Ali Nicholson
2025/26
Shortlisted writer, Ali Nicholson
Hello! I’m Ali Nicholson. Until a few years ago I was a Lecturer in French (language) at the University of Reading, but am now a part time French tutor, and writer. I started writing seriously in 2020, though I’ve been reading seriously all my life, and now I write every day.
What is your shortlisted novel about?
Set in 1978, Girl in Crossfire is about Orla, a feisty Irish student who has a careful plan to leave the Troubles behind, until her much loved older brother Sean is mysteriously murdered. She and Joe, a family friend, join the IRA to discover what happened to Sean, and to get revenge. A historical thriller with hints of a love story as the plot moves from Northern Ireland through France in an exciting page-turner.
What has helped you improve as a writer?
A combination of writing courses ( I took a Curtis Brown ‘write your novel in three months’ course, and am now an active member of Jericho Writers), beta readers, and entering competitions which give feedback. And writing, little and often, every day if possible. Listen to feedback; learn from it, don’t be afraid of it.
What advice would you give to someone who is considering entering Ascent Novel Prize?
What have you got to lose? Ascent Novel Prize publish the top 100 writers, who also get feedback and there's a fairly long longlist (24) and a shortlist (12), so you have a better chance of winning than in most competitions which give no feedback at all, except perhaps to the shortlist. The Ascent Novel prize is similarly priced to other prizes.
Plus Hayley King is available to ask questions! Worth her weight in gold.
Opening Pages
Prologue
21 February 1978.
Derry, Northern Ireland.
In the gloom, behind a dirty Ford Transit van, a young man adjusted his balaclava. He peered at his watch. Hard to make it out as the nearest streetlight was still broken.
Must be time now.
Aimed his gun. Inhaled.
At that moment, the blue door to number fifteen Creggan Street opened, and a woman stepped out, tying her headscarf, talking to the small dog which fussed round her ankles. She turned sideways to close the door behind her, revealing her silhouette in the hall light.
She’s pregnant. Hugely pregnant. No one had told him that.
His mind flickered over the women in his life; no one, not even his sister, knew what he was up to that night.
Thank God for that.
Concentrate, eejit.
Steadied his hold on the gun.
Fire as soon as she shuts the door.
Too late. Must follow orders.
Fire when she’s taken five steps.
She deserves to die, she’s a feckin’ grass. She’s blabbed everything to her boyfriend in the RUC. It’s all about the Cause, and she’s a threat.
Fire when she reaches the broken lamp post.
Now!
Tried to squeeze the trigger.
Can’t do it, that child is innocent.
And then from out of the blackness, a shot rang out, and the woman fell – was that a scream, or did the dog yap – and she lay, one twitch, then nothing.
Gun still raised, Sean swung round to where the shooter must be.
Who in the name of God —
Ten yards away, maybe less, a gun. Now pointing at him.