Previous Adjudicators’ Reports

 2001: Nick Fletcher

Many might consider the short story to be a rather gentle first step into the world of writing, a route that isn’t too challenging, a safe step along the road to that great novel within us all. In fact, writing a good short story is a very tough assignment.

In a novel, you have all the words you need. The short story sets tight boundaries, forces the writer to put on the strait-jacket of precision. To pack plot, pace, character and dialogue into a five-minute read that will engage and entertain is in some respects more daunting than writing the great novel!

The entertainment factor is what I seek in a short story, and I need a big hook-in, right at the start. If a story doesn’t grab you by the lapels in the first paragraph, then the reader isn’t going to bother to stick with it. It therefore doesn’t matter if a story is worthy world-shaking, brilliant or breath-taking by its conclusion. Readers will never know. They quit early on. They never get to that superbly-crafted ending.

An entertaining story doesn’t necessarily have to be dramatic or action-packed. It can hook in a reader merely by being intriguing. But whatever the start-route, I believe that above all else, a writer has to make the reader really care what happens! For without this vital element, other important ingredients such as pure descriptive power, fine character-definition and crisp dialogue cannot jell satisfactorily, cannot combine to ensure the reader stays to the end.

Too many short story writers overlook this, and opt for carefully-crafted openings which meld words nicely, but actually say nothing that will propel the reader into the story. In my view, too many writers choose plots which are over-introspective, too earnest, too worthy… and thus too dull. There are also far too many tales dealing with aspects of unhappy childhood, getting old or facing death. When, as an adjudicator, you have read umpteen on these themes, you crave something really different, something quirky, bizarre, even shocking!

You just long to be entertained.

Nick Fletcher, March 2002

 2002: Margaret Manuell

The short story is a very particular form of writing. At its best, it has the attributes of poetry or visual art. It has a pleasing form and communicates to the reader the writer’s responses to the narrative s/he tells and the characters s/he describes. Its imagery conjures up pictures, sounds, smells; we touch and taste with the writer’s senses; we share with her/him the unfolding experiences and emotions.

Most stories have something of interest to communicate or they would not be told. In judging these competition entries I have been looking for those which stand out from the general: narrative that is structurally or stylistically arresting; persuasive imagery; musical cadence; and, above all, the successful communication of the writer’s vision, perception and mood to me, the reader.

It is the combination of these attributes which mark out the best stories in this competition, and those I have chosen have some, or, in the case of the winner, all of them. They are also compelling and vibrant with suppressed energy. Like the Ancient Mariner, the writer’s have a desire, a need, a compulsion, almost, to unburden themselves of their stories; to grab hold of us, to stop us in our tracks; to say, ‘Wait. Stop what you are doing and listen to this’. You notice I say ‘Listen to this’ not ‘Read this’, because the writer of a successful short story speaks to us in a unique and distinctive voice.

© Margaret Manuell 2003

 2003: Iain Pattison

It’s a cliché for competition judges to declare “the standard was so high that I had trouble choosing a winner” – it’s normally a cop-out for an adjudicator scared to upset any of the writers who entered. But I’m delighted to say that the standard here really was that high. So high, in fact, that it took serious heart-searching for me to reject some of these super stories.

There wasn’t a lacklustre or boring tale amongst them. All had something unusual or poignant or clever to say. All deserved their place in the short-listed pile.  Each was entertaining, all had compelling storylines, attention-grabbing openings, wonderful atmosphere, believable characters and slick, smooth, punchy dialogue. If only all competition entries were like this!   

So how did I make my decision? It’s another judge’s cliché to say “I was looking for that indefatigable ‘X factor’ that can’t be described” – but I won’t spin you that line. I knew exactly what I was looking for – stories with unpredictable endings and a huge emotional punch. I wanted yarns that surprised me, deceptive stories that strayed from the usual narrative path, destroying my preconceptions and making me think “I didn’t see that coming.”

I also wanted dramas that moved me – that made me care. The winners all featured central characters who felt, who responded, to the predicament they were. Whether it was anger, pain, sorrow or despair, each tale sizzled with emotion. It was impossible not to feel empathy for the people’s whose lives we were witnessing. Powerful stuff – and compelling reading.

Iain Pattison  

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