1. FIRST PRIZE: 'The Side of Light' by Joyanna Lovelock

2. SECOND PRIZE: 'The Weight of Rain' by Sharon Marie Hier
3. THIRD PRIZE: 'The Storm not Over' by Susan Martin

Facing the Storm JUDGE'S REPORT ON PROSE SHORTLISTED & WINNING ENTRIES

 Dec. 2025

From Competition Judge, VICTORIA GRAINGER

After reading through the sea of entries, I now know how Turner felt strapped to the mast of that ship he managed to hitch a ride with to sail into a tempest to better observe it! There were secrets and surprises, crime capers and betrayals, some great humour too, ‘Josiah Turnip’s Painting Expedition’ comes to mind! And among the rain-lashed landscapes and turbulent seas, many personal tales of the interior storms, of loss, and of grief, so for sharing these, all of these, a warm thank you. A mention too, for an entry from a ten year old, who’s already asked for a critique! and who will no doubt enter future lists and good luck to her.

     The stories that rose to the surface and on to the shortlist charted different times of life with unique splashes of colour and had plots that hooked me like a Margatesea bass. There’s a daughter finding her way through the storm of dealing with a deeply troubled mother. There’s the historical healing of an ex-soldier in post-war Paris, a priest’s spiritual confrontation, and a Welsh tale of justice for miners. There’s a lyrically beautiful, wonderfully Christmassy tale of modern life meeting a more traditional way of living. Two I fell for instantly, focus on the same Turner painting, The Fighting Téméraire, and feature older characters facing what’s to come in the autumn, or winter even of their lives – IF they take the chance. One story features an impressively stoic narrator cleverly conveying to us while concealing within the story her quietly rising rage, as she navigates her way through a crumbling relationship, and completing the shortlist, there is a beautiful, dialogue-driven folklorish tale about a grieving woman and a primal scream that movingly triggers her path to healing. Hope and healing are the recurring themes of the ones I’ve chosen I suppose. I find great power in a story that can deliver a calm both before and after a storm. So I hope you will enjoy these beautiful and important stories, and feel uplifted too.

     I’m passionate about writers being the guardians of the extraordinary works of art and writing that are our heirlooms. It’s our job to write about them, AND to read them, so thank you so much to everyone who put their work out there. Thank you too, to The Canterbury Festival Fiction Prize, and to Luigi Marchini, Gary Studley and all the SaveAs Writers, who work every year so vibrantly and constantly to offer opportunities to celebrate our greats, while giving great new writers a chance!

     So to those writers and the readings…

First Place:

"The Side of Light"

By Joyanna Lovelock

🥇”On rainy days, Eleanor liked to haunt the galleries. The National Gallery was kind to older feet: wide benches, patient elevators, warm air, and the comfort of knowing paintings outlive the weather.”

"The Side of the Light" was the seventeenth entry I read and I loved it immediately. ‘The very instant that I read it did my heart fly to its service!’ It’s a stunning piece of writing that tells so much so well. It stayed with me, and every time I read it I just loved it more. Though I was completely open to stories having very little or even anything at all to do with Mr Joseph Mallord William Turner, who we are celebrating tonight, this just felt, fearless, creative, and perfect. Congratulations to Joyanna Lovelock. "The Side of the Light" is the winner of OUR Turner Prize, with the story that starts, where it feels right to end, standing, or sitting, “it is kind to older feet”, in the National Gallery, gazing at a Turner.

The story begins ... in The National Gallery on a rainy day, where we get to stand in front of Turner’s The Fighting Témérairewith seventy four year old Eleanor, as she meets the much younger Tom.

“I come here to think,” Tom said.

“I come here not to think,” she replied, and he laughed out loud.

And so it begins! Gently and solidly written all the way through, with brilliant observations, humour, and bright, beautiful phrasing, the natural yet carefully plotted dialogue is used so well to move the story along, and the lively, full, pacy style helps reveal multiple points of views and feelings quickly, as taboos are confronted as their relationship blooms. Their chemistry sparks right in front of a; “Turner sun blazing over a sea..the light less a painted thing and more of a choice. Move towards it, and the room becomes brighter.”

The writing is assured, and though unapologetically romantic, the character’s concerns and conflicted emotions are not over-written or dwelled on, just, summed up concisely, and perfectly; “It was not all light. The world contained mirrors..”. There are light and original descriptions of all of the characters, vivid sometimes by just how they wear their hair, like Eleanor’s clever, acerbic, protective daughter; “Her hair was pulled back with a ferocity that had frightened teachers since she was thirteen”! And inspiring detail that turned any potential sadness or self pity on its head; “On days like this, Eleanor moved through carefully, grateful for the stiffness in her legs that kept her slow enough to notice.” The use of the umbrella and the restorer as symbols for Eleanor’s tackling of the time of life she finds herself in is so well done. It is a stunning piece, poignant, with great depth and light strokes, moving, and hopeful, full of metaphor and uncertainty, just like a Turner.

Second Place:

"The Weight of Rain"

By Sharon-Marie Hier

🥈“Sometimes the truth took longer than a life. But sometimes if you told it clearly enough, it could outlive you.”

A beautiful story, beautifully told. Flowing with detailed, rhythmic story telling, with a plot that manages to traverse time while keeping us within the present - capped by a gratifying conclusion and a glorious final line. In second place, congratulations to Sharon-Marie Hier.

     The story has a plot that manages to cover a wide scale of time while keeping it within a current moment, and look at this beautiful writing; “They walked the sloping mile home to Ty Gwyn Bach, the old farmhouse crouched in the valley like a sleeping animal. It had been in the family for four generations, through births and deaths and the kind of storms that pulled trees from the earth…”.

     Profound detail reaches out from the off, like the way her late father’s voice comes to her singing; “That memory floated up now, as if the rain had shaken it loose”, adding what he was singing, the timbre of his voice, the brand of whiskey he was drinking while singing, (Penderyn!) - this is what I’ll tell our ten year old friend who entered, it is the beauty and constance of small detail, that, completely unique as it is, through digging inwards to the pin-point specific, reaches out. My father, though he certainly sang while drunk, never drank Penderyn, (that I know of!), but “floated up now,” in me, as I read. Clear, poignant writing that touches your own sweet sadness, or sad sweetness, of remembrance..

A wonderful plot takes over to hurtle us through to a magnificent final line that would not let it leave the shortlist;“Sometimes the truth took longer than a life. But sometimes if you told it clearly enough, it could outlive you.”

Third Place:

"The Storm Not Over Yet"

By Susan Martin

🥉“He holds his hands in front of him as if he is praying to some god of getting his own way.”

The god of getting your own way was on this writer’s side! For fascinating characterisation, and an intelligent, surprising narrator whose intricate narrative shows how a character can run rings around their antagonist without ever losing it on the surface, and who negotiates the language of her storm with dignity and wisdom. It’s impressive to pull off in a short story, a character who can convey her anger and circumstances while never openly giving away her rage to the other characters, so there is much depth and a brilliant use of dramatic irony here, and the storm rises perfectly to show a silent, subtly passionate, singleminded and extremely capable character take back her own story, that is in danger of being re-written for her. Congratulations to Susan Martin, in third place.

     This story features superb character exposition, in a storm that rises perfectly over an eroding relationship; “The booming of billowing thunder fills the silence that hangs between us.” We’re quickly introduced on to the side of our stoic, silent, subtle narrator, as we see her quietly explosive interior build as she comes to her conclusions about what she’s going to do. Despite often swallowing her words and concealing her brewing discontent, WE get to hear her sibilant rage brewing…

     “I turn away just to give myself a moment to choke down the words that want to spurt from my mouth. A low guttural growl fills my self-enforced silence, as if an injured demon is crawling from the spume that spills over the slipway like a shroud.”

