AI and the Future of Storytelling: Partners or Competitors?

ON July 09, 2025 / BY EDITORS GEORGE DAVEY & SHIBRA KHAN / LEAVE A COMMENT

Every year, The Brunel Writer Prize is awarded to the student with the highest graded article submission for the Creative Industries module on Brunel University’s Creative Writing Programme. Kay Drori Borghini was the winner of The Brunel Writer Prize 2025 with her AI and the Future of Storytelling: Partners or Competitors?

AI and the Future of Storytelling: Partners or Competitors? AI is everywhere these days, infiltrating nearly every corner of the creative industries. From composing original music with tools like AIVA to producing striking digital art through platforms like MidJourney, it’s clear that AI isn’t just dipping its toes into creativity—it’s diving in headfirst. In the publishing industry, it’s helping tidy up messy manuscripts and predict the next big thing readers will obsess over. But when it comes to writing, things get a bit… tense. Storytelling feels personal— deeply, uniquely human. So, what should we think now that AI has joined the party? Is it a creative sidekick to elevate our ideas, or a competitor rewriting the rulebook on how to tell a story?

When the world develops unexpectedly, it’s easy to shut the blinds and cling to what is familiar, point fingers at the disruptor, and imagine the worst. But isn’t that what storytelling thrives on—change, disruption, the unexpected? AI might feel like the villain of this particular narrative, but could it also be an unlikely ally? Sure, it challenges the traditional idea of a lone writer laboring over a masterpiece, but it also opens up doors we never thought to knock on.

When looking at AI as a writer’s collaborator, my first thought was doubt—it felt strange to introduce something so mechanical into something so personal. But over time, I’ve found it can be surprisingly helpful, the possibilities open up in ways that might feel unexpected, but they’re not without merit. AI isn’t here to replace the creative spark—it’s here to enhance it. Writers can use AI to brainstorm ideas when the well runs dry, drawing on suggestions that might lead to something fresh. It can sift through heaps of research, summarize complex topics, and present information in a way that allows writers to focus on the narrative, not the legwork. When it comes to grammar and clarity, AI can catch errors or suggest improvements, giving writers more space to focus on their voice and style. It’s not about doing the work for you, but about removing the roadblocks, so one can put energy into what matters most: crafting the story.

But as we think about how AI can assist writers, there’s one place where its potential is still met with resistance: universities. Universities in the UK seem to have slammed the door shut on AI, declaring it unwelcome in academic spaces. For creative writing students, this reluctance represents a missed opportunity. AI can be a collaborator who inspires fresh ideas and offers practical tools for refining their craft. Shouldn’t institutions built on progress and innovation prepare the next generation of writers for a rapidly evolving world? Trying to hold back the tide of technological change is a losing battle—learning to navigate it takes us much further. The fear that AI will make writers complacent is present, yet universities could teach students how to use its potential effectively and adequately. By equipping creative writing students with the skills to harness these tools, universities wouldn’t just be preparing them to adapt to the future—they’d be empowering them to redefine it. Change is inevitable, but resisting it only leaves us behind. For writers, this is a chance not to replace creativity, but to enhance it.

The future of creative writing isn’t about man versus machine. It’s about extending ourselves over the incoming horizon. Writers have always adapted to new tools—typewriters, word processors, and even the internet revolutionized how we write and share stories. AI is the next step in this evolution, a tool to expand what’s possible. Maybe it will be a man-machine alliance, but it won’t change the core of what makes storytelling so powerful: the uniquely human ability to weave meaning into words. AI isn’t the end of the story—it’s a new chapter waiting to be written.

Kay is an Italian writer who works across poetry and fiction—sometimes strange, often moody—and is interested in voice, atmosphere, and the messy stuff we feel but don’t always say. 

Colombian Chronicles: A Mature Student’s Adventure

ON May 31, 2025 / BY EDITORS GEORGE DAVEY & SHIBRA KHAN / LEAVE A COMMENT

Every year, The Brunel Writer Prize is awarded to the student with the highest graded article submission for the Creative Industries module on Brunel University’s Creative Writing Programme. Shibra Khan was a runner-up for The Brunel Writer Prize 2025 with her travel memoir, Colombian Chronicles: A Mature Student’s Adventure.

