Each year, we award two recipients of the Young Norfolk Writing Prize with a year of professional mentorship and opportunities for their work to be published on the Writing Hub.
This initiative highlights the finest new writing talent from young writers in Norfolk.
Become the next Young Norfolk Laureate 2026–27!
Winners and shortlistees of Young Norfolk Writing Prize 2026 and Young Norwich Creative Award 2026 are eligible to apply to be the next Young Norfolk Laureate.
The Young Norfolk Laureate title will be awarded to an outstanding young writer who demonstrates both exceptional creative talent and a commitment to championing bold new writing across the county.
Between September 2026–June 2027, the Laureate will:
- Be commissioned to produce a new, original piece of writing for NCW’s Writing Hub
- Receive mentorship from a professional writer that aligns with their practise
- Be awarded a two-day residency at the National Centre for Writing
- Be paid to perform their work at local events and festivals throughout the year.
- Complimentary tickets to literary and cultural events throughout the year at the National Centre for Writing and beyond.
This year’s Laureates
Akhina Rajesh
Akhina Rajesh, 14, attends Northgate High School in Dereham. She said: ‘I have always been drawn to literature because it is fascinating how a few words connect people together. I am very interested in using writing as a cause for change, shining a light on the unseen, or to simply transfer my emotions on to paper. My dream would be to write a YA novel focusing on themes of violence that happens within what is supposed to be our safe spaces, but in a time travel style.’
Bruna Ramalho
Bruna Ramalho, 18, attends Jane Austen College in Norwich. She said: ‘To win and know that people connected with my words has been such an incredible, surreal experience, and it’s really given me more confidence to keep sharing my work.’
Akhina Rajesh
There is a place tucked along the southwestern coast of India, Kerala. Though very tiny its natural beauty and traditions exceeds way past its size. Known as ‘God’s own country’, Kerala is a land where lush green landscapes meet endless backwaters. And in 2018, it faced one of the most devastating disasters that might be ever known to mankind. The raging monsoon rains covered the land without mercy, they stripped the very land of its identity. They tore through villages, engulfed cities and seemed to erase the illusion of human control. The calm demeanour of the state didn’t last too long before floods took control. Nature’s fury caused infrastructure to collapse, fields vanished beneath muddy swells, communication lines faded, many were stranded, in a matter of hours and what was once the cradle of life, turned to battlefields of survival.
It was a moment where the only thing you could’ve done was to wait and wait till fear and water swallowed you whole, because no one had a rescue plan, as it was never known to Keralites, they had never seen mother Nature’s fury. They truly felt hopeless and helpless, left isolated to see the sides of their mother which they’ve never known of.
When everything seemed to fall apart, it was not governments or official rescue services that first reached the ones that were in need of saving. It was the ordinary people, perhaps the ones who we saw as the least successful in our community. The fishermen, the ones defined as sons and daughters of Kandalama (mother sea) turned their modest boats into rescue missions, navigating dangerous waters to save lives. Young students, housewives and even old citizens, waded through chest- deep waters, helped others on to makeshift rafts, and brought medical supplies and food to places from all over India, where the officials couldn’t even reach. Strangers turned to family overnight, offering clothes and shelter to anyone in need, without questions asked.
In a land known for its many faiths and castes, those distinctions melted away like the mist under the sun. When a hand came out of the water, another reached out and brought it to the surface. Humanity turned into their only identity that they cared about. Temples became shelters, churches turned to kitchens and mosques were made into clinics. No one paused to calculate status or history or religion before they welcomed others in. What mattered was solidarity. No one needed an explanation for the love and care they gave or was given.
The unforgettable, stitched onto everyone’s memory vellapokkam (flood) exposed the fragility of their cities, but also revealed the fact that we often forget the power we have as a community standing side by side.
That community watched the child being carried across a flooded street, the grandmother being covered in borrowed clothes and the human chains formed to cross untamed waters. There was a silent bond being built under the surface. That community showed us that we survive when we are together or we don’t survive at all. Kerala’s tragic yet remarkably heroic vellapokkam, which lasted over weeks showed humanity that even when everything else falls away, or gets drowned, the human connection and the community that we belong in remains the most powerful force that one can ever break. It makes us realise that true community is not made in times of comfort but rather in despair and helplessness. Sometimes division seems inevitable, but vellapokkam of Kerala showed us a different glimpse of a way forward. It makes us clear that a community has the power to withstand any devastations, man-made or nature given, and that there is no force that can defeat the power of it, but it only comes true when we as individuals forget our differences and become a part of something, something where we all achieve together.
Be the director of your future, and never let anything or anyone but creativity and imagination lead you. So go out there and write your way up!
Bruna Ramalho
I’m packing my bags ‘cos the House is a war zone
May I seek shelter under your leaky roof?
I’ll leave my clothes folded all neat in my bag
I’ll leave after tomorrow after 12am News
I’ll build us a wall made of pillows and blankets
I’ll let you turn over and get right to sleep
I’ll nod my head Yes at your every desire
I’ll stitch your mouth shut when you lie through your teeth
I’ll sit in the heart of your room where it’s leaking
Cupping my hands to catch all the blue
I’ll tear off my trousers and stick to the ceiling
A flag where the bullets bashed right through the roof.
When your stomach’s full up
And you eat all my luck, I will leave.
I will leave after tomorrow after 12am News
I will leave your room tidy, I’ve got no more to lose.
