picosgemeos: (Montanhas)
Impossible Things, the anthology with my short "Walkmen", plus some other goodies from last night (a postcard from writer Maggie Gee, a card from @neenaw59 and a free course with Creative Future.)

We returned to the Free Word Centre’s reception area for a short champagne-flavoured intermission.

Maggie Gee carried envelopes with all finalists names on them, mine on top. Inside, a postcard of a black cat and two men on a canoe carried her impressions of my story.

Friends soon arrived: [livejournal.com profile] naturalbornkaos and [livejournal.com profile] neenaw – two published authors who had thanked me in their books – and an acquaintance who I jokingly requested represent her workplace, the British Library, at my reading.

The third lucky charm, my boyfriend, wasn’t there by the time we were ushered back inside the theatre for the finalists’ readings.
picosgemeos: (Montanhas)

Image by Emma Logie

Origami birds covered one of the walls of the Free Word Centre’s lecture theatre.

The judges stood on stage, calling us one by one to receive a copy of the anthology Impossible Things and a congratulatory plaque. We smiled at hired photographers.

The poet Lemn Sissay hosted the evening with support from writer Maggie Gee. We were disarmed. One finalist, Brummie Tina Freeth, had studied in university with an old friend of mine from Hong Kong. One poet confided to me that they had been drinking since 11am.

Tall ones like myself stood at the back for the group photo.
picosgemeos: (Montanhas)
Reception for Creative Future's Literary Awards 2015, one week ago today. #cflitawards

A week ago I stood alone outside the Free Word Centre in Farringdon. Creative Future’s Literary Awards ceremony was about to take place inside and I was one of 12 finalists.

“Impossible Things” was this year’s theme. Impossible was what I used to think whenever someone asked my feelings on reading my fiction in public.

Glass of champagne in hand, I travelled the reception room reading the winning pieces up on white boards. One finalist, a writer from Northern Ireland, gave me a life-saving tip: “read slowly”.

When they ushered us into the small theatre, I sat beside him.

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