Universidad del Rosario art studio, Bogota. Photo by Diana R.

El Dorado International Airport, Bogota              First introductory class at the University of Rosario. Photos by University of Rosario staff

Villa De Leyva, Colombia Photo by University of Rosario staff Fruit Market, Bogota

A beautiful mural painting, Bogota                Photographed by author, Gold Museum, Bogota

Imagine me, a Shibra, stumbling into the Colombian wonderland, wide-eyed, where my ‘true self’ was redefined not as some intrepid explorer but as a sloth masquerading as a human. The vibrant rows of exotic local fruits like guanabana and lulu, paired with the eye-catching Embera beadwork crafted by Chami Tribe artisans in the streets of Bogotá, were an exhilarating sensory overload.  In the main market of downtown Bogota, hawkers tempted me with guarapo with a hint of limón, a sugarcane juice so delicious I almost licked the llamas, nonchalantly parading around Botero’s plump sculptures as if they were auditioning for a surrealist art film. This unforgettable experience stands as a testament to the tireless efforts of both Brunel and Rosario universities.

University of the Rosary, Bogotá    Photographed by the author & University of Rosario staff    Innovation and Entrepreneurship campus

This trip was a much-needed escape from the everyday grind of mature student life, balancing studies, family, and a social life that often revolved around debating the merits of healthy eating. Tejo, a beloved Colombian sport of throwing metal disks at a circular target, earned me the prestigious title of ‘Queen of Tejo’ (much to the amusement of my tender muscles). My creativity was reignited by the vibrant street art of Bogota, where the secret language of graffiti left me marvelling at the inventiveness of the mural’s artistry.

Winning at Tejo is always fun     Photographed by the Brunel University of London staff                     Lake at Villa De Leyva

Beyond the responsibility of representing my university, this Colombian adventure was a crash course in ‘Adulting Plus 101’, forcing me to balance academics with real-world demands. Climbing Bogota’s challenging hills, I learned that pushing my limits, both physically and mentally, can be incredibly rewarding. The whimsical charm of Villa de Leyva and the serene beauty of San Andres offered much-needed respite from the constant hum of academic stress. This trip instilled renewed confidence and a deeper appreciation for cultural exchange. I encourage fellow mature students to seize this opportunity; you might return a more well-rounded (no pun intended), slightly less stressed, and infinitely more enjoyable version of yourself. And who knows, you might even learn something about life you can’t find in any textbook.

Shibra Mariam Khan is a multilingual poet, writer, and community educator. Her journey has taken her from Pakistan to Norway and now to West London. She currently supports Syrian and Afghan refugees in integrating into their local communities. She is passionate about exploring her poetic voice as a global citizen, reflecting on her diasporic identity and the challenges of living across borders. Shibra co-edits the Brunel Writer blog and enjoys writing her reflections while travelling. Her interests include wholesome nutrition, advocating for social justice, and embracing the transformative power of language.
Stay connected with her latest writings via Instagram: @shibra_kh

Blood, Verse & Roses: Can Poetry Pay the Rent in 2025?

ON MAY 02, 2025 / BY EDITORS GEORGE DAVEY & SHIBRA KHAN

Every year, The Brunel Writer Prize is awarded to the student with the highest graded article submission for the Creative Industries module on Brunel University’s Creative Writing Programme. Rowan Reddington was a runner-up for The Brunel Writer Prize 2025 with his satirical analysis of the economics of being a poet in the 21st century.

The typical weeknight meal of a working poet.

I.

NO.*

II.

*Not unless you
do a Walt Whitman:

eat beans in a shed,
bin-dive for bread.

(Tricky since Aldi
began to lock the lids.

Don’t ask how the poet
knows about this…)

III. Switching to prose (-poetry?) for the deep dive…

The conventional answer is ‘Sorry, kid. Step away from the quill.’ You can eat, write, and rhyme… just not all three at once. It’s tough enough being a novelist. And people read novels.

This bleak prognosis is usually served with the caveat that writers need day jobs, side hustles, or rich benefactors (like an entrenched class system!). It won’t be long till you hear the c-word flying about.

