Join us at the inspirational Landmark Trust property, The Threshing Barn, Llwyn Celyn for an exciting event delving into the world of crime fiction and narrative.
Whether you’re a seasoned writer or a curious reader, this event is perfect for anyone interested in the art of crafting compelling crime stories. Learn from author and lecturer in Creative Writing at Swansea University, Dr Alan Bilton, and join The Hay Writers’ Circle to immerse yourself in the thrilling world of mysteries and suspense. Don’t miss out on this opportunity to explore the secrets behind plotting the perfect crime!
This workshop is open for anyone to attend but pre-booking is essential.
Dr Alan Bilton teaches Creative Writing, Literature and Film at Swansea University. He is the author of three novels, The Sleepwalkers’ Ball (2009), The Known and Unknown Sea (2014) and The End of The Yellow House (2020), as well as a collection of short stories, Anywhere Out of the World (2016), and books on silent film, American fiction, and the 1920s. He was a jury member for the Dylan Thomas International Prize in 2022, and has appeared at the Hay, Edinburgh and Cheltenham Literary Festivals.
We are excited to announce the results of our 2024 Frances Copping Memorial Prize for Fiction Competition, named in fond remembrance of our Lifetime President who sadly passed away in 2020.
This popular competition again received a good number of entries from both inside and outside Hay Writers’ Circle and we very much welcome external interest in all our writing competitions.
Frances CoppingDr. Carolyn Lewis
Our judge this year was the Dr Carolyn Lewis. She commented that, “Overall, the stories surprised me in terms of the bleakness of the characters’ lives – there were dead bodies all around and the stories offered little in the way of joy or redemption. Whilst I’m no Mary Poppins, I wanted to read something that lifted me, albeit for a short while... However, on a brighter note, the plotting in many of the stories was well handled, innovative and thought provoking and a lot of the characters will stay with me for a long time.”
We are extremely grateful to Carolyn for all her work judging this competition, including the written comments she made for the prize winners – going forward, such useful comments can hone writing skills for the future.
Without further delay, here are the results!
1st Place: ‘Don’t Panic’ by Helen Smith
2nd Place: ‘Empty Seat’ by Mark Bayliss
3rd Place: ‘Small Comforts’ by Lily Rose King
Judge’s Comments:
1st. Place – “Don’t Panic – this is exceptionally well written. the writing is stripped back and the narrator’s voice is handled well. The writing flows, indeed there were no flat spots at all. The narrator’s anguish is handled well and the descriptions are evocative.“
2nd Place – “Empty Seat – this is an intriguing story with an unusual narrator. The descriptive passages work well and I found the writing visual and engaging.“
3rd Place – “Small Comforts – the narrator, Layla, is well written and the reader understands her distress and the turmoil she has endured. Her loneliness and her solitary life are handled well.“
Our 2024 winners :
Helen SmithMark BaylissLily Rose King – Photo Credit Billy Charity/Hay Festival
“Well done to all the entrants, writing for a short competition is no easy thing so they’re all to be congratulated.” Dr Carolyn Lewis
The 2024 Frances Copping Fiction Competition Winner by Helen Smith
don’t panic
We’re in the parking lot; Jenkintown Whole Foods, Philadelphia. I’m in your car. It’s locked, the keys that now swing from my hand wrestled unwilling from your slender fingers, shoppers pausing to glance, to frown. Hurrying on by. Steering their children to another aisle. I barely noticed, but you did. You hate it when we make a scene.
I watched those fingers, a year and an ocean away, form tentative shapes over the black and white of the piano keys in your house by the sea. Threaded my own quietly through them as the moon rose behind the curtain, guiding. Drew out a halting music, soft and new and tender, a question and a promise.
The keys bite into my palm as I watch your fingers now curl around your cigarette, flick ash against the side of the concrete bollard where you chose to sit. I watch you as you stare out across the fairway, the curve of your long spine turned from me. I switch the music on, dial it up loud. Your playlist fills the car, and I drown in it.
bones sinking like stones, all that we fought for
You throw the stub of your cigarette to the asphalt, grind it beneath your toe. You’re wearing the shoes I bought for you, specialist barefoot trainers imported from Poland. You love those shoes. I love the way your feet move on the pavement, through the forest. The only feet that could keep up with mine, across fields, plunging down woodland banks, your long legs, long stride, matching my determined speed.
