Lora
Stimson won our 2014/15 prose competition for her short story Cornflake Girl. The story was published
in our annual anthology with twenty commended and she also received a cash
prize of £600 and read at our International Women’s Day celebration in Norwich
and our anthology event in Cambridge.
We
asked Lora to write something for the blog on what winning has meant for her.
We hope her words will encourage you to enter this year’s prose competition
which will be launched on the 7th September. We have an amazing
guest judge this year, and are hoping for many entries from women writers in
the East of England. The competition is open to writers of memoir, creative
non-fiction and fiction and entries can be 2,200 words or under.
Over
to Lora:
“This
year begun in the most wonderful way for me – with the news that I had won the
Words And Women Prose Competition with my story Cornflake Girl. My initial reaction was that of surprise. Then joy,
obviously. Because the short story form is something I’m still learning to
nail, one that I love and respect and therefore am naturally wary of.
I
think short story has the most potential, is the most exciting form to work in,
can do so much with so little. I read a lot of short stories. I find myself
returning most often to those by Ali Smith, Jonathan Safran Foer, Raymond
Carver, Jane Rogers, Miranda July. The short story must be both vast and
painfully narrow. It’s deceptively difficult to nail. It has a lot to do with
sprawling backstory and precision editing, about vignettes and universal
truths. I’ve so much more to learn.
To
quote a line from Cornflake Girl: ‘Here’s
how I do it.’ I write short stories very slowly and many times over. I often
interrogate what I’m doing until the whole thing falls apart and I hide it away
and try to forget I thought of such a useless idea in the first place. Every
now and again something clicks into place (a change in perspective, thematic
conceit, stylistic approach; an ‘aha’ moment) and the story, lurking in the
shadows behind all those unnecessary words, suddenly makes sense. And then I
finish it very quickly and treat it like a scab; try not pick at it, let it
have some open air in which to heal.
Cornflake Girl
is dear to me. I realise this sounds trite. It’s inspired by a Tori Amos
lyric. I sketched it over and over before I realised what it was actually
about. I workshopped it with my writing group (whose comments I’m very grateful
for!) and then I left it for some time whilst I wondered and tried not to pick.
I
didn’t expect my story to win. Honestly. Words And Women exists for women
writers living in the East of England and there are a lot of fantastic writers
in this region. A lot. It was daunting and delighting. And, let’s be honest,
cash prizes are rare and infinitely helpful. Especially when your laptop
battery has died and you can only write whilst 3 feet from a plug point.
But
most importantly, wins like this generate confidence. A month later (and with a
laptop that was actually portable) I finally let my novel out into the world
and subsequently signed with my literary agent. The Words And Women prize
played no small part in this. I’m very grateful to be part of the cohort,
especially reading through the Anthologies themselves, which are brimming with
vast, clever, readable, artfully edited stories. Best of luck to those
submitting this year, I look forward to the next wonderful Anthology.”
Lora Stimson studied creative writing at Norwich School of Art &
Design and UEA. She has published stories and poems with Nasty Little Press,
Unthank Books, Ink, Sweat and Tears and Streetcake Magazine. In 2014 she was
mentored by novelist Shelley Harris as part of the WoMentoring scheme. Her
first novel, about sex, grief and model villages, currently hides in a drawer.
She has higher hopes for her second novel, about twins, which received an Arts
Council England grant and is now in its final edit. Lora works as a programme
manager for Writers' Centre Norwich and sings with the bands Moonshine Swing
Seven and The Ferries. She lives in Norwich with her husband and son.