Copywriting.

Because you honed your ear and eye and heart in order to line shareholders’ pockets, right? Because the primary role of the poet is to ease consumers’ suspicions that the annihilation of the living earth won’t be allayed by Fanta bottles being made from 80% recycled plastic… and the secondary role of the poet is to persuade the people on the escalators at Liverpool St. station that BAE systems are a cosy, family business not the stonehearted beneficiaries of industrial murder, yeah?

‘OK. So… not a fan of copywriting, then,’ says the bemused, well-meaning, but essentially disapproving distant relative/beleaguered colleague/long-suffering friend that you’ve cornered or been cornered by at some imaginary social function. (An optimistically early-season BBQ, let’s say).

The next unsolicited piece of advice, posing as a question and accompanied by aerial chunks of charred chipolata, that will leave this person’s mouth (once they’re done glancing furtively up at that dark, blimp-like raincloud on the horizon) will be: ‘You could be an Instapoet?’

You go to speak but they cut you off.

‘No wait, let me guess,’ they say, between glugs of warm cider (your second cousin was right: your great-uncle does have a drinking problem). ‘Peddling paper-thin platitudes that pander to the misanthropic tech conglomerates’ commodification of our very minds, via that euphemistically-named techno-succubus, the “attention economy”… that’s not poetry, either. Is it?’

Touché, Len! you want to shout.

But ‘cause you’re a deep and unfathomable Artist, you say: ‘Actually, I like Rupi Kaur. It’s not her fault I get stuck watching cat videos. And no one gets into Eliot first—’ dramatic pause as the first raindrops splatter off Len’s former-county-hockey-player nose. ‘Maybe, Len, milk and honey are gateway drugs?’

You’re pleased with that piece of dialogue. You make a mental note.

‘What?’ says Len, sheltering beneath an untouched platter of homemade coleslaw.

In my humble opinion, you’ve both got a point. On the one hand, it’s true that Instapoets may have saved poetry: the meteoric rise of poets like Kaur has coincided with a significant bump in sales. On the other, social media poetry must be get-able on first encounter. A recipe for vapid verse if there ever was one.

(𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚟𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚍 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎
𝟷 x 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎
𝟷 x 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜/𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗
𝟷 x 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡

𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎
𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗-𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠/𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍)

Anyway, getting back to what this article is ostensibly about, to get paid as an Instapoet you apparently had to be there early on. The best we can hope for now is some kind of trickledown poetic renaissance.

But probably the Lens of this world are right: it’s day jobs for the foreseeable. We’ll need to keep weighing our good coffee and fancy boxes of herbal tea as loose carrots at the self-service kiosk for a while yet, won’t we, poets?

Rowan is a poet and tree surgeon living in East London. His most recent publication is the short story ‘Beat Phase’, featured in the New Adult anthology ‘It’s Fine, I’m Fine’ (edited by Kat Gynn). It tells the story of a verbose and naive Ginsberg-fanatic’s move to London, that ‘cobbled, storied morgue where you can’t even yawn without swallowing ghosts’, and the subsequent anticlimax known as “adult life”.

30 Years of Before Sunrise: The Greatest Character-Centred Romance of the 20th Century

ON APRIL 11, 2025 / BY EDITORS GEORGE DAVEY & SHIBRA KHAN / LEAVE A COMMENT

Every year, The Brunel Writer Prize is awarded to the student with the highest graded article submission for the Creative Industries module on Brunel University’s Creative Writing Programme. George Davey was a runner-up for The Brunel Writer Prize 2025 with his review of Before Sunrise. SPOILER WARNING.

British Film Institute – Before Sunrise ©

There are Romance films. 

There are Character Studies.

And then there’s Before Sunrise — which is, without debate (or much debate) the greatest character-centred Romance of the 20th Century. 

When Before Sunrise premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in January 1995, few could have predicted the momentous ripples it would send trickling through cinema. It made the shocking revelation that a Romance didn’t need any of the following: lovers who are complete opposites, a host of friends like Mamma Mia’s Rosie and Tanya to provide comic relief, and (most importantly) an overly dramatic misunderstanding the likes of which seen in Leo McCarey’s An Affair to Remember (1957). 

