Story = Conflict:
Sarah Kilian interviews Andrea Bishop

Andrea Bishop

Volunteer Sarah Kilian talks with Andrea Bishop, winner of 2026's Open Season Fiction Award with her story, “Show and Tell,” featured in our current spring issue #234. They discuss giving characters more agency, learning about life through chess, and accepting (human) collaboration on a story.

Andrea Bishop splits her time between Vancouver and Salt Spring Island, BC. Her work has appeared in Grain, The Fiddlehead, The Masters Review, Cleaver, as an online feature in PRISM International, and elsewhere. In 2025, her stories were recognized for the CBC Short Story Prize, The Far Horizons Award for Short Fiction, The Jacob Zilber Prize for Short Fiction, and The Peter Hinchcliffe Short Fiction Award. Andrea is grateful for support from the Canada Council for the Arts to work on a short story collection, now complete. She’s currently at work revising a novel (or two). Andrea has a deep appreciation for forests, dogs, quests, and spreadsheets, and is always attempting to improve her chess game. Andrea welcomes visitors at andreabishop.ca and dialogue on Bluesky @andreabishop.bsky.social or Instagram @_andreabishopvanbc.

Read what Open Season Award fiction judge H. Felix Chau Bradley had to say about her winning story.


First off, congratulations on winning the 2026 Open Season Fiction Award! I’m curious about your writing process and the life of this story. What was the inspiration, when did the writing begin, and how did it evolve as you worked on it?

Thank you so much, Sarah. I’m thrilled that my story is being recognized, with others, for the 2026 Open Season Awards. And excited to finally land a story in The Malahat Review.

It was fun to do a deep dive into my files to answer this question. My first drafts are almost always handwritten, because that’s the only way I can capture a story faster than my brain can overthink it, and usually a story starts because an image, idea, or experience is stuck swirling in my mind, and I need to write it to make it go away. Once the story is complete (sometimes months but more often years later) and the characters have come to life, it feels like they just showed up that way, and I’ve usually forgotten how they formed. So, I was surprised to be reminded that the first draft of this character was made out of two kids I met maybe 20 years apart, but who were each having a crappy time when I met them.

The first was a ten-year-old girl I met at a campground when I was in my twenties. She was there with her parents but always seemed to be on her own, desperate for company. The second was a girl who joined our (maybe?) grade three class in the middle of the school year from a nearby children’s residence. She rarely spoke. Even at that age, we all knew she was having a rough time. That awareness did not necessarily lead to kindness. And I distinctly remember one of the few outfits that she wore. So, she and the idea of her outfit became part of my character Tanya. But I made Tanya feisty.

I love it when it works out that a character is based a bit on reality and, through story, I’m able to give them more agency. In the process of story writing, I work through the thing I witnessed or experienced, so by the end of the process the original moment has morphed into something new.

Chess features prominently in “Show and Tell.” What is it about chess that made you want to include it in the story in this way? In your bio it says you are “always attempting to improve” your chess game; what is your personal relationship to the game? Are there any similarities between your approach to writing and to playing chess?

I love all board games, but I don’t get to play them as much as I want, and with chess, at least I only need to find one other person willing to play with me. In a pinch, I can play online. But I’m usually pretty strategic in life, for better or worse. And with writing, I’m probably too strategic—my best writing happens when I get out of my head. But with chess I’m only able, so far at least, to think a few moves ahead. There’s plenty of opportunity, in other words, for me to improve. I believe you can learn a lot about life from games—taking turns, for example, or being a good sport—so when I wanted to give my main character Tanya something she could control when the rest of her life was completely out of her control, I gave her chess. Having her parents around would have been better, but you take what you can get. Chess, at least, gave her ideas, strategy, confidence. But I think Tanya would whip me at chess.

There are several striking images in “Show and Tell.” Perhaps most notable is the prosthetic eye as the planet Jupiter, which appears at the end of the story and beautifully unites some of its thematic elements in a surprising, funny, and moving way. How important are images to you as a writer (and reader)? At what point did you think of this particular image, and how did you know this was how you wanted to end the story?

As a reader, I find when an image lands, it sticks far longer than a description or an impressive sentence might. As a writer, I find it hard to create images unless they come to me naturally, but maybe I’m just not skilled at that yet. It’s funny that you asked me this, though, because, honestly, that Jupiter business brings up so much for me.

First, I’m always grateful when friends, editors, mentors, are kind enough to read my work and give me feedback, which saves me time and often saves the story, but it’s taken me much longer to be okay with accepting specific, detailed help. I’m talking about, for example, when someone gifts me ideas for titles, or gives me a better phrase, or suggests “What if this happened instead of that?” This used to feel a bit, for lack of a better word, like “cheating” to me. I felt like I should be doing all the heavy lifting on my own. It’s taken me a while, but now I’m more comfortable accepting some (human!) collaboration on a story. As Elizabeth McCracken says in A Long Game: Notes on Writing Fiction (I’m loving this book), “A writing life, I’ve come to believe, is a yearslong process of casting away everything you once believed for sure.”

