Thank you to everyone from around the world, who has entered our 2026 Award so far.
It closes at midnight BST on Monday 27th April. You still have time to write or refine a short story!

Here are a few reminders:

The fee is £9.00 per entry

£1750 prize pot, including a prize for an unpublished writer of fiction and a local prize.

2200 word limit

The stories can be on any subject. But we have fewer hopeful or funny stories and it is always great to read those too. We accept simultaneous submissions. Let us know asap if you are accepted elsewhere.

Our shortlist judge is Gordon Wise of Curtis Brown literary agency

Results are out by the beginning August and shortlisted authors are offered publication in our 2026 BSSA anthology.

Before you submit, check the rules and send your stories to the email address on the entry page (Some have been arriving at the wrong email address). Remember the word limit of 2200 (we have received stories much longer than this) and don’t add any identifying marks on your stories.

Thank you and good luck!

BSSA team
April 20th 2026

Here’s a post from team member, Jude’s archives for any weekend writers refining a short story for our 2026 Award, which ends on Monday April 27th, in just over two weeks time. Can you make your short story stand out by its particulars? (And if you are entering, remember to check the rules. Our readers tell us that several stories are well over the limit of 2200 words. And do send to the email address on the entry page. Thanks everyone)

Back to particulars…

In estate-agent speak, ‘the particulars’ of properties for sale or rent are anything but particular. ‘Compact’, means a flat the size of a cupboard, ‘deceptively spacious’, means there may be a cupboard in the flat somewhere.

At the wonderful Stinging Fly summer workshop I attended in Dublin some years ago, we were given an article by tutor, Sean O’Reilly, during a session on the use of detail. I don’t know who wrote the piece, but the author says “it’s not just detail that distinguishes good writing (fiction or non-fiction) ; it is detail that individualises. I call it particularity. Once you’re used to spotting it–and spotting its absence–you will have the best possible means of improving your writing markedly.” There’s some great examples of particularity in this article – for example, the first line of Graham Green’s The Heart of the Matter.

“Wilson sat on the balcony of the Bedford Hotel with his bald pink knees thrust against the iron work”.

The author of the article points out that if the words ‘bald pink knees’ were removed, the sentence would be ordinary, not memorable. Those three words do a great deal to suggest character and bring the other details into focus. It’s a brilliant example of how to begin a novel or short story.

I’ve been reading and enjoying Alison Moore’s story collection, The Pre-War House. She often particularises characters by their actions. I like this example from the story ‘Over night stop’. The protaganist is a woman going on her honeymoon. The plane is delayed and she and her new husband are put up in a hotel. Alone in the hotel bar, she suddenly recognises someone – a man from her past, called Stanley.

“She shared a house with a friend of his and never knew if she would return from work to find Stanley on the sofa, drinking milk from the carton, resting it between his thighs after swigs, looking at her in her uniform and saying, ‘Hello nursey.’”

For me, there’s something about Stanley swigging the milk, resting the carton between his thighs then saying ‘Hello nursey’, that makes him distinctively creepy. Without Alison writing anything else, I imagine Stanley has a mustache of milk, can see the beige of his trousers, hear the wheedling tone of his voice. This story gets much more creepy – it’s very good. I recommend reading it and the rest of the collection.

Jude, April 11th 2026

Time is running out. It’s just under four weeks until we close – on Monday, April 27th. But there’s still time to write a story from scratch, redraft, edit and do the final tweaks. BSSA has a limit of 2,200 words but whatever the length, the start of a a story is vital in grabbling attention and setting the pace for what’s to follow.

From our archives here are some of our favourite writers on BEGINNINGS

2022 BSSA Judge, author and writing teacher Paul McVeigh had this to say:

Beginnings are very important. Talking specifically from the point of view of judging competitions and reading stories in an endless feast …, I find beginnings are crucial to keep me reading. For these platforms (which I don’t think have to apply to stories in a collection), one way to get my attention is to see the first page as pulling the ring from the grenade. I will read to see if it goes off – I assume it will and cause the maximum amount of damage possible. If that grenade doesn’t go off and you’ve written an end I believe in and welcome, then I will tip my hat to you. I will also be a bit jealous.

Prize-winning author Colin Barrett winner of the Guardian First Book prize in 2014 for his brilliant short story collection, Young Skins says this :

Try to make something interesting happen as near to the opening as you can. Now this doesn’t have to be some showy eruption of plot or an aphoristic nugget of an opening line, though it may well be; it might just be the deployment of an unobvious adjective or unexpected detail seamed somewhere into your opening paragraphs. A nuanced little observation or moment, carefully placed. If you can get a small moment right near the start it sends a signal to the reader that you can trust me, you can keep reading. There’s nowhere to hide with short stories, if it’s five or ten pages long it’s got to start well, do well in the middle, and end well. No point saying it gets good half way through.

What about ENDINGS? Award-winning short story writer and novelist, Danielle McLaughlin says this:

As for endings: stop in the right place. Easier said than done, I know, but a short story can be ruined if the writer insists on carrying on past the ending. “… already in that space the light begins to fade into the calm gray even light of the novelist.” That quote is from a paragraph in The Lonely Voice where Frank O’ Connor is discussing an aspect of the work of Mary Lavin, and, whether or not you agree with his assessment of Lavin’s work, the analogy of the fading of light is a good way of explaining the loss of intensity, the loss of explosiveness, that can occur when a short story continues on further than it should.

And then there are the finishing touches …

On finding the right TITLE

Short story writer and poet, Tania Hershman has this important advice on titles:

You want your work to stand out from the beginning in the huge pile that the judge has in front of him or her, and a good title will do that better than a quirky font or odd layout (avoid those). If a judge has ten stories called “The Visit” or “The Day it All Changed”, he or she might be rather jaded by the time it comes to the 10th. But don’t make your title too interesting or creative if your story can’t live up to it – make sure it does!

The best single comment on a title comes from acclaimed short story writer Tessa Hadley, who we interviewed in 2013:

‘A title clinches something, it crisps the story up and seals it like a top on a bottle.’

Do also read the writing advice from this year’s judge, Gordon Wise.

We look forward to reading your stories and thank you to all who have entered so far