Cinefilosofficial – Before Sunrise ©

Directed by Richard Linklater, Before Sunrise explores a chance encounter between two young strangers, Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Céline (Julie Delpy), who wander the cobbled streets of Vienna talking about everything under the sun (and moon). The film sticks its middle finger up at “traditional” romance narratives and focuses on the raw, unfiltered conversations Jesse and Céline share in the space of a day and night. 

As the 30th-anniversary approaches, it’s time to shout from the rooftops about Linklater’s intimate attention to character, dialogue, and the fleeting nature of human connection, because at its heart, Before Sunrise is a film about conversation. The plot is simple: Jesse, an American travelling Europe, meets Céline, a French student, on a train. They strike up a conversation that leads to Jesse convincing Céline to disembark with him in Vienna, where they have only hours before his flight back to the United States. This limited time frame provides the structure for their relationship to unfold, lending their dialogue an urgency that feels bittersweet and gripping. 

Before Sunrise is an unapologetic commitment to character-driven storytelling. There is no sweeping melodrama, no absurd misunderstandings, no artificial obstacles. Instead, the film captures the beauty of two people discovering each other in real-time. Jesse and Céline are not idealised lovers but fully realised individuals with flaws and insecurities. Hawke and Delpy’s performances are honest to the point of feeling improvised, their chemistry palpable without ever feeling forced. The dialogue, co-written by Linklater and Kim Krizan, is the film’s chicken soup. The conversations between Jesse and Céline are vulnerable and range from musings on love and death to the absurdities of modern life. Every exchange uncovers another layer of their personalities, revealing their dreams, hopes, and fears. Crucially, the film resists the temptation to provide answers to the questions the characters pose. Instead, it revels in ambiguity, mirroring the uncertainty of life itself.

The Cinematheque – Before Sunrise ©

What makes Before Sunrise timeless is its relatability and nostalgia,  as most viewers can recall a moment in their lives when a fleeting connection felt profound and life-changing (hopefully). The knowledge that Jesse and Céline’s time is finite heightens the poignancy of their every interaction. The ending, in which they part ways without exchanging contact information, is the glacé cherry atop the perfect cake because it leaves their story open-ended and allows viewers to project their dreams and fears onto the narrative.

Looking back after three decades, the film’s legacy is profound. It challenged the conventions of The Romance (capital T, capital R), proving that authenticity and subtlety can resonate more deeply than grand gestures, formulaic plots, and the  “opposites attract” trope.  It inspired a generation of filmmakers to explore character-driven romances, and were it not for Before Sunrise, we may never have seen the likes of Blue Jay (2016) or Lost in Translation (2003).  

Before Sunrise is an Olympic torch of authenticity, its simplicity is its strength, and its characters remain as captivating today as they were in 1995. As we celebrate three decades of this cinematic masterpiece, let’s raise a glass and make the boldest statement in the world of cinema since Darth Vader’s reveal in The Empire Strikes BackBefore Sunrise is the greatest Romance of all time.

Vogue – Before Sunrise ©

George Davey is a British writer based in London. His poetry and prose have appeared in The Horror Tree, Acumen Literary Journal, Phi Magazine, and Anomaly Poetry. Alongside his own writing, George performs as a poet at events across the city. When he’s not writing, he immerses himself in the surreal worlds of Haruki Murakami novels. Stay updated on his latest work by following him on Instagram @ge0rgedavey

The Brunel Creative Writing Prize 2024

Text against colourful purple and green background: Brunel University London - The Creative Writing Prize in partnership with Johnson and Alcock literary agency.

At Brunel Winter Graduation I was delighted to learn that I had been awarded the 2024 Creative Writing Prize in partnership with literary agency Johnson & Alcock.

