Announcement: We're Hitting Pause

So, a bit of news.

As many know, I've been struggling on the job market for months now. I rushed completion of a PhD program so I'd finish this year due to mounting financial stress and have been finishing exams and a dissertation while looking for jobs. Right now, I'm still without employment as I look at August and the end of my PhD.

When I started Jellyfish Highway Press, all I desired was to work to make stellar books with amazing authors. We have done that. I can't fathom writing or being a writer without working in some way to promote and support others' writing. There is a lot of talk often about literary citizenry, and whatever that entails or means, it has always been important to me to serve and give back in some way. That's why I launched Sundog Lit and Cartridge Lit. That's why I started JHP. This past year, though, has made all of this extremely difficult and stressful. I have not been able to pour my heart into publishing projects. The most important thing is that these books I want to publish deserve my full attention and love and heart and fire. And, they're not getting that right now. I want these books to be read and loved and talked about and shared, and with this moment of transition and chaotic upheaval, I'm simply neglecting what I most love to do.

So, with that, JHP is going on hiatus for a bit. Hitting pause. Taking a breather. While I try to figure out where my life is headed and what's next (where to live, what to do, how to make it), I need to put things on hold. This doesn't mean that we're shutting down—it only means that we'll be holding things off on production for a while until I find a place to rest my head. I'll be searching for a managing editor soon to bring life back into this thing. We'll keep on. We'll be back.

I love publishing books. All I want to do is support authors and work with them to create beautiful books. I just need a moment.

—Justin Daugherty, Publisher, July 2017

Announcing 2 New JHP Titles by Jarod Roselló and Dana Diehl!

We are so thrilled to finally announce our next two titles, coming in Summer 2016. 

Jarod Roselló's How We Endure is an illustrated novella. It is about haunting, but is not a haunting; about ghosts, but is not a ghost story. Check out Jarod's new book from Publishing Genius, The Well-Dressed Bear Will (Never) Be Found

Dana Diehl's collection of short stories, [title forthcoming], is loss and longing, is magic and what's beyond what we can see. Girls prepare for an oncoming apocalypse, a man makes snakes fall in love, a boyfriend believes in healing stones, and each story breathes into existence a new, magical world. 

We are so thrilled to announce these titles, and look forward to a stellar year of books in 2016. 

Excerpts from The Farmacist

Little Bo Peep Comes to Farm Town

It’s God’s day, but I wear thigh highs beneath my Bible. Maybe that’s why He took my flock. My lambkin lost, I feel forsaken. I witness crooks and necks that crane toward this skirt impractical for tending sheep or even nailing up Have You Seen Me? posters. My heart bled once when the livestock lost their tails. Again when I looked out at the hills thinking that they missed me. (That night, I’d find their woolly nubs nailed to a tree.) I’m a girl on the go, owning nothing now, owing on this ridiculous get-up. What good is pretty, petty unemcumberence when you have no reason to be? I find a shitty dive with Photohunt a buck a game. It’s afternoon. In the dark I drink drafts and play addition or subtraction of body parts and black straps and wisps of hair on naked women. I’m foolish, but not so easily fooled: in one photo she’s whole, in the other incomplete.

The Wolf

Disguised as a lover, he was all clover. Dressed as a December hunter: a genuine risk. He waited me out in the snowy hedge. I said, Go home, predator, but he became a compulsive visitor. Knock knock, he called with his teeth. Knock knock, he called without knocking at all. He said, I saw those large snow patches and thought you’d need help melting them. I battened the hatches, eyed him through discount curtains. Beneath the moonlight, he poached field eggs, stripped wild grass, drained the milk keg, dismembered the rabbit hutch. He knotted the hose through the branches like sin. The mailbox spilled quills, spit fur at visitors. The Wolf shammed an exit but recurred while I dreamed of cartoon buzzsaws, of rolling pin pursuits, of tarring and feathering him. I discovered fire. You’ll like it, he hissed. But spring made good and caused the ice to crack. The Wolf tumbled toward the big sea coast. He floated out into summer because his mama never taught him manners and he never learned to swim. Autumn now. I still feel fangs through the door: Just this once, he asks without asking at all.


You can purchase The Farmacist now! Buy it here, here, or here

Ashley Farmer is the author of  Farm Town (Rust Belt Bindery, 2012) and Beside Myself (PANK/Tiny Hardcore Press, 2014). She lives in Louisville, KY.

Ashley Farmer is the author of  Farm Town (Rust Belt Bindery, 2012) and Beside Myself (PANK/Tiny Hardcore Press, 2014). She lives in Louisville, KY.