number of pitches they can react to. If someone on the team likes what they see, they’ll react to your comment. If one of us reacts to your comment, DM your email address. You’ll hear from us with a request for your first three chapters, along with additional information about your manuscript.

That’s really it.

Unlike most publishers, we don’t want to take up too much of your time unless there’s serious interest in your work. The pitch event is how we keep it mutual.

If your pitch doesn’t receive a reaction from us, don’t sweat it. Transparency is key, so—we plan to be incredibly picky with our flagship.

There will be plenty of opportunities to submit in the fall. We promise. That’s part of why we’re not asking you to put together a full file on yourself for the pitch event; I personally hate putting a bunch of work in, just to get a form reply.

What Happens After

The thread stays live for 48 hours. Once it closes and we’ve collected first chapters, the team sits down and talks through each of our picks. We’ll be judging the flash fiction contest around the same time, so we won’t have a hard timeline for when we’ll reach out again. But we’re aiming to have our flagship manuscript picked up by the beginning of June.

More details on the exact date coming soon. Subscribe so you don’t miss it—and if you haven’t already, consider submitting to No Good Deed first. It’s a good way to see how we work before you hand us something you’ve poured your whole soul into.

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Questions? info@nightingalepublishing.press