I began studying Creative Writing part-time at Brunel University in 2022 after leaving a job in Marketing and Communications. I began the course feeling burnt out and hungry for inspiration. Over the next two years I found plenty – from reading George Saunder’s A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, Benjamin Zephaniah’s Refugee Boy and Helen Cullen’s The Truth Must Dazzle Gradually in my Elements of Fiction class and gaining invaluable feedback from my peers in our group discussions; laying the foundation for what would later become my dissertation in Planning a Novel; and returning for my second year to study The Art of the Monologue with Bernardine Evaristo and Angela Ekaette Michaels. I have never been particularly good at public speaking – before taking the class I would often feel my throat close up when addressing a crowd. I remember once, during my undergraduate at Leeds University, watching the piece of paper I was reading from shaking like it had a life of its own. But the techniques I learnt during our classes changed that, and in August of 2024, I was able to feel genuinely relaxed on stage when reading at the launch party of Borderless – an anthology I co-created alongside five other students at Brunel University (Alexia Guglielmi, Sundus Hassan-Nooli, Mahjaben Hussain, Harshita Kaushik and Neelam Sharma) in tribute to Benjamin Zephaniah.

Before it was time to start my dissertation, I learnt about the publishing world in Writers at Work where we gained insights about traditional and self-publishing routes, as well as other work avenues that writers often explore. For my project, I dived into the archives at the Bishopsgate Institute, which later helped bring the historical aspects of my novel to life. 

My novel, which I plan to finish by the end of 2025 (now it’s in writing I’ll have to hold myself accountable), is split between two perspectives – Zoya and her daughter Guddu. Zoya leaves India after Partition and tries to forget the life she left behind, but Guddu, who wishes to unearth what has been hidden, immerses herself in a world of punk, activism and rebellion. In the first section of my novel, the reader follows Zoya through 1950s London as she tries to build a home in a hostile environment. My dissertation supervisor, Daljit Nagra, was able to guide me through areas I found difficult and advise me on ways to improve the flow of my writing.

However, post-dissertation, I found it challenging to continue writing without the structure and deadlines my MA gave me. I believe having the Creative Writing Prize is a testament to the ongoing support Brunel shows their student post-graduation, as meeting with Charlotte Seymour at Johnson & Alcock has rekindled my drive to write. Charlotte has encouraged me to look at my work from different perspectives, as well as pinpointing parts I could develop. The prize also means that once I have finished my manuscript, I gain a full readthrough, editorial feedback, and the possibility of representation by Johnson & Alcock. Knowing this has taken the pressure off what can seem like an overwhelming process of writing a manuscript to completion and sending it off into the ether hoping someone, somewhere will read it. However, even without the prize, attending Brunel has meant that I have gained a very supportive network of creative writers, where we send one another passages for feedback and make sure we meet our self-imposed deadlines. 

Prior to attending Brunel, completing and publishing my own novel seemed a bit like a pipedream, but post-graduation it feels far more obtainable.

(Mira Mookerjee)

Creative Writing Prize Winner Mira Mookerjee at Brunel University of London Winter Graduation 2024
(image copyright Mira Mookerjee)

Congratulations to Brunel University of London Creative Writing Prize Winner Mira Mookerjee and to Runner-up Lauren Earle, from the Brunel University of London Creative Writing Team and all at Brunel Writer!

The Creative Writing Prize in partnership with Johnson & Alcock

Creative Writing at Brunel University of London is pleased to announce the Creative Writing Prize in partnership with literary agency Johnson & Alcock.

The competition gives aspiring writers the opportunity to flex their creative muscles and potentially gain representation from a literary agent.

Dr Frazer Lee, Postgraduate Programme Lead and Reader in Creative Writing said: “The Creative Writing department is thrilled to partner with Johnson and Alcock literary agency for the Creative Writing Prize. The prize represents a truly fantastic opportunity for our talented postgraduate taught students, and we are excited to announce the winner at Winter Graduation.”

Here’s all you need to know:

About Johnson & Alcock:

Johnson & Alcock is a leading literary agency, now in its seventh decade and constantly expanding and innovating. Our four book agents work with our head of rights and a full administrative team for a vibrant list of authors from all over the world, both new and emerging writers and the long-established, in fiction and non-fiction. These include prizewinning and bestselling authors and literary estates across genres and in all forms of media, both in the UK and internationally.

Am I eligible?

Entries will be accepted by:

  • Students on Brunel’s Creative Writing MA course who are submitting a book project for the dissertation module in the current (2024 – 2025) and next academic year (2025 – 2026).

