‘It’s a big moment. I’ve been writing seriously for around 15 years. To finally have some acknowledgement, to know people enjoyed my work, is deeply satisfying.‘

Tell us about the moment you found out…

I’d been anxious the whole week leading up to the announcement. When I scrolled down and saw my name, I cried.

Why did you enter?

Any time I’ve come close to being agented, it’s been due to a competition. I haven’t entered many, but when I have, I’ve been longlisted or shortlisted almost every time. Querying agents is still important of course, but with a competition the readers have a different relationship to the work. And with the Bath Novel Award especially, I admire the sheer passion behind it.

What does the win mean?

It’s a big moment. I’ve been writing seriously for around 15 years and never had much success. To finally have some acknowledgement, to know people enjoyed my work, is deeply satisfying.

What’s the reaction been like from your nearest and dearest?

They’re very proud of me. My wife, my daughter, my son.

In the early rounds, readers can cast a golden vote for a standout entry they can’t stop thinking about. This year an unprecedented 100% were cast for Dance of the Mayflies. What’s it like to hear this?

It’s wonderful.

Dance of the Mayflies breaks the reader’s heart then puts it back together again. Was it important to create an uplifting book?

Absolutely. The story is about death, so naturally there are a lot of sad moments. But I didn’t want it to be bleak. All the death is pointless unless there’s a sense of hope running through it. How can death make us appreciate life? How can we see the world more clearly, more presently? Is death always a tragedy? The novel is as much about life as it is about death.

What sparked the idea to have Death as the main character?

I’ve always been fascinated by death. Not in a macabre/gothic way, but in a way that gives context to our lives. When we know we’re going to die, when we truly know it, every moment can be meaningful. I think about these things every day, and it gives me clarity. It seemed only natural to write from that point of view.

How did you arrive at Death being a gentle everyman in jeans and an old grey sweater, as opposed to a shadowy figure in a cloak?

This was actually the first thing I decided. I knew his name would be Travis Smith, and that he’d live in an apartment, maybe with a cat, and he’d essentially be a regular person you might pass on the street. I knew I wanted him to be patient and gentle, and that he’d never judge or intervene. I’m not sure how I arrived at this decision. I suppose I’m not a very “plotty” person. I don’t write stories with lots of action and twists and turns, so a stoic wanderer felt like the perfect outlet.

Death supports but never intervenes. How did you decide on his rules?

I believe Death would take his role very seriously. When I imagine Travis intervening, he’s no longer Death, he’s just a person like the rest of us. Travis, no matter how much he cares, will follow his nature – and this creates a beautiful tension. We want him to intervene, yet we know he never will. Also, despite him being Death, I never wanted to show “magic” or the afterlife. In the very first scene, Travis slows time, but other than that, I aimed to create a very realistic portrayal of life. Real people with real stories. I never wanted it to become a cosy urban fantasy, with portals and an underworld and so on. “Death” is just the lens we view the story through.

The full manuscript made everyone cry; at how you show life’s precious, fleeting beauty and the emotional truth you let your characters show. Has a literary scene ever made you cry? And can you pinpoint the magic that goes into crafting these moments?

This is a terrible thing to admit, but I don’t think a book has ever made me cry. Music and films make me cry – often the happy moments rather than the sad ones. Maybe this is why I strive so hard to reach those kinds of emotions in my writing. If my wife doesn’t cry, I haven’t done my job. As for how to craft these moments, it’s difficult to say. In a way, the emotion comes from every single line in a story, all working together to create a feeling that never lets go until it’s all released in a moment of pure catharsis. A lot of emotion, I believe, comes from “contrast”. But I could talk about that forever.

There is a minor character called John Lamb, a deeply lonely elderly widower who, treasures the words spoken to him like fossils when he leaves his house.  He got to all of us. Where did John come from and what does he mean to you?

I walk to and from work every day. It’s about forty minutes each way, and I try to stay very present and absorb the world around me. I’ve never seen John Lamb, but I know the street he walks down every day. I know the shops he visits. I know the bench he sits on. There’s a John Lamb around every corner. I wonder if I’d have said good morning to him.

Catherine Cho described Dance of the Mayflies as “a kaleidoscope of a book”. You create extraordinary moments by zooming the reader into unexpected POV’s: an animal, an insect, even microscopic organisms. Can you say a little about this?

I asked myself what kind of person my Death is. Eventually I realised he would be someone who is hyper-engaged with the world around him – experiencing everything, from the very small to the impossibly large – and it would be incredibly gorgeous and overwhelming for him. He finds beauty in the most unlikely of places. It’s never explicitly stated in the book, but I like to think the scenes of animals / bacteria / volcanoes / planets are yet another part of Travis. He is a force of nature, connected to everything. It was deeply fulfilling to write in this way – I wish I could do it for every book. I also love piecing a novel together from parts, like a tapestry, or a song. My next novel takes this idea even further.

