Runner Up:  Ellen Brickley
Dublin, Ireland
Congratulations, Ellen!
Ellen Brickley

Ellen’s Bio:

Ellen Brickley lives and works in Dublin, Ireland. She holds a BA and MA in English Literature from University College Dublin. Her creative non-fiction has appeared in the Irish literary journal Banshee, and she has performed at the Dublin Book Festival and Galway’s Cúirt literary festival. In 2017 she was awarded a Literature Bursary from the Arts Council of Ireland to complete a collection of essays, which is underway.

Ellen’s writing has also appeared in the Irish Times, Inis, and on popular blogs including OffBeat Bride and We Said Go Travel. She is currently seeking representation for a contemporary young-adult novel.

Alongside her writing life, Ellen works in a castle, and is studying for a Masters’ in Public History at Trinity College. To read more of her work, visit Banshee, or find her online at ellenbrickley.com or on Twitter @EllenBrickley.



Do Not Attempt the Following Personal Essays

 


  1. Anything about your past relationships. You do like to share your only aphorism: a maximum of two people know what’s happening in a relationship, and sometimes the number is not even that high. Keep it in mind when your essay-voice starts talking—you are probably not equipped to tell those stories.

    And people always liked you better when they were quiet, didn’t they?

    (It’s not a bad aphorism though; try to use it somewhere else.)

  2. Talking of aphorisms, do not write Your Speech to the Graduates, unless it is an actual speech that you are being paid to deliver to some graduates. The urge to give advice is growing stronger as you get older, and you need to resist it with that youthful vigour that you like to believe you no longer have.

    You have no advice. You have only tangled stories with strange punchlines, heavily filtered photographs and a wedding dress cover that bristles with small rips. You may share those, since they have proven to be enough for you.

    (Except, if your readers will indulge you, there is one piece of advice that it is always acceptable to pass on and it is this: if you ever meet a man who likes to tell you things about yourself when he barely knows you—what your problem is is a great favourite, along with wild speculation about your sexual self—smile, nod, then go and talk to someone else. Don't gift him your dissent, your annoyance, your precious attention or your young, wide eyes.

    He will feed on them and get stronger).

  3. The one about that teacher you had. You were a child. You need to believe that you were right and that what happened to you was wrong. Your side of the story will never be opened for scrutiny. It took long enough to prevail in the court of your own heart—don’t face the battle afresh in anyone else’s.

  4. That other teacher, the one who hit us. An essay about her would quickly become a string of unimaginative but heartfelt insults. She is proof that pain does not always lead to insight. Your only insight is that she was terrible.

  5. An Examination of Your Feelings About the Awful Thing that Happened to Your Friend. This is not your story. Your feelings aren’t at the races. They’re not even decorative. They’re yours to deal with.

    This topic also raises uncomfortable questions about who should receive the fee.

  6. That time an American soldier on Instagram asked you to be a mother to his teenage son while he was deployed in Kabul. That story contains many things. Wisdom is not one of them.

  7. That one.

  8. That other one.

  9. And that one. Definitely not that one.

    Well, maybe that one. That’s probably where the riches are. You can tell by the fact you've broken a light sweat just thinking about it.

  10. Anything covered by the Official Secrets Act.

  11. Your first essay about menstruation could be regarded as a misfortune. Two was indeed careless. Three doesn’t even come with a suitable quote, that’s how bad three would be.

  12. Anything that makes you feel like Carrie Bradshaw as you write it (NB that one you wrote about the Killing Fields is probably safe enough on that score. The dying therapist one might go to the judges).

  13. Since you’re down to one parent, try to avoid anything that will alienate one hundred per cent of the parents you have left.

  14. Ditto husbands.

  15. Any essay that feels like it needs to open with the word ‘Lads.’

  16. Or ‘Guys.’

    Or ‘You guys.’

    You guys.

    It's a call for friendship, isn’t it? A summoning, a howl in the dark. It’s for the things you can only say to someone who understands. Essays that need an understanding audience shouldn’t call out for one. They’re bigger than that and should stand with no begging for a welcome. The lads will find you. The guys will seek you out. They will probably be neither lads nor guys.

  17. You probably shouldn’t explain why you’re so fond of Thomas Harris. No one will like you afterwards.

  18. OH GOD THAT ONE.

  19. Stop showing off. That incident is no more interesting because it happened in Bruges instead of Ballybough. And someone had to tell you how to pronounce both of those places so your high horse is a bit wobbly.

  20. Don’t write an essay just so that you’ll have an excuse to mention that you went interrailing that one time.

  21. You know you never got life-changing wisdom from a taxi driver. Don’t pretend.

  22. That frog mural in the bar in Madrid—the one holding a questionable jewelled scepter—has its place somewhere in the annals of literature, but it’s okay if you are not the person who creates that place.

  23. It is always okay if you are not the person to create a well-deserved place in literature.

  24. But it’s also okay if you are.

    In fact, you probably should do that more.

    (But not for the questionable frog.)

  25. No one cares about your driving test (this is a good thing).

  26. If you’re writing it to impress someone, put the pen down and go back to practicing the Macarena. It’ll likely work better.

 

 

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