Hey!

 

Just a little kiss?

 

Come back!

 

Alas.

 

It was ever thus. Thank goodness I have Elly.

 

Anyway… ahem. Less being Morrissey, more mid-month newsletter. As promised we have the big, joyous and very special announcement of the winner of our inaugural short story competition to announce. And that winner is: Backburn by Ríona Judge McCormack.

 

The first thing to say is that this story was up against serious competition. Every story on our shortlist was a serious contender – and I’d recommend all of them to anyone, without reservation.

 

But for now, let’s focus on Ríona. One of the great things about this story is that – as far as we’re concerned – it’s come from nowhere.  And also that it isn’t just a fine work of art in and of itself, it’s the announcement of a new talent. Ríona is a writer who can immerse you in a scene; she allows you to walk side-by-side with her characters, helps you enter their thoughts, she makes you feel their world... Her writing is vivid, sharp and particular. It is evocative, it's real – and it packs a correspondingly heavy punch. It’s a lesson in controlled anger, rage set on simmer and, as the title suggests, fire.

 

Yet, while Backburn is a wonderful story, the really exciting thing is what happens next. It’s a delight to be here, at the beginning of a career. One we hope and assume will be exciting and prize-packed.

 

Meanwhile, talking of great stories, we’ve also got a new one up in the Singles Club. This is Time Is A River Without Banks by Lucy Durneen. The fine thing about this one is that it’s every bit as good – and strangely sad – as its title suggests. Jump in! (Singles Club subscribers, I'll send you this one later in the week. I'm happy to say so many people read this particular letter that mailchimp have set a limit on the number I can send out in a day. At least, I think that's the reason....)

 

Finally, I was planning to tell you about Jeff Bezos’ Valentine’s Day, but there are just too many corpses in the story.  It’s a sunny day, and no one needs that much putrescence. No one needs to know what Jeff lards onto his sandwiches… Not until the court case, anyway.

 

Fondly!

 

Sam