An SUV passes between us. Parks. A family exits; young mother, two toddlers. The horn beeps as the car locks. They cross the lot. You roll another cigarette, stuff the tobacco pouch and the papers
back into your pocket. You know I hate it when you smoke. Hate the smell, how it clings, lingers on your clothes, on your tongue. How I can still smell it hours later, exhaling from the pores of your skin.
I’ve never smoked. Never will. I hate it. Hate you. Hate how I still want you. How even now, my belly tightens at the shape of you, smoke rising. You look edgy, dangerous, exciting, there on the concrete in a city foreign to me as you are, a country I am still learning.
homes, places we’ve grown, all of us are done for
I rest my hand on the stick shift. It’s too hot under my palm, my dress already sticking to my back, to the seat, in the sweat of the east coast summer. I’ve never driven an automatic. Or a left hand drive. My right foot settles on the pedal, left momentarily searching for a clutch that isn’t there. It’s been half an hour. Long enough for the vegetables to wilt in their bags, nestled in the passenger footwell.
We’d laughed, in the air-conditioned aisles, over my hastily written shopping list. Aubergine, courgette, coriander. You dug a pencil from your bag, leaned over my shoulder to scrawl eggplant, zucchini, cilantro. Your breath tickled my ear. I reached on tiptoe to ruffle your hair, kiss your cheek. Your lips brushed mine for a moment, leaving me for the dairy aisle.
The air in the car is heavy, stifling. You take out your phone. Dial a number – a friend, no doubt, to take you home. I have no home, not any more. Caught, transatlantic, in your web. I start the engine and you look up, but you do not turn. The parking lot is busy, someone’s unloading their shopping two spaces down from you, too much noise to identify the familiar cough of the engine, always temperamental. I push the stick into drive, release the handbrake, ease the accelerator.
and we live in a beautiful world, yeah we do, yeah we do
Last summer you drove me the length of Scotland, my feet on the dash, windows down even in the rain. Stopping in tiny highland towns for croissants and kiwi fruits, eaten in the bleak beauty of empty ski resorts as the clouds thickened. Here we eat peanuts, tossing the broken shells out onto the interstate as the hot wind lets fly our hair and our promises. I take one from the glove compartment as I crawl between the parked cars. Crush it in my palm, letting the fragments of shell fall to the footwell, the salty nut into my open mouth.
You stand then. Turn. Your hand falls from your ear, phone left to hang at your side. I’m closer to you now, close enough to see the frown pucker the skin of your brow as you see me, recognition dawning. I’m distracted for a moment, just a moment, by your beauty. The way the afternoon sun falls between the apartments, trees, across the fairway, to glance off your curls and frame you in its light.
Even in the harsh striplights of the store, you could only ever be beautiful. I’d watched you turn the corner as I put tomatoes in the basket. Mushrooms, scallions, garlic. Followed you, then, to the tune of the piped music, a dance in my step. Your hand was on the milk, your eyes on her. Your body tilting towards her, pulled into her gravity. Her lips softly curling upwards as she spoke. It had only happened once, you’d said. I was an ocean away and you were lonely, that was all. It meant nothing. It meant nothing. The touch of her hand, now, on your arm was not nothing. I knew, then. I knew.
Someone calls your name. Your eyes stutter past me. Your hand raises, and I follow the curve of it, the way your long fingers loosen into a half wave. And she is there, stepping out into the sun. I floor the accelerator. Haul the wheel sharply left. Towards her. The tyres screech. Someone screams. You say something, your mouth moving in my periphery. I don’t hear you. I don’t care. She sees me. She runs. You run. Towards each other. The car lurches.
oh, all that I know, there’s nothing here to run from
All of us are done for.
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And finally – Poetry Competition and Masterclass Reminders
Our 2024 Poetry Competition closes midnight 9th April. To enter your poem on the theme of FOOD please head over to our Competitions page.
Limited places are still available at our one-off Performance Poetry Masterclass with our competition judge, Susan Evans. Reserve your place via the Eventbrite link on our Events page.
Don’t forget to subscribe with your email address in the box below.
We are excited to advertise details of a forthcoming Performance Poetry Workshop on 16th April with the award winning Susan Evans.
