In November last year, I entered the Terry Hetherington Young Writers Award. Whilst I didn’t win, I’m pleased to say that my short story, Flood Pain, scored highly enough to make it into the prize’s anthology, Cheval 12.
I’m chuffed (understatement). This is the first time I’ll be published as an adult, and I think I’ll be in some very good company.
I haven’t read the winning entries yet, but if previous years’ are any indication, they’re excellent. Congratulations to Eleanor Howe, whose poetry won over all, and Nathan Munday and Cynan Llwyd who won runner up prizes for poetry and fiction, respectively. There’s more info about the prize and the winners, here.
The anthology launches on the 31st May 2019.
Normally I crawl out of bed at about six, six-thirty, sloughing grave dirt and groaning. I hate waking up. I hate getting out of bed. I hate rushing around the morning trying to get ready for work.
This morning I bounded out of bed at five o’clock. It’s been years since I’ve seen five o’clock when the sun is rising, not setting. Continue reading “A Reason to Get Out of Bed”
I loved my week at Ty Newydd. I’m struggling to pin down exactly what about it I loved. It might have been finally being able to spend a week devoted to something I love and nothing else, like meeting in person for a week after years of a long distance relationship, snatching smiles and kisses whenever you can. Maybe it was spending a week with kind, thoughtful peers whose enthusiasm was infectious, and among whom I have to hope there are new friends. Perhaps it was just the food, sunshine and beautiful surroundings. Perhaps a combination of all of them; I don’t think it would have been the same with any of it missing.
Continue reading “Digesting a Week of Writing”
I’m at the Emerging Writers course at the Ty Newydd Writer’s Centre in Gwynedd this week. Expect a write up (perhaps a little delayed) of each day, to let people know what it’s like.
Monday I drove to Ty Newydd, up through the valley, past the open cast mine in Merthyr, into the rolling roads of the Brecon Beacons—I stopped for lunch at the mountain centre—and in the blazing sun, on up to the Elan valley. As I hit the road sign for Gwynedd, I saw the country change, becoming more muscular as the rounded Beacons became mountainous in Snowdonia, and tickled the underbellies of the low, low clouds. Continue reading “A Week at Ty Newydd: Monday”
I usually hate Sundays. They’re glum end stops that mark a potentially monotonous metre; the passing of weeks, made all the more blue if you’re not in love with your daily nine to five.
This Sunday has been a good one, though. I’ve been writing a lot lately, necessitated by the assignment deadline that’s bearing down on me. I hammered out 2,000 words on the first draft of a 17th century tragedy with some fantasy stuff thrown in, which will also be what I’m submitting for my assignment, or at least part of it, anyway. Continue reading “Sunday Blues, Atmospheric Photos and Space-flight Inspiration”