In the case of my story “Show and Tell,” one of my mentors pushed me to work harder on the ending and suggested adding an image or moving an earlier descriptive bit to the end. My original ending was too neat and tidy. I’d had an image in my mind, though, from the first conception of this story, from that kid I met in the campground, because to maintain my attention, she offered to show me her prosthetic eye. She wasn’t the cleanest kid and I didn’t think it was a great idea for her to go poking around in her eye socket, so I successfully discouraged her, but ever since I’ve had an image in my mind of this dirty, lonely little kid, saving herself by holding her prosthetic eye out in the palm of hand, like a little planetary marble. But when I researched prosthetic eyes, I discovered, along with a bunch of other really cool medical stuff, but disappointingly for my story, that they’re shaped more like discs than marbles, and felt I had to scrap the planet image entirely. When I was pushed to strengthen the ending, I found a way to be a bit more creative with that image, which had sparked the story, and I worked it back in.

Tanya, the young protagonist of “Show and Tell,” is an incredibly memorable character. She’s scrappy, courageous, and complex. The judge, H. Felix Chau Bradley, described her as “rebelliously creative, resourceful, and kind.” Tanya’s most unique physical feature, her prosthetic eye, is ultimately the means by which she defeats the bullies in the climactic scene of the story (which is mirrored in the victory achieved by her makeshift paper pawn and queen in the chess game that plays out alongside the main narrative). This story would, of course, be an entirely different one without Tanya and her singular qualities, and without her approach to conflict, which is exemplified in a piece of advice she gives to another character: “Next time someone says something you don’t like, either walk away or be brave and stand up for yourself.” How did the character of Tanya (and her prosthetic eye) develop? Were there any particular challenges in writing this character?

I think the challenge for me in writing characters like Tanya is that it just sucks so badly that life isn’t fair. It’s sad that Tanya had to get by in a tough situation. I wish I only brought rainbows and puppy dogs to the page. But story equals conflict. That’s not on me. And if the world kind of sucks, that’s not really on me either. So, I guess if we could only be in happy places where we all just get along, are kind to one another, share power and resources, and nothing bad ever happens, well, then, our stories probably wouldn’t be interesting. I’d actually love it if all my work was super upbeat and positive. But I usually put in lots of dogs, so there’s that. Maybe I should have given Tanya a dog. She would have loved a dog.

You used the word funny earlier, and though this story isn’t belly-laugh funny, I do try as hard as I can to entertain and amuse the reader, if at all possible, so at least the unfairness of the slice of life I’m throwing at them lands a little softer. The darker the elements I uncover, the harder I try for humour.

It is true that characters take on a life of their own, even for the author. And I do love that Tanya has figured out this rule (walk away or be brave) for herself, and I also love that she, albeit reluctantly, takes Martin under her wing. When humans find a way to look after themselves and others, in life or in story, that gives me hope.

According to your bio, you’ve recently completed a short story collection funded by the Canada Council for the Arts, and you're now working on “revising a novel (or two).” Can you share more about any of these projects or what might be next for you in terms of writing?

I’ve had enough stories to make a collection for a while, but I’ve only just put my first collection together properly and have recently started to query it. That was a lot of uncomfortable work. What stories to include, what to exclude. The terror of reading your older stories in case you don’t like them anymore. How to compile the stories into a proper journey for the reader. And describing my stories as a collective. Not easy for me. Not comfortable.

I’m currently revising two novels and it’s fun to finish projects so I’m looking forward to getting back to both of those. The first is about a driven young healthcare executive who’s forced to question both her own principles and the system she serves as she searches for what, or who, is killing patients. The second is about a father who only finds the courage to fully inhabit the role he’s long avoided when his son vanishes, setting him on a searching journey into what he chooses to believe about himself and others and the cost of those beliefs.

One of my other projects, because I read so many amazing flash fiction and short stories, is to regularly share my favourites. I think stories of this length deserve more recognition and general readership. My recommendations are sent by email about every three to four months, so if anyone is interested in receiving those please reach out or sign up on my website’s contact page at andreabishop.ca.

Thanks so much, again, Sarah, for these questions. Thanks also to judge H. Felix Chau Bradley for the kind words about my story, and to the whole team at The Malahat Review for putting on this contest year after year. It’s been an honour to have everyone read and care for my story with their time, attention, and thoughtfulness.

 

Sarah Kilian

Sarah Kilian