What’s up for grabs?

The winner receives:

  • A 1-to-1 session with an agent (in person or online)
  • A full manuscript read (should you decide to complete the book) and editorial feedback
  • The potential to be offered representation by Johnson & Alcock once the MS is completed (NB: subject to suitability. Please note that no guarantee of representation is made and the agency’s decision is final)

Runners up (up to two students) will receive:

  • An online consultation with an agent

How will the winner be chosen?

Literary agents from Johnson & Alcock will make their decision based on the sample chapters submitted as part of your final dissertation project.

When will the winner be announced?

At Winter Graduation in December. Keep an eye on #BrunelWriter socials for the announcement.

The Brunel Writer Prize 2024

Every year, The Brunel Writer Prize is awarded to the student with the highest graded article submission for the Creative Industries module on Brunel University’s Creative Writing Programme. This year’s winner is Krisi Georgieva who reviews the controversial contribution that Warner Bro’s Barbie (2023) film has made to feminism in society. Congratulations Krisi!

Reviewing the 2023 Barbie Film: Feminism 101

© WarnerBros. — Barbie

In a world where women are socially and systematically subservient to men, perhaps it is fitting that Barbie was one of, if not the most, popular film to be released in 2023. The film follows the iconic character and doll, Barbie (Margot Robbie), and her journey to the human world where, oh boy, men have taken over. Living a perfect, glamorous life, Barbie begins to malfunction; bad breath, cold showers, burnt waffles, flat feet, and uh-oh, “thoughts of death”. She begins to experience an all too real existence rather than a plastic one: the beginning of the end. The film also portrays Ken (Ryan Gosling), who travels to the real world with Barbie in order to fix this malfunction, only to become infatuated with the concept of patriarchy, and returns home to impart this revolutionary knowledge to all the other Kens. 

From there, it is Barbie’s mission to save Barbie Land from Ken and his new regime. But who will save us in the audience? Barbie is clearly intended as a feminist film which aims to empower young women, and for the most part, it does just that. It fails, however, to take any real responsibility for the damage the Barbie franchise has done to young girls and women for decades since its debut. This is repeatedly brought up by the character of Sasha – a young feminist girl who criticises Barbie throughout the film. 

Barbie can do, be, and say anything she wants; she’s an excellent representation of what women could be, in an ideal world. She’s also an excellent reflection of the unreachable beauty standards perpetuated by the patriarchy. The film offers no resolution here, not really. In fact, the anti-hero, the Mattel CEO, is not punished for his actions in any way. By the end, he changes his mind, only because he was swayed by the prospect of more money, but has no real character development, no growth. Another – unsurprising – point to capitalism. 

In some ways, I would say this film sets us back a little. Capitalism, patriarchy, and sexism reign in reality already; must they go unchecked in a fantasy world, too? It sets a terribly dangerous precedent. In the film, Barbie and her fellow Barbie friends present a lovely sisterhood which is spoiled by Ken’s insecurity because “Barbie has a great day, every day, but Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him”, which in fact Barbie apologises for by the end. The truth is, Ken spends the majority of the film feeling insecure and competing with the other Kens over Barbie’s affection when they all could have had a friendship just as lovely as that of the Barbies. This story fails to fathom that men can be more than just rivals and competitors. Even so, a narrative about Barbie in Barbie Land still, somehow, ends up revolving around Ken. Even a fictional world cannot procure a situation where a woman is the centre of attention: the dominant presence.

© Warner Bros. — Barbie

Even a fictional world cannot procure a situation where a woman is the centre of attention: the dominant presence.”

Perhaps all this would be somewhat excusable had the film been targeted solely at feminist scholars and academics who would hopefully be more familiar with feminist theory than the general public, and be able to construct a critique more sophisticated than this one. Instead, this was seen by people of all ages and genders which in some ways is good and exposes the fact that women are not yet liberated and that there is much more work to be done. In other ways, not so much. Children, little girls, will see this film and think it is their responsibility to soothe a boy’s bruised ego.