Join us for an afternoon of creativity and expression at Cusop Village Hall! This in person event is perfect for poetry enthusiasts looking to hone their skills. Susan Evans is a multi-award-winning, multi-disciplinary artist, writer and educator from working-class East London, of Irish and Anglo Indian parentage. She lives and writes in her spiritual home of Brighton, UK.
Susan will guide you through techniques to improve your performance and captivate your audience. Don’t miss this opportunity to expand your poetic horizons and connect with fellow wordsmiths. Come ready to explore and inspire – we can’t wait to see what you’ll create!
Book your place by clicking HERE or email us at thehaywriters@gmail.com
Earlier this week we announced submissions are open to everyone for our annual Poetry Competition which Susan is also judging. We hope to receive a wide variety of poems and poetry styles on the theme of Food for this year’s competition.
Head on over to our Competitions page for full details on how to enter.
To keep up to date with all our news why not subscribe with your email address in the box below.
Submissions are now invited for our annual Poetry Competition and we are delighted to announce the judge for 2024 is the incredible Susan Evans. We hope to receive a wide variety of poems and poetry styles on the theme of Food for this year’s competition.
Upon being invited by Hay Writers’ Circle, to be this year’s poetry competition judge, and performance master-class facilitator, Susan said:
“I’m thrilled to work with such a lovely group from Hay-on-Wye — the world famous ‘town of books.’ And get to pore over poems on the delicious theme of ‘food’. Moreover, visit gorgeous Hay, to deliver a joyful, in-person performance poetry workshop, in 2024 — exciting!”
Susan Evans – photo credit Fran Smith
Susan Evans is a multi-award-winning, multi-disciplinary artist, poet, writer, author and educator from working-class East London, of Irish and anglo Indian parentage. She lives and writes in her spiritual home of Brighton, UK.
Susan has a BA in Theatre with Visual Arts Practice, a Post Graduate Certificate in Education; both from the University of Brighton, and an MA in Arts Therapy (Drama) from the University of Roehampton. She is also a classically trained chef; a culinary artist of distinction from Brighton MET.
Susan was employed full-time, for twenty-five years, within the fields of arts and well-being, largely within the charity sector, across London and the South-East, and was writer and editor on a variety of in-house publications. Susan won a number of awards for innovation in engaging ‘hard to reach’ individuals, groups and audiences, before venturing freelance in 2014; writing and touring from London to New York, as an acclaimed spoken word artist.
A stage and page poet, Susan is widely anthologised and published in various, magazines and journals; nationally and internationally. Her poetry themes include food and travel, see Barcelona: CLICK HERE
CLICK HERE for Susan Evans’ debut poetry collection, Shift Happens (2020)
*POETRY COMPETITION – FIRST PRIZE £100*
The Hay Writer’s Circle Poetry Competition 2024 is open to everyone.
The first prize of £100 with additional cash prizes for 2nd and 3rd placed poems.
The closing date for entries is Tuesday 9th April, 2024 Results will be announced mid May.
Original, unpublished poems of up to 40 lines maximum on the theme of FOOD.
At our discretion, the winning poems will be published on the Hay Writer’s website. Publication may prevent eligibility for future competitions. All rights remain with the author.
For full competition guide lines and entry form please download the file below :
Over the last few months we have accepted several new writers into our long established group. These new members are all creative in spirit and write in a variety of genres; fiction, non-fiction and poetry. Some strive with novels, others are trying to perfect dramatic screen plays or dynamic short stories, then there are others who are beginning their journey with poetry. We welcome them all to our ranks and add their individual voices to the Hay Writers’ Circle collective.
Portraits of some of HWC members below:
If you want to know more about any of our writers, check out our “About Our Authors” page. It’s updated regularly, so do circle back to it as more information is added all the time. This does mean our membership is currently full, but we do have a waiting list for anyone wishing to join.
Firstly, a huge thank you to everyone who entered our annual Fiction Competition – results are pending! The Francis Copping Prize for Fiction was judged by the wonderful Carolyn Lewis and we are so grateful, for not only her judging skills, but also the workshop she gave us in December. We will keep you posted as soon as the results are announced.
As to our 2024 Poetry Competition, please watch this space. We have secured a stella judge for this year’s competition, hailing all the way from Brighton. Our judge is a “thrilling performer” (Hastings Times), and has been long and shortlisted for national poetry performance awards numerous times.
