Thank you to our October first prize winner Adam Brannigan from Australia for his very interesting and thoughtful answers to our questions about what inspired his winning story ‘Two nude night owls’, his writing style and where he writes. He’s provided a link for you to read another of his prize-winning flash fiction stories and do check out his great writing prompt at the end of the Q & A to inspire you write a layered story sparked off by the mundane. Adam”s landscape photograph is from a very recent bushwalk he took in South West Rocks, New South Wales and the picture of fungi was taken on Bribie Island, Queensland.

Q & A

• Can you tell us what inspired your wonderful and moving first prize-winning story, Two nude night owls’?

Thank you for that kindness. ‘Two nude night owls’ was, in truth, inspired by the very mundane and I’m still surprised the story invited deep consideration by readers for the award and by Kathryn Aldridge-Morris. One evening, I was looking at a house for sale, online. I became lost in an image of its pool, and beside it a small fire pit. I wondered if both pool and firepit might be in view of the neighbour’s house and wondered what un/neighbourly interactions might arise if I lived in that home, swam naked at night in that pool and then sat at the firepit. All that autobiographical wondering led to a story, written in that moment and submitted.
But in revealing this inspiration, I am also revealing the sleight of hand at work within it. The characters in the story are the same person, in the pool, by the firepit; segregated only within the text by the arbitrary and imagined space of the unscreened property boundary and by the assumption that there are two separate lives portrayed here. Yes, both nude night owls are the same person; their life is simply portrayed in two layers. All that waving at each other is just existential distraction. Kathryn rightly identified one of the themes in the story. But I’d like to go deeper: this is allegory – not only are we separated from each other, but living in our ‘epidemic of loneliness’ can give rise to separations of the self. To a kind of dying. A fracturing. Granted, it’s not obvious, but it’s there; revealed a little more in the very light editing I’ve given the story in preparation for publishing in the anthology. And I’m certainly very pleased that BFFA and the publisher Ad Hoc Fiction allow writers to make light edits before inclusion in the anthology, otherwise these further revelations may not have seen the light of day. Like most of my published work, the mundane hides

• Both the judge and I think the story has a cinematic quality and could be made into a little movie. Do you think using strong images with an evocative story is typical of your writing?

Yes. I do write with a strong preference for inviting/generating visual representations in the minds of readers, but this is the first time that a cinematic quality to my writing has been acknowledged by judges in any award. Of course, my inspiration was an image, and though I didn’t set out to create a cinematic flash, I am pleased it turned out that way. My response to the image was ekphrastic, and in turn if I have generated a series of mental images for the reader to respond to, then we begin to move together in a creative orbit. On reflection, a great deal of my published work makes use of strong images. Strong images are evident in ‘Distances at four in the morning’ which was longlisted in the BFFA in October 2023 and is published in The Weather Where You Are. I was longlisted in June 2025 in the BFFA for ‘Discontinued line’ and I think it a good example of my cinematic storytelling style, so look for that in the next anthology when its published. In the meantime, I have no social media nor a website, and very little of my published work is available online, but there is this prize winning piece published last year in Meniscus Literary Journal on page 265 on the linked pdf.
‘A good up of tea can fix anything’

• Have you any writing projects on the go at the moment?

I do. I have lately come to consider myself a short-form hobbyist. I am a specialist palliative care nurse; so you know, I’m challenged by all that my career and shift work entails. I have novels in draft, but I’ve little inclination to finish them. I do have flash, short story and poetry entries in several Australian and international awards pending. I have recently transcribed all my notebooks into digital formats and am mining old files from a decommissioned PC. There might be a few competition-worthy pieces amongst it all, but I’ve nothing exciting to share.

• Over the years several other Australian writers have placed in our Awards. Is there a thriving flash fiction community where you live or nearby?

I’ve no idea. I have noticed the phenomenon of Australian writers placing and winning in international writing competitions including the BFFA. I know them only through their bios, though. And from my perspective, there seems more award and competition opportunities in the UK for flash and micro then there is in Australia. A larger, likely more dedicated readership? There is a university close by with an undergraduate degree in writing and postgraduate pathways, but I’ve no real idea of the writing communities around me, or whether any other flash writers exist hereabouts. I suppose they must? I’m enamoured with the form but I write, proofread, submit, wait for results and move on, in contented isolation.

I write where and when a line or inspiration comes to me. Such moments cannot be ignored. I’ve lost so much by not writing words, lines, plots or characters down, believing I could rely on my memory, believing I could get to it later. My belief was often misplaced. Consequently, having lost too much, I write on all sorts of media in all sorts of settings. And so to my recent tidying up of notebooks and scraps of paper. But in more considered moments when I do sit at my desk to write, sometimes before/after a shift, sometimes when I have a stretch of days off, I always listen to music. Headphones on. I have my own room that I write in, lined with books, antique typewriters and all sorts of other paraphernalia. Its cosy and cluttered – a sacred space. A necessary space.

• Our next award is now open. We’d love you to give us a writing prompt for would-be entrants.

Hmmm…I’ll proceed from my own entry and suggest would-be entrants to the next award consider the mundane. The every-day is a rich source of inspiration. Write about doing the dishes. Then consider nakedness and its entire spectrum of meaning. What might considering both together bring? Above all, create meaningful layers in your story, then reveal them – coyly or boldly. My prompt, therefore, is the word ‘undressing’ and its variations.

It’s been a singular privilege responding to these questions and I hope all entrants to the next round imagine themselves in my place – also answering such questions. There’s nothing quite like winning a round of the BFFA.