The Barbie film has set the bar just a little lower, has set progress just a little farther back, and has set an unhealthy precedent for little people who are just starting to become aware of the world. Overall, the film is like a 101 Feminist Theory class; it covers the basics, but you still need to go higher. Low-hanging fruit and all that.

Krisi is an English student who plans to continue their studies with a Master’s in Gender Politics. Krisi has always been fascinated by the nuances of gender and sexuality politics, and this is reflected in their writing — and their coasting pronouns. True to the stereotype, Krisi has in fact had various shades of blue hair.

Joining the LinkedIn Sea by Grace Amui

Every year, The Brunel Writer Prize is awarded to the student with the highest graded article submission for the Creative Industries module on Brunel University’s Creative Writing Programme. Grace Amui was a runner-up for The Brunel Writer Prize 2024 with her journey and tips to “Joining the LinkedIn Sea.”

© Disney

You see it, the end on the horizon. The finish line with a gown, certificate and Professor Andrew Jones calling your name – hopefully pronouncing it correctly.
 
Graduation.
 
It’s exciting. As High School Musical demonstrates, expect singing, or screeching depending on your vocal ability. No judgment though.
 
If you’re anything like me, you realise there’s a world beyond our Uxbridge campus. A sea of people who seem to know each other and know what they’re doing with these very people who know each other.

But how can we, the new fish, submerge into this creative community?
 
I’ll give you a hint. It’s used for entertainment, procrastination and most importantly connection.
 
Yep. Social Media or… social networking.

Which one?


For creatives, there’s a sea of choice between TikTok’s #Booktok, Twitter – now X, the rarest letter of the alphabet – and Instagram, taking Reels and Threads from them both. However, here’s your invitation to explore a special ocean space I admittedly used to think was solely for Baby Boomers.
 
That’s right: LinkedIn.

© Disney – Don’t run, Forest, don’t run!

It’s not only for swimming accountants with decades of experience. Nor salmon with unusual Elon Musk-level knowledge of Artificial Intelligence. LinkedIn is simply another tool for building connections.

If leaving university sounds daunting, here’s how you can join this professional wave of “grown-ups.” 

  1. The Profile Photo: Unlike Instagram, where a cat driving a Ferrari proves a priceless photo for your meme account, LinkedIn profiles are about you. Yes, the profile photo should be your lovely face.

Keep it simple, head and shoulders – not the shampoo, although, again, I ain’t judging. Smile with a plain white background or industry logo where you’ve worked as a subtle self-promotion.

© Disney – Say, cheese!
  1. The Big CV: Upload a CV that gives information about roles you’ve had in the field you’ll apply for. No CV? Check out Brunel Careers and ASK for examples or use Chat GPT to start. Just remember Simona Janssen’s words: “Artificial Intelligence always needs a little HI“: Human Intelligence.
  1. Avoid the silent treatment: Now that your profile shines, post. Not about the holiday in Spain… what happens in Madrid stays there. Still, share relevant work in your sphere. New blog? Share it on your LinkedIn page. Attended a leaders’ talk? That too. Share, share, share when these happen with – you guessed it – more photos. These posts show that you’re even more than your CV. Why?

It tells the big fish you mean business!

  1. Followers or… friends: On this social network, think of followers less as strangers and more like potential friends you’ve met at a Christmas party – minus the drinks. LinkedIn’s head of marketing, Tobi Demuren, said more online friends cause LinkedIn’s algorithms to suggest your profile to others! Like networking, the more individuals you know, the better. So, get adding!
  1. Smaller communities: In any sea, there are smaller fish-communities. Join places like #Brunelalumni. That’s automatically 8000+ possible LinkedIn connections, including me! You’re basically famous now.
  1. LinkedIn Learning: These diverse courses enhance both you and your CV. From navigating “Artificial Intelligence” to “Overcoming Overthinking.” This may seem irrelevant, but the big-shark professionals produce these for those with LinkedIn premium…

Or Brunel students! Yay, FREE LinkedIn courses.

Fish in a Pond

As with anything, joining the ‘grown-ups’ table may feel daunting, but don’t let that predator, Imposter Syndrome stop you from taking that empty chair: which was really set for you in the first place. 

