Reflecting on my most recent piece of published work, Sunday on the Boulevard with my Pet Lobster.

A couple of years ago, after a massive over-indulgence in Looney Tunes cartoons and QI clips, I was inspired to tell a bizarre little tale about a lobster that liked to smoke cigars. I was already toying with ideas of human-animal co-existence; one such story got developed during my Master’s degree into what’s currently known as The Bloody Zoologist. But after reading about the writer Gérard de Nerval, who infamously had a pet lobster that he took for walks on a lead, I knew I had to play around with this idea some more. I can’t tell you the exact process. All I know is that somewhere down the line, we decided this lobster would be a smoker. That he’d have a smoker’s cough. And that asparagus would be the only cure. The end result: Sunday on the Boulevard with my Pet Lobster.

Writing Sunday on the Boulevard with my Pet Lobster

Admittedly, this short story’s surreal tone came off the back of misunderstanding absurdism. I learned more about that when I interviewed Great Ape‘s Dale Hall and Nels Challinor for my podcast. Indeed, I submitted the story for their publication’s first issue, and naturally, they rejected it. But having had excellent feedback from readers, who praised the style and the humour, I knew it’d have a place somewhere.

I modelled the comedic style on a couple of my favourites from childhood. Looney Tunes, for one, and also the Muppet Show. Both of them arguably surreal and witty in equal measure. Then I added my own voice, injecting my personal loves for luxurious settings, such as the restaurant Chez l’Armoire, and fine food.

Publishing Sunday on the Boulevard with my Pet Lobster

As I mentioned, I first submitted this story to the absurdist literary journal Great Ape. They rejected it, and rightfully so. But no longer really knowing what the story was, beyond weird, I just decided to fling it anywhere and everywhere. Hoping that at least one competition would take it on.

Eventually, I thought it’d be worth a submission to the Bournemouth Writing Prize. This is an international competition that Fresher Press runs annually, in association with my alma mater Bournemouth University. I submitted it in the January and then didn’t hear anything for months. With that in mind, I didn’t expect to hear anything at all.

Until, that is, I got tagged in a Facebook post in May, which told me that my story had made it onto the “immensely competitive” longlist for the short story category! A much-needed bit of good news! While that meant that I hadn’t made the shortlist, I later found out this story was getting published in two anthologies. Namely, Strange Encounters and Pick Me Up. It’s an added little ego boost that the covers of both books mention or allude to the lobster in some way.

I can’t argue with the competition judges and I’m very honoured to have made the longlist. However, if the audience reaction to a reading at the anthology launch event, and the enthusiastic discussion that came afterwards, were anything to go by, I feel like the story could’ve gone even higher. If you haven’t seen the video yet, just have a look below.

What’s next for the Bournemouth Writing Prize?

While I’m happy to leave my little lobster story alone now, I’m not done with the Bournemouth Writing Prize. In fact I already have my entries for the 2023 competition ready for submission. Just waiting on a bit of last-minute feedback before I enter. But let’s keep everything crossed that there’ll be another short piece published this year.

If you liked this, find out what else I got up to in 2022. Also keep up with my news and other content on my social media channels. I’m on Facebook and I’m especially active on Instagram.

Been getting a bit of positive attention on Facebook (a lot of negative on there too, but we’ll save that for another post) and Instagram since Sunday evening, where I announced I had had a little something published.

It was in the literary journal run by the MA Creative Writing students of the University of Westminster – namely, the Wells Street Journal. An example of, what we call in the business, Flash Fiction. Basically a story written in fewer than 1,000 words. Something I amazed myself at being able to do. If you’ve read The Berylford Scandals: Lust & Liberty, you may have noticed I’m not a fan of short-form.

One of the best Flash Fictions, oddly enough, was written by the guy who got me into the Wells Street Journal in the first place – an old school friend, Dale Hall. A tale depicting the final thoughts and struggles of a mentally-disturbed person who, in the end, “tried to fly”. This was in our A-Level days and I, a media student, liked the story so much I adapted it into a short film we needed to make for coursework. A shame, really, that that film doesn’t survive anymore.

That was one heck of a tangent — back to the story I contributed. It had to be thrown together within a couple of hours, since I had only found out I could submit anything literally on the deadline day.

The theme was “The Liminal”; more specifically, either how a city changed you/your character or how a city has changed in your/your character’s eyes. With no time to lose, it seemed to make sense to base it on true events, and I recalled the time I had spent in Florence when I was at college. The first night ended in drunken disaster with the lower drinking age over there – a number of sixteen-year-olds who couldn’t hold their liquor. My opinion at the time in real life was only so caustic towards a couple of the party who I felt deserved it, while I was very fond and sympathetic to the rest. Made more sense in this story to show a complete change of opinion, to fit with the theme.

It is in letter form, since that’s the only way I think I could produce something in fewer than 1,000 words. That, along with the identities of the writer and addressee is based on a joke I saw comedian Frankie Howerd tell. When entertaining troops somewhere, he read a letter as follows: “Lieutenant Colonel Cecil Naunton – if you see him – Lt. Col. Naunton… Dear Cuddlebunch. Come home – all is forgiven. Yours, Geoffrey.” Obviously told at a time when homosexuality and the legality thereof were still novel ideas, alongside Howerd’s impeccable comic timing, this received a wealth of laughs. And in my story, I thought I could extend the ambiguity of the writer’s gender, sexuality and the nature of his relationship with the addressee, Mr. Grimstead.

The other changes I needed to address were more autobiographical. It is true that I was once so unconfident and anxious I could barely leave the house to get on a bus. On planes, I was better – especially in company; I still find the build-up to a flight stressful even now, regardless of who I’m with! In the story, I thought I would make Geoffrey, the writer and narrator, also an unconfident traveller who discovers he loves it while in Italy. It dresses him up as vulnerable on the one side, while assured on the other in terms of his opinions of other people. Gives a much-needed duality to the character.

Other little autobiographical tidbits that made it in there include the Lobster and Linguine – my soon-closing food and travel blog was born in Florence – plus also a woman whom I dubbed Lady Hitler, renamed Lady Führer for this story. Actually a lovely girl named Jade.

Without delay, I suggest you take a look at Issue 11 of the Wells Street Journal. Obviously read the whole thing if you want, but my story – What Florence Did For Me, Mr. Grimstead – is on pages 82 and 83. Have a read; hopefully you’ll have a chuckle.

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