It’s almost time to roll out the red carpet for the 2026 Brit Awards, with some of the biggest musicians on the planet up for the night’s top awards.

Fresh from their respective victories at the Grammys earlier this month, Olivia Dean and Lola Young are going into this year’s Brits with the most nominations, racking up an impressive five each.

Just behind them is Mercury Prize winner Sam Fender, with four nods in total, with Wolf Alice, Lily Allen and Dave also in the running for the night’s top prizes.

Meanwhile, international nominees include Bruno Mars, Sabrina Carpenter, Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga.

Here’s the full list of all of this year’s nominees…

British Album Of The Year

Dave – The Boy Who Played The Harp

Lily Allen – West End Girl

Olivia Dean – The Art Of Love

Sam Fender – People Watching

Wolf Alice – The Clearing

Calvin Harris and Clementine Douglas – Blessings

Chrystal and Notion – The Days

Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande – Defying Gravity

Fred Again.., Skepta and Plaqueboymax – Victory Lap

Lewis Capaldi – Survive

Myles Smith – Nice To Meet You

Olivia Dean – Man I Need

Raye – Where Is My Husband!

Sam Fender and Olivia Dean – Rein Me In

Skye Newman – Family Matters

British Artist Of The Year

British Group Of The Year

British Breakthrough Artist

British Alternative/Rock Act

Calvin Harris and Clementine Douglas

Fred Again.., Skepta, Plaqueboymax

British Hip-Hop/Rap/Grime Act

International Song Of The Year

Chappell Roan – Pink Pony Club

Disco Lines and Tinashe – No Broke Boys

Gigi Perez – Sailor Song

Gracie Abrams – That’s So True

Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars – Die With A Smile

Ravyn Lenae – Love Me Not

Rosé and Bruno Mars – Apt.

Sabrina Carpenter – Manchild

Taylor Swift – The Fate Of Ophelia

International Artist Of The Year

International Group Of The Year

In the run-up to the ceremony, it was revealed that Jacob Alon had beaten Rose Gray and Sienna Spiro to the Critics’ Choice prize, which honours emerging British talent.

Last year, the award went to singer-songwriter Myles Smith, with other past recipients including Adele, Florence + The Machine, Sam Smith, Sam Fender, Jorja Smith and The Last Dinner Party.

Meanwhile, PinkPantheress has made history as the first woman to be awarded Producer Of The Year, while Noel Gallagher has been named Songwriter Of The Year, in a controversial move considering he hasn’t actually released new music in the last year.

The Outstanding Contribution prize is going to Mark Ronson this year, while Ozzy Osbourne is to be posthumously bestowed with a Lifetime Achievement recognition.

The 2026 Brit Awards will take place at Manchester’s Co-op Live Arena on Saturday 28 February.

It’s a tough time to be an author.

The era of spending an evening with a book for company is long gone, as reading competes for our attention with TV, radio, podcasts, TikTok, YouTube, Instagram, X, PlayStation, Xbox, films, streaming, virtual reality, audiobooks, Substack, magazines and more…

Many aren’t even picking up a book now and again. According to The Reading Agency, half of adults don’t regularly read, and research from the National Literacy Trust shows only a third of 8 to 18 year olds say they enjoy reading for pleasure – hardly reassuring for the industry.

This apparent dwindling interest in reading is making it even more difficult for authors to capture public attention when competing with the stardust of a singer or the chaos of a reality TV contestant, but that’s not stopped some bucking the trend.

In a classic case of ‘if you can’t beat them, join them, outshine them, and catapult yourself to national stardom’, psychological thriller writer Harriet Tyce found fame competing on The Traitors, the biggest show on TV.

As Traitor Hunter-in-Chief, Tyce used her author’s eye for detail and powers of persuasion (she’s also a former barrister) to create some of the TV moments of the decade.

Aside from “impulsivity and ego,” she says the main reason she wanted to compete was because she’s a massive Traitors fan and thought it would be great fun.

“I love the show, I’m fascinated by the tropes. It’s a kind of whodunit, or rather who’s doing it. It’s the only way that you can live that kind of psychological thriller in real life without, God forbid, being involved in an actual murder mystery.

“The primary motivation came from wanting to take part. Anything else is a massive bonus.”

Tyce – spoiler alert – didn’t win The Traitors, but arguably walked away with a better prize: her book sales jumped 96% when the series aired. Her latest novel, Witch Trial, is released this week.

Despite completing the book before applying to enter the castle, it shares some eerily similar themes to the show. The thriller follows the case of two Edinburgh teenagers accused of killing their classmate using dark, ritualistic methods: a modern-day Scottish witch trial.

It’s largely told from the perspective of a jury member – part of a group of random people thrown together to solve a whodunit – which also feels Traitors-esque.

According to Tyce, it’s an “amazing coincidence,” which has helped draw more people to her novels.

“It’s unprecedented that book tours should sell out. Normally we have to cancel at least two or three events because they sold five tickets. Every author has been there, other than those who are huge.

“There are so many distractions on everyone’s time that it’s tough to cut through with books. I’ve been really lucky that my books have sold well and I’ve always had a level of interest around them, but I’ve never known anything like this.”

Appearing on primetime BBC One might seem like a no-brainer for an author, but Tyce says the decision was not risk free.

“If you’re writing books which are meant to be intelligent, articulate and show a level of general intelligence, and then you go on a programme and you show yourself up as being really not very bright and not very likeable, then you run quite a significant risk of alienating your readership. There were a lot of moments I thought ‘should I be doing this?’ My editor was quite concerned.”

She need not have worried. Tyce built herself a reputation as a witty, no-nonsense genius and a nationwide community of fans. She seems to be loving the ride, and the opportunity to fly the flag for authors who don’t always get the credit they deserve.

“We all do our best. The majority of [authors] are absolