GALLEY BEGGAR PRESS SHORT STORY PRIZE 2023/24

An interview with GBP Short Story Prize author Laurence Pritchard

Laurence: ‘Dirty Weekend’! I don’t even know where to start… (and am not even sure where I could, in terms of giving the game away; it’s not a story that lends itself to summaries, without spoilers). … Do you think you could introduce the story to our readers – just a few words?

An ordinary couple meets at a support group. They have an immediate attraction to each other. That attraction helps them both through the huge change they are about to go through. 

Can you tell us a bit more about when the ‘Dirty Weekend’ first came to you – and how you went about writing it?

I was reading about devolution, in the scientific sense, although, of course it’s what you might call “bad science.” It made me think about Trump and the far-right, our government here. In many ways, we are going backwards. I suppose the pandemic also came into it, and conspiracy theories. People cooped up on their sofas all day, thinking up explanations for things they don’t understand. The first scene I had for the story was the scene on the beach, a ball being thrown, then I worked back to the meeting of the couple, then forward, as their relationship grows.

Place is seems very important in the story. And in terms of choosing a slightly dingy (at least, in the public imagination) seaside town, Weston-Super-Mare is an inspired choice. (I can remember slopping about in dirty sand there when I was young, and just the thought of it reminds me of Orwell’s ‘The Art of Donald McGill’). … All of which is to say, was there just a lightbulb moment – or did you have a shortlist?

Brighton was the first. But I realised it’s a place that has largely been gentrified, at least in the public imagination. It’s a far cry from the Graham Greene and Patrick Hamilton novels. I grew up in Bristol and have been going to Western-super-Mare since I was a kid. I remember there was an open-air swimming pool, which was unheated; the shock of the cold when you dived in! There were arcade games, donkeys led by carrots on the beach. I still go. There’s a huge Wetherspoons now.

In fact, the entire story is replete with the kind of very grey, cheap and English flourishes and details that wouldn’t seem out of place in a Morrissey song: rough seafronts, grimy pubs, Stella, Pedigree Chum… Tell us more about this. (And did you have a lot of fun, thinking about these things?)

Ann Quin’s Berg, Pinter’s The Birthday Party, Charles Hawtrey holding out in Dea, even Sebald and the empty, lost seaside towns – I love those works and the atmosphere they conjure up. Visiting the Isle of Wight recently was like going back about fifty years. I’ve always found it fascinating that English people don’t really like seafood, there’s a meagre selection available compared to other countries. Show a Brit an octopus salad and they’ll run a mile. I was amazed to read that Clarice Lispector once visited Torquay – and that the surrealists used to hang out in Cornwall; there is always this surreal aspect to these places too, whether on the coast or inland. You’re never quite sure what the parameters are.

Language is an important part of ‘Dirty Weekend’; it’s a key part of humanity – and you get to play around with the process of it breaking down. I’d love to hear more about this (and I’m interested in how you’ve kept the disintegration a playful, joyful thing: it’s not a tragedy.)

This was a really important aspect of the story and something that came in later versions – the love the characters have for each other. Also, it solved (hopefully!) one of the biggest problems I had – of how much to say about the world they were living in and how much was happening to them. Would they not have a thousand questions that would have to be answered in the text? Keeping it with the couple – previous versions had more characters in – meant there were naturally questions they didn't have to ask as it was a shared experience. In literary terms it was writers such as Beckett and Blanchot which informed that reduction of language to a near silence.

Is ‘Dirty Weekend’ an allegory? Or should we read it completely straight?

I resisted giving it a specific political or social/cultural significance when I was writing because it just seemed clumsy. But readers can read anything they want to read into it!

OK! On to  your writing more generally. How long have you been writing? Do you have a daily routine?

I’ve been writing for years but more recently have been concentrating on short fiction. I start my day job around 3pm and finish late so that means I can work most mornings after imbibing absurd amounts of coffee. 

And what are you working on something at the moment? 

I am re-writing a short story that was shortlisted for last year’s Bridport prize and also a new short story that features a strange mythical being.  

What’s the best writing tip you’ve ever received, and what’s the worst?

Just work line by line. See where each one takes you. The worst? I remember a film where someone was advised to “include everything in the story, even if it’s not relevant” which seems completely batshit, even though it wasn’t directed at me.

Habits, too. What’s a bad writing habit you have – and give us one that’s proved fairly useful, too.

My worst habit is not working enough on the story – thinking that readers will “probably get that bit.” They never do. A good habit is to read the story aloud – you really get a feel for the rhythm and the pace. 

What about other writers? Can you tell us about some authors you admire, as well as some that you are influenced by?

I read widely so there are a lot to mention! Kafka, as you will probably guess, Beckett, Blanchot and Borges are writers I keep going back to. Some of my favourite short story collections are Mary Gaitskill’s Bad Behaviour, May-Lan Tan’s Things to Make and Break, and the Clarice Lispector Collected Stories. I’ve just finished Jamel Brinkley’s Witness which was great too. 

And here’s a spot to namecheck any other favourite things: artists, arts, films, cinemas, TV, music… whatever you like.

Zone of Interest was extraordinary – it’s stayed with me since I saw it a week ago. David Lynch is a huge influence, as is Francis Bacon. Bela Tarr. The Curse TV series. In terms of sounds, Speaker Music, the project of DeForrest Brown Jr. 

“The horror of the blank page” is something that has – by pure chance – popped up in our social media timeline two or three times over the past week. So we want end by asking all of our longlisted authors: Do you feel that horror? And how would you advise other writers to get beyond it?

The real horror for me is half-way through writing a story – when I am convinced that it is the worst piece of writing that has ever been committed to paper. But for that, and any problems concerning blank spaces staring at you, I normally find a good hour-long walk clears your thoughts.

read laurence’s GBP Short Story Prize nominated story, ‘Dirty Weekend’, here.

LAURENCE PRITCHARD is a writer from Bristol, UK. He has lived and worked in Paris, France and South Korea. He teaches English language and literature, and translates from French to English. His story ‘To Palermo’ was shortlisted for the 2023 Bridport Prize and he has a short fiction piece in Deuleuzine vol. 2.