Writing a short story is character building… is perhaps the best way to summarise the main thrust of Dr Carolyn Lewis’ Hay Writers’ Circle Short Story Workshop on Monday 4th December, 2023.
From the outset she emphasized how understanding your characters’ wants and needs, their backgrounds, even the minutiae of their lives off the page brings a vitality and authenticity to their lives on the page that can be sorely lacking otherwise.
In one of the afternoon’s first tasks Dr Lewis demonstrated how considering something as simple as a character’s name and their relationship to it, can have its impact.
To many the above approach may not seem to differ a great deal from that of writing a novel and this, perhaps, is her point: the short story shares not just much of its craft but all of its need for diligence and application with its longer form sibling.
However, Dr Lewis was also at pains to outline the short form’s specific demands: there is little room for indulgences or literary flourishes; it requires precision and economy – every word matters; banish adverbs (and exclamation marks); keep the writing descriptive yet simple and direct. The reader’s attention must be seized by the first words and held by all those that follow without reliance upon the large cast nor the plethora of subplots a novel can afford. It should be remembered that, typically, a short story employs a maximum of three characters with its story woven around a single central thread.
Throughout the afternoon, imaginative and creative responses flowed from the attendees as they explored the various aspects mentioned above. At times other elements were also added into the mix. The essential skill, “show not tell”*, vital for drawing your reader into the emotional landscape of your piece, was touched upon. As was the role dialogue can play not only in character development but the pacing of your piece. Here again the advice was to be simple and direct particularly when it comes to dialogue tags (he said/she said, etc.). One of the last exercises of a very enjoyable and educative afternoon was based around endings and how difficult they can be but also how the best ones can leave the reader wanting more… It is certainly how Dr Lewis left us.
Dr Carolyn Lewis is a novelist, prize-winning short story writer and a creative writing tutor. Her new book, Some Sort of Twilight, published by Watermark Press is a collection of short stories, nearly all of which have won a prize or have been published in anthologies. https://www.watermarkpress.co.uk/shop/carolyn-lewis-some-sort-of-twilight
• Show Not Tell example “Whenever she passed a group of lads in the street, she kept her head down until she walked by. If they made any comment on her freckles or her overlong dresses and old fashioned shoes, she didn’t acknowledge them or make any sign that she’d heard.” (Excerpt from ‘Living over the Shop’ by Carolyn Lewis) against… “Whenever she passed a group of lads in the street, she felt self-conscious.”
Short story authors referenced during the afternoon: Alice Munro William Trevor Morley Callaghan Raymond Carver Annie Proulx Claire Keegan Others that could easily have been mentioned include: Ian McEwan Margaret Atwood Katherine Mansfield Edgar Allan Poe Anton Chekov O. Henry …. The list goes on…
Fiction Competition Reminder!
Don’t forget, there’s still plenty of time after your Christmas dinner to pen an entry for our Fiction Competition 2023 . 500-1500 words on any theme and prizes for 1st, 2nd and 3rd places. Closing date – January 9th 2024!
Download the entry form and full competition details from our COMPETITIONS page
Our judge, Carolyn Lewis, is looking forward to reading all your entries. Good Luck!
Submissions are now invited for our annual Fiction Competition, The Frances Copping Memorial Prize 2023, named in fond remembrance of our Lifetime President who sadly passed away in 2020.
The competition is open to everyone, members of Hay Writers’ Circle and non-members too. Pieces of 500-1500 words on any fiction theme are accepted. Closing date for entries is Tuesday 9th January 2024. Prizes are awarded for first, second and third place.
This year we are delighted to announce that our judge is the wonderful Carolyn Lewis.
Carolyn is an award winning short story writer, a published novelist and a creative writing tutor. She has an MPhil in Writing and has just completed a PhD in Writing at Swansea University. Two text books have been published based on her teaching methods. Her latest book, “Some Sort of Twilight“, was published in 2022 and a new novel will be published in the Spring of 2023 by Watermark Press.
We are delighted to showcase Kerry Hodges’ winning piece, as judged by Tom Bullough for the 2023 Richard Booth Prize for Non Fiction. This is the second time Kerry has won this prize – Many Congratulations Kerry!