Remember, you have something to give this world. 

Then, Creative, just keep swimming.

© Disney – No seriously, swim and see. 

Grace Amui presents her poetry internationally and at age 22, her first musical, “This Is Me,” was performed in several shows at SEK International School in Barcelona, Spain. As a freelance editor and editor for Brunel Writer, who knew her childhood library visits would lead to a Theatre and Creative Writing BA? 

An Interview with the Voice in My Head by Scott Bransby

Every year, The Brunel Writer Prize is awarded to the student with the highest graded article submission for the Creative Industries module on Brunel University’s Creative Writing Programme. Scott Bransby is a runner-up for The Brunel Writer Prize 2024 with “An Interview with the Voice in My Head,” an honest discussion with… himself.

Photo Credit: Big Think found at https://bigthink.com/neuropsych/talking-to-yourself/

In January 2024, Scott Bransby sat down with himself to write a short piece of fiction for his portfolio. The following is an exclusive transcript between Scott and the voice in his head, Cecelia.

Scott: What am I supposed to write exactly? I mean, there is so much I could do, but none feel right. What do people really want to hear from me?

Cecelia: Hi.

S: Not now, I’m concentrating.

C: Hellooo…

S: Shut it. Haven’t you got somewhere to be? Imagining one of your fancy lives where you’re a stay-at-home mum of two or the CEO of a major conglomerate corporation.

C: Nah-ah. I’m right here now with you. Whatcha doing?

S: Trying to write a portfolio piece, thanks for your disruption.

C: What are you thinking of writing?

S: If you must know and aren’t leaving anytime soon, I was initially going to start writing my fantasy chapter- but I just can’t shake the feeling that something won’t work. I don’t even know if anyone would even like what I bring to the genre.

C: Well… I like your writing.

S: You would.

C: What’s that supposed to mean?

S: Well, you are an extension of myself. Your thoughts and feelings fluctuate based on how I feel. If I don’t like something, you don’t like it either. If you like my writing, then I like what I’ve written. It’s quite simple. 

C: That’s not the case though, Scott-o. You don’t like what you’re writing currently. I should know – I have a psychic ability where I can read your mind and know exactly what you are thinking. I’ll try it now: cheese… Dua Lipa… intertextuality?

S: I’m writing my Games Design thesis as well-

C: I blocked that out: mega yawn-fest. I like the drama of living these stories out in your brain. Remember that piece you wrote back in your first-year fiction module at university? The one with sisters fighting for the crests of their Queendom? What about last year, when you wrote that twisted fairy tale about the girl trapped in a dungeon of her own hair? I got to live as each of those characters, feel their souls and taste their very essence. 

S: Well thanks-

C: Now, the fiction you write is so… commercial. It’s like you write because you must, not because you want to. How am I supposed to get into character as yet another widow who thinks she has seen her dead husband? It’s so played out. You are not the next Harlen Coben – you are Scott Bransby. Where’s your inspiration gone?

S: I-

C: No. I am not done. I’m sick of you not writing stuff I enjoy anymore. You grew up in a town brimming with inspiration. Not many people can say they ate breakfast opposite Shakespeare’s birthplace every Saturday. Your writing is unique – you colour the world outside the lines and reference every detail to your own detriment. I enjoy living in stories like that, where you authored my world. Your work may be good, but I know you don’t feel anything towards it. There, mic-drop. You can speak now.

S: I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realise you cared so much about my work. I’ve been so caught up writing for a faceless person or writing what I feel is compulsory that I forgot I should want to read it too; that you are the constant in my narrative, my guiding hand. You’ve always been there for me, watching–

C: Ew, you’re getting soppy. This isn’t the place for you to get soppy.

S: Oh, alright. Well, that still doesn’t solve what I should write for this portfolio piece.

C: Listen, maybe I can help with that…

Scott Bransby is a BA Games Design & Creative Writing graduate from Brunel University. Separating the self from the work allows Scott to humanise his words and speak from a deeper, reflective place. A self-proclaimed chatterbox, he loves to write as much as he loves to talk, leaving the little room remaining for casting eldritch blasts on Baldur’s Gate 3 and shiny hunting Pokémon.