Describe your writing journey…

I’ve always loved writing. What I especially enjoy is crafting an emotional experience – whether through music, or painting, or any other medium. I tend to write a novel a year, and they usually have themes of family, art, and/or death, because these are the most interesting things to me. I’ve been listed for various competitions over the years, so I knew I wasn’t completely talentless, but I’ve never quite taken that next step. Regardless, I write because I love it. If I knew I’d never be published, I would still write.

Main character aside, this is a deeply realistic novel, set in an authentic contemporary world. You’ve mentioned being inspired by your immediate neighbourhood and the imagined inner lives of passersby. Can you say a little about the location?

No matter what I write, it tends to have an edge of the speculative. The speculative element allows us to see the world in new ways. But even in my wildest novels, the characters are engaged in very down-to-earth struggles, such as fatherhood, or grief. Mayflies definitely lies on the realistic end of my writing spectrum. I toyed with the location for a while before deciding it should be set where I live – Peterborough. This town feels like it’s dying. It feels empty and quiet. It’s run-down. Yet I love it. There’s a mundane beauty to it. If I lived somewhere pretty, I think I’d lose perspective.

Death is in love with a midwife called Dalia, so we witness their experiences while helping those at the start and end of life. How early in the writing process did this idea come to you?

Some decisions feel obvious in hindsight, but they’re not obvious until you think of them. I thought maybe Dalia would be a teacher, or a librarian. But it’s important that a novel has a kind of symmetry, and so it was natural that she should escort people into the world, while he escorts people out. It was also important to me that Dalia was a very “normal” person, because Travis is so extraordinary. But her normality is what makes her interesting – for Travis, and for me.

Death is a recurrent theme in your writing. Why it is important to you to explore this theme?

Family, art, and death are the most interesting things in the world to me. Death is universal, and I wanted to explore how I feel about it. I can only do that through writing.

Can you bear to name three novels you love and why?

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath was the first time I truly resonated with a main character. While writing Mayflies, I also read If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things by Jon McGregor, whose descriptions of urban life were so inspiring to me. I stumbled upon that book years ago in a hospital waiting room, but I never read it until last year. Alongside that, I read Grief Is The Thing With Feathers, which inspires me for its pure disregard for how a novel is “supposed to” be.

Our judge Catherine Cho said: “The prose is stunning, and it has ambitious scope, but it also feels incredibly intimate and heartfelt.” How did it feel to read those words?

Catherine is a great writer herself, and has an intense passion for language and storytelling, so these words are precious to me.

When, where and how do you write?

It varies, but I write in my head while walking. I send emails to myself throughout the day with notes or snippets of prose. Then I’ll write everything down in a notebook, or into a blank document with a bluetooth typewriter. I like to start each session with a blank document, so I’m not influenced by anything that came before. I’ll try not to read my work until I’ve written most of it, because I want to be more driven by what’s not there than what is. Then I’ll go through the manuscript a few times, editing, adding, deleting, shuffling.

I wrote Mayflies between September and December 2023, though I’ll often stew on a novel for two or three months before writing a single word. Every time I sit down to write, I like to clear my mind and write from the deepest part of myself. Most of what you’ll read in my work is how it first came out. The most important part is holding onto the feeling of what I want this novel to be. For the actual storytelling and characters and so on, I’m relying on years and years of instinct. I’ll know when I’m writing the right thing, because it’ll happen fairly easily. If I’m struggling, the idea is wrong.

If there’s one thing you hope readers take from your book, what would that be?

Perhaps this is wishful thinking, but I’d hope it creates some clarity. It’s so easy to get lost in the daily dramas of our lives. We’re almost blind to the world around us, even at home. We lose perspective of the things that truly matter, such as spending time with our children. But if we zoom out and see the bigger picture, everything looks a little different. An awareness of death helps give us that perspective.

Can you say anything about agent representation?

I haven’t got an agent, but I’m looking for representation.

Any plans for the prize money?

I have family in America, and we’ve never travelled to visit them. Now we will.

What’s next for you?

My life is quite simple, and all I really need are my family, and walking, and writing. If nothing ever happened with my writing career, I could live with that, though it would be interesting to see. I’d like to teach young people to write, and to give something back. But mainly, I just want to write, and I’ll always write, even if no one ever reads it. Winning the Bath Novel Award has been a lovely experience, and I’m glad some people did have the chance to read about Travis, and Dalia, and Layla, and all the other lives in the book. I’d like to thank Caroline and Catherine, and everyone else involved. I’d also like to thank the other listees, whose novels sound like winners to me. Much love to all.

Interview: Caroline Ambrose

PS

Ben and Dance of the Mayflies have a new champion…