Kerry HodgesTom Bullough
Tom wrote, ““When”. This reads like a prose poem, exactly calibrated and with a beautiful, incantatory quality. Its structure – this sense of the pressures of life released, if only fleetingly, into the dawn – is equally effective and affecting.“
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“When” by Kerry Hodges
When you receive an email from a close friend to say her ex, but still close, partner has taken his life. A person loved by a child, a mother. How do the survivors survive? When they wake each morning to the realisation their dream has become a daily nightmare. When the child asks why, why, why and her mother cannot answer. Was our love not enough?
When another close friend you meet in an overcrowded, overpriced coffee shop tells you the dad of a third friend has died. You knew T, only slightly but he was one of those people you don’t forget in a hurry. Upright, elegant, quick-witted. You must call his daughter.
‘I didn’t know he’d been ill.’ you say as you queue for your coffee.
‘That’s the thing,’ she replies, ‘He wasn’t.’
Okay you think as you stand at the till, rummaging in your wallet for £2.69, so how did he die? An accident, that’s the most obvious. Or a heart attack.
Arriving at a table in the noisy café, you ponder further. Did he take his life? Seems unlikely at such an age – he must have been over ninety.
You sip in unison.
‘Okay, so if he wasn’t ill, how did he die?’
‘VSED.’
‘VSED?’
Yes, Voluntarily Stopping Eating and Drinking.’
‘What, he chose to starve to death?’
‘Pretty much.’
Silence as you attempt to digest this information.
‘Tell me more.’
‘He decided to die this way in January and told his family and friends. They had to get a doctor to visit to ensure T had capacity to make the decision. He absolutely did.’
‘But what about B and the rest of his family? How did they feel?’
‘I don’t really know. Except they respected his wishes and cared for him. It took eleven days for him to die.’
You’ve never heard of this way of dying and find it scary but also peaceful, surrounded by loved ones. A supported death.
When so many friends are hurting. When a dear friend battles cancer. They are being brave, in pain, suffering. When they can’t walk out of hospital because their feet are weighed down by lead.
When they live on the loo as poison pours from their core. When they smile their dignified, brilliant smile as you enter the room. When they slurp homemade spicy soup as though it’s growing back their cells and their strength is returning with each spoonful.
When your grown child is lost in a working world of reports, visits, abuse, the taking of children to safety. When they receive little care from overworked, understaffed managers. When they crack and fall and drag themselves to their feet once again to ensure the office is staffed.
And when your elderly mother is getting frailer by the day. When she knows, the weaker she becomes, the more others will do unto her, even though she doesn’t want to be done unto. Like when the man from the care agency arrived to shower her and she said no, I don’t want to be helped by a man and the agency had not phoned to see if she would mind a man helping her. They were not seeing her, the 87-year-old woman who had birthed five daughters, sung in Gilbert and Sullivan operas, worked hard in her care of others. They saw an old lady who would accept any help offered. Too frail to argue the toss. She was not being respected, seen. She was reduced by age.
And when you have your own health worries. Eyesight failing – will I still be driving following my visit to the optometrist on Thursday?
When you move away from the minuscule world you inhabit. Climate crisis, train strikes, NHS strikes, postal strikes, cost of living crisis, war in Ukraine, war in Syria, the plight of women in Afghanistan, Palestine, boats bobbing in rough seas, over-loaded with people seeking asylum – and being refused – a plane to take them to Rwanda, the ongoing grind of institutional racism and sexism, mental health, hospitals creaking, weighed down, falling down for lack of funding. You can’t go on – the list becomes bleaker by the second. Overwhelming, under attack. Turn off the radio.
When you are in danger of cracking, being engulfed by what you see, hear, feel of the world. The low level, daily anxiety of the big issues; issues you can do very little about, when you feel your own impotence. The growing anxiety as friends tell their stories. When you find tears welling too readily, fatigue keeping you awake at night.
Empathy can be destructive.
But when you make tea, take it to your seat by the window and stare, unblinking into the dawn. Watch as light creeps along the hill, shyly opening its eyes for you. The sparrows awake, greet each other and begin their day – delicately drinking from the aluminium saucepan – will they get Alzheimer’s? – arguing furiously at the nuts, my turn, MY TURN. The woodpecker father, hopping up and down the energy balls, pulling sunflower seeds and taking them to his youngster who sits in the ash tree, patiently waiting for its breakfast. And the buzzard, sitting silently higher in the camouflage of leaves, hoping this will prevent the newly fledged robin, picking grubs from the earth, from seeing him.
