Hi.  My name is Greg Bossert.  I write Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror under my full name, Gregory Norman Bossert, and I have been fortunate enough to have sold a few stories, one of which won the World Fantasy Award.   Here’s more about me.  Then again, maybe you are looking for more information on the fantastic artwork.

I am delighted to find The Night Soil Salvagers on the 2020 Locus Recommended Reading List, alongside work from a stack of favorite writers.
I also saw this note on Twitter:

At #Boskone, Vincent Docherty @vjdocherty
did manage to scoop the Hugo recs with the most sublime strange-fiction short story title, by World Fantasy Award winner Gregory Norman Bossert @gregbossert
: The Night Soil Salvagers.


I somehow entirely missed that my story “The Night Soil Salvagers” is included in this collection of “Some of the Best from Tor.com 2020”, alongside work from some amazing authors. Out now from all your favorite e-book sites for the low low price of FREE.

Details here!

Unlike everything else in 2020, my writing went pretty well this year, with four new stories published—all firmly in the Weird and all at new markets—one already sold for next year, four reprints, and art for a book cover. Two more stories finished this year are sitting on editors’ desks. Links to buy or read these, and everything else I’ve published, are available on my bibliography page.

NEW:
“The Hearts of All” in Black Static #73
“Dear Boy” in Weird Fiction Review #10
“The Damsel of Desire” in Forbidden Futures #7
“The Night Soil Salvagers” at Tor . com
“The Prisoner’s Cinema” upcoming in 2021 in Asimov’s

REPRINTS:
“The Empyrean Light” in The Year’s Best Dark Fantasy & Horror 2019
“HigherWorks” in Weird Dream Society (also the cover art!)
“The Telling” (trans. Chinese) in Science Fiction World
HigherWorks” upcoming in 2021 in Forever Magazine

…And over a dozen WIPs, including a couple of screenplays and a few novel ideas. There have been some setbacks as well: a story collection opportunity fell through, and I’ve found it difficult to write through the last third of the year due to the distractions of the world at large. Here’s to the last week of 2020, and to the year to come.

I’m doing another live stream reading of one of my short stories for Story Hour 2020 at 7pm Wednesday December 16.  It’ll be available via Zoom or Facebook Live.  Details here:
https://www.storyhour2020.com

I am delighted to announce that the wonderful Sheila Williams has bought my novelette “The Prisoner’s Cinema” for Asimov’s Science Fiction magazine. This makes my ninth sale to that venerable publication. Here’s a small taste:

“What’d they nab you for, see? Max said in an attempt at a gangster drawl.  “You know, Madame X was betting on you being Bangus Shi.  I mean, not you, but the new arriv—”

He was cut off by a new set of claxons.  Nhe’eng lifted her chin toward the closest monitor. The livestream had cut to a camera on the outside of the station, a view from the Control module along the central tether to their own Studio module in the distance, the two modules like tin cans twirling on either end of the tether’s string with the Earth and stars slowly spinning past.  The commentators were babbling something about an imminent impact. 

“Ah, well, about that,” Leonora said.

Something small and bright flashed into frame on the monitors, belched a cloud of exhaust, slowed to a stop against the side of the Studio module.   They heard a gentle thud from the hull somewhere off to the Sasquatch’s left, and then a mechanical rattle.  On the monitor, the mysterious something unfolded to release a swarm of smaller objects, which spread along the side of the station and popped in clouds of color, a sizzle of sound audible through the hull, hints of pattern in the shifting sun.  The camera zoomed in, searched shakily for the object, zoomed back out to reveal a painting that stretched halfway across the Station module:  A multi-colored cartoon skull with a silver smile, a lit fuse curling from its round head, and bright bold letters underneath that read, “And introducing Bangus Shi!”  

They heard a second deep thud, and on the monitor a little cloud of glittering confetti rose and slowly drifted outward into its own orbit.

Leonora turned to them with a wide smile, and shrugged.  Max gave a low whistle.  Nhe’eng tilted her head.  Madame X lifted her finger.  The Sasquatch cracked his callous-crusted knuckles and stepped forward.

My story “The Night Soil Salvagers” is out today on tor.com—a Weird tale of nocturnes and renewal. Or buy an e-book version for just $0.99—link in the comments. Many thanks (as always) to my wonderful wonderful editor Ann VanderMeer, to Red Nose Studio for the gorgeous cover art, and to everyone at Tor!
Read it for free online here, or buy an e-book for just $0.99 here!

A lovely review by Des Lewis of my story The Hearts of All from Black Static #73. Follow the link for more.

This is an amazing piece that is still working hard on me as I write this […] A fine visionary panoply of words. Our only hope, such poetry.

I am delighted that my story The Telling, which won the 2013 World Fantasy Award for Best Short Story, will appear in a Mandarin Chinese translation in the June issue of Science Fiction World. This is, as far as I know, the first translation of any of my work in Chinese.

My story The Hearts of All is out Black Static #73 from TTA Press, along with stories from Keith Rosson, Maria Haskins, and Jack Westlake. The issue is, as always, beautifully illustrated and filled with great non-fiction as well.

Here’s a sample of The Hearts of All:

It was only after the horse had turned that they saw that it was still on fire.  A rim of thin blue flame outlined the patch where the skin had burned away, from flank to jaw.  A tendon in its neck quivered like a plucked string, shockingly white against the blackened flesh.

Fallow clenched his fingers in his beard, and tried not to think of the candle’s flame gone that same blue against the spoon.

The horse’s head trembled, every muscle in its jaw ridged as if carved by a dull tool, but its eye was steady on them.

The Realtor raised her phone again, as if it were a gun, as if a report could evict the horse from this misery.

Fallow said, “He must be wicked to deserve such pain.”

My story Dear Boy is out now in Weird Fiction Review #10 edited by John Pelan and published by Centipede Press. It’s an absolutely beautiful volume, 392 pages, filled with color illustrations, with fiction by D. P. Watt, Anna Tambour, Richard Gavin, Marc Laidlaw, Gemma Files and others, and a slew of non-fiction articles including a history of Mexican horror comics by Silva Moreno-Garcia. On sale now for a great price.

Here’s a sample from Dear Boy:

Ernst Vul struggled to explain how he could be so haunted by a story that he barely remembered.  He could not even recall when he had read it; decades ago at the very least.  Had he been in school?  Would the school library have carried a work so unsettling, one set so deeply in the grotesque?

It might have been a comic, one of those rare prizes plucked from an old sibling and passed from seat to seat while the teacher’s back was turned, or read by flickering light under bedcovers.  The images in Ernst’s head, as torn and faded as they were, were certainly vivid enough: a cast of intricately depicted deformities; perspectives of unsettling angles, as if the viewer had suffered some dreadful dislocation; the colors, the lurid, unnatural colors, nothing like the bright primary colors of the art class, as if refracted from some other light, distilled from pigments of some obscure and esoteric source.  

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