Her sardonic observations are a pleasant surprise too, with lines like; “He holds his hands in front of him as if he is praying to some god of getting your own way.” And; “Hayley’, he hesitates, and I wonder if he thinks his use of my name at the start of his sentences gives his words some sort of gravitas.” As she slowly starts to speak up for herself, it’s a joy to read on to find out whose of the two’s prayers might be answered. He wants her to move for his work, abandoning hers. She doesn’t want to move, especially not with him! Seems like the god of getting his own way might not be listening. But the storm rumbles on…

"Rockets and Blue Lights"

By Mary Bennet

… is a glimpse into the life of a daughter dealing with the tumultuous storm of living with a lovable and creative, yet mentally volatile, and sadly often-suicidal parent. Having the mother’s favourite Turner on the wall, the Rockets and Blue Lights of the title, is a moving touch that centres the story beautifully, evoking why these masterpieces are still with us 250 plus years later, showing how far they reach, and how a particular painting can become such an intimate part of the landscape of our life. As radiant as the picture in pride of place is, our narrator tells us that when it gets bad, “All the wonder of Turner’s skies don’t help on those days.” It’s a wonderfully heartfelt piece, that layers imagery to build and breathe the characters to life, also achingly showing how alert the narrator is to every atmospheric change. With a knock at the door, she knows just by what name they call her, the ominous nature of the news about to be imparted; “No one calls me Virginia. Every one calls me Woofie”.

     The swift contrasts, cleverly and quickly turn us to lighter lively homely imagery; “Just a few days ago my mum was standing there slicing tomatoes and laughing, wondering out loud how many she’d cut in her life.” What’s beautiful about this piece is how we get to see the narrator as she reaches for the way forward, as she tries to widen the comprehension of her mother through a fullness of her, and not just through the lens of her diagnosis, and that was this story’s power.

"Thus, Conscience Does Make Cowards"

By Paul Budd

… is a spiritual confrontation, a storm of the soul versus the secret desires of the heart! I loved the intimacy of this setting that takes place in the confession box, and the steady gentle internal arc, brevity is the soul of its wit. This story managed to pack a lot in to that small wooden place of secrets, and I loved the clever use of structure that uses a flashback to hint at more. Right in the middle of the story we’re released briefly from the small intimacy of the church, to find ourselves back in time, out on the cliff edge with the windy world above our heads, watching a raging storm of conscience being battled inside the character, before we are quietly returned back to the confessional. I like a piece that works with the title, and this one maybe nudges us in the direction of inaction, I don’t know. In ambiguity lies possibility! Let’s see which way our narrator’s conscience nudges him…

"Imitation of Life"

By Elaine Gormley

... is a lyrical, romantic storm of modern guy falling for old-fashioned gal at Christmas, even though he’s about to announce his engagement to someone else on New Year’s Eve!

      I loved this budding, earthy romance between Biddy and Patrick, so prepare for a perfectly Christmassy, cottage-core tale full of the scents of honey and ham, butter and cinnamon, pine and orange, and the comforting warmth of steaming old teapots. It’s a clever piece too, using fluid, evocative dialogue to convey clever mirroring and subtle contrast all the way through, the real versus the synthetic life. His waxed tamed hair versus her wild wavy waterfall. Her delicious home made soup versus the shop bought M&S he’s used to. We watch as he retreats further away from the imitation world he’s created, and life with his lip-fillered fiancé who buys him the latest trainers, towards the wild and the wonderful and the everything you can’t buy. Biddy represents everything his world doesn’t, and it all starts with a toothache…

"The Final Storm - Remembering the Fighting Téméraire"

By Ian Grant

“The end of an era. The Fighting Téméraire is hauled away on a calm evening, taking it’s last peaceful journey into oblivion….”

     What a beautiful opening, to a compelling story, that hauls us away emotionally from the start with that moving likening of the time and this moment in the life of the narrator, to the Téméraire that Turner immortalised, the once extraordinarily high achieving ship that “confronted a redoubtable foe” while “defending their homeland, the safety of their Country, and all they held dear.” Beautifully written, intimate, honest, far-reaching and full of fervour, with wonderful detailed geographical, social, cultural and literary references, this is an important story, not just about time, but the will to fight for what the narrator feels is still worth fighting for, necessary even, in the “March of Progress.” I love the sense it gives, of capturing a turning tide moment, just like Turner did, and watching whether or not the narrator decides to become master of his own ship using the strength of his own compass. With a wonderful sense of generational detail too, we’re moved rhythmically and pacily through the narrator’s fascinating history, fittingly bringing us to the shores of Kent, where the story then cleverly builds to incorporate one of Turner’s famous and most beautiful phrases, "It is only when we are no longer fearful that we begin to create.”

     What is worth fighting for if not to live fearlessly and to create….no matter what age or stage of life we’re at...?

"The Storm in Her Wake"

By Sharon-Marie Hier

…is a powerful piece that uses the landscape to hint at the details of a private tempest taking place deep within the mind and the body. Though it feels like there are many figures imparted through the story, there are minimal characters, a wise woman, and a woman escaping or trying to escape a grief - of course wherever we go there we are, and so we meet her in the middle of her storm at the water’s edge. She’s challenged and supported by nature, through the language of nature and womanhood, with grief that emerges to be as visceral as the storm that begins to lash and soak her to the skin, to let the thing that must be let out, out, so that life can move on. It flows seamlessly, builds rhythmically, and is beautifully dialogue-driven;

    “The sea knows grief child…”

     “I don’t believe in that” Mara whispered. “In fate or legacy. Or curses.”

     “No need to believe,” Brona said, “it still believes in you.”

     And it is wonderfully atmospheric: ‘A crack of thunder shook the windowpanes. Mara stood abruptly. “Why are you here?”

“To watch the storm. To see what you’ll do with it.”

"Peacemakers in Picardy"

By David Mcvey

…tells of the stoic recovery of an ex-soldier who decides to make a pilgrimage to the French battlefields he fought on, to relive in order to recover. “This was a place where memory lived and walked”, says the psychologically-torn but practical narrator. Belonging neither here nor there or really anywhere anymore, we see him place himself back in a now post-conflict landscape, even seeking out his old dug-out, his ease and comfort in there in itself discomforting;

     “…habitable again, my blankets lay neatly on a thin groundsheet, and the little room flickered in welcoming candlelight. It was just like before. Only silent.”

Contrast is used well, as the seemingly blithe, impersonal disconnected peacemakers glide in, in chauffeured entourage, interestingly including historical characters, as we see the narrator find less in common with the “peacemakers” of his own land, and more in common with a German soldier, who has likewise returned to find, or make his own inner peace.

Facing the Storm JUDGE'S COMMENTS ON POETRY ENTRIES

 Dec. 2025

Final Remarks from, MARA ADAMITZ SCRUPE

In a creative writing competition comprising more than three hundred poems, one might expect quite a diversity of approaches to “Facing the Storm”, the theme chosen by SaveAs Writers in commemoration of the 250th anniversary of J M W Turner's birth. And I was certainly not disappointed. From rhymed narrative forms to blank verse, to free verse to elegies, this reader encountered nearly every imaginable poetic approach.

Having read each submitted poem many times, I was struck by both the more literal treatments of the subject – weather, the sea, and storms emerged frequently – as well as  poems that addressed the topic from a more internalized perspective, taking on questions of family relationships, personal partnerships, illness and death. This diversity alone was very impressive, particularly in the ways in which poets grappled so directly but also metaphorically, with periods, phases, and experiences in life that are most painful and potentially devastating.

The poems I selected for the longlist were those that seemed to me to most honestly express each poet’s deepest sensibilities and vulnerabilities. I find it challenging as a writer to reveal my inmost weaknesses, insecurities, even failures. The longlisted poems were so poignant and eloquent in that regard that more than one piece left me in tears and wondering how the writers had managed to reach out so movingly, and yet without self-pity, posturing, or bathos.

Thus, choosing the ten poems on the shortlist was diabolically difficult. I hemmed and hawed, seesawing from one to another, trying to land on the final three poems comprising first, second, and third place in the competition. In the end, it is certainly possible that any one of these ten poems could have been a winner, given the judge, and the ambiguities of a given theme, and the poet’s approach to it. Ultimately, the three winning poems were those that struck me the hardest and stuck with me the longest. That noted, I am delighted to have had the opportunity to read each of the shortlisted poems, and I congratulate all ten of these marvelous poets. As a writer friend of mine once opined: if you’re on the shortlist, you’ve already won!