And when you sip and swallow and sip and swallow and that movement, that repetition gives you comfort. Something has remained the same. For the moment, you can rely on daybreak, you can rely on nature. For the moment.
Lynn Trowbridge – Ex HWC Chair Comes Calling
Seated: Lynn Trowbridge
At ninety nine and three quarter years of age, one would think Lynn Trowbridge would be slowing down a little, but as many of us know, her drive for reading, writing and living life is in itself an inspiration.
Earlier this month we were fortunate to enjoy Lynn’s company at our Cusop Hall meeting. She was our Chairperson for well over a decade , keeping the group writing and moving forward under her guidance. Of course, a decade ago Hay & District Writers’ Circle was very different; much smaller in number, meeting at member’s homes, publishing yearly magazines which were sold locally and just dipping our tentative online toe in the waters of the world wide web.
For our most recent members it’s good to hear how we have developed and arrived at where we are today – a strong, forward thinking writing group striving to craft individual voices through quality writing.
Our immense gratitude to Lynn and all those who shaped the HWC in the past cannot be overstated and we thank them for all their incredible efforts. The Hay Writers’ Circle journey certainly continues – onwards and upwards!
Don’t forget to subscribe with your email address in the box below.
We are delighted to announce the results of our annual non-fiction competition.
This popular competition again received a good number of entries from both inside and outside Hay Writers’ Circle and we very much welcome external interest in all our writing competitions.
Our memorial prize, named in tribute to Richard Booth, the self-proclaimed “King of Hay”, who among many literary interests, was a keen supporter of the Hay Writers’ Circle. He sadly passed away in 2019, still in love with books, writers and his beautiful kingdom of Hay-on-Wye.
Richard Booth (1938-2019)Tom Bullough
Our judge this year was the wonderful Tom Bullough, who celebrated recent success with his publication “Sarn Helen“, which has been Longlisted for the prestigious Wainwright Prize 2023 – Writing on Conservation. Congratulations Tom!
Without further delay, here are the results :
The Richard Booth Prize for Non-Fiction Competition 2023
1st place – “When” by Kerry Hodges
2nd place – “Pittosporum” by Ange Grunsell
3rd place – “A Memoir in Triplicate” by Mark Bayliss
A full judge’s report to follow.
Congratulations once again to everyone who entered their work and a huge thank you to our judge, Tom Bullough.
It’s not without some mark of deep personal respect that I write this. For many years, Lynn Trowbridge, member of the Hay Writers’ Circle and it’s Chairperson for well over a decade encouraged, developed, published and supported countless emerging Hay writers.
She telephoned us each fortnight to remind us to turn up and “darling, have you written something new?”
Lynn always had something new, she always spurred us on and in may ways she still does!!!
Continuing to lead by example, she often took centre stage, quite literally at numerous Hay Festival performances, giving audiences fine, memorable readings. She retired from the HWC a few years ago to spend time publishing her two brilliant books, but still remains a highly valued friend of our group.
Now, at almost 100 years old (she will, I am sure, forgive me for revealing her age!) has decided it’s time for one last public performance. The fortunate event is the next Hay Forums presentation at St Mary’s Church, Thursday 7th September at 6.30pm. I encourage everyone to go along and enjoy Lynn’s remarkable wit and wisdom.
Details are as follows :
Hay Forums presents an informal talk and conversation with local author, Lynn Trowbridge: ‘A Life is What You Get’
Please join us for Hay Forums’ second event in the series of conversations, comments, dialogue and local music.
A Life is What You Get is the title of the autobiography written by one of Hay’s eldest and most respected residents, Lynn Trowbridge. Lynn will talk briefly about her book, and share some highlights and humour of a fascinating and at times harrowing life.
She will join Fr Richard in a Q and A session. The audience will be invited to join in this conversation.
To complement the evening there will be some wartime music favourites, lead by Terry Watson and Fr Richard and, at Lynn’s request, soprano Catherine Hughes will sing two beautiful sacred hymns.
Tickets on the door: £5.00. Refreshments will be available after the event.
Venue – St Marys’ Church, St Mary’s Rd, Hay-on-Wye, Hereford HR3 5EB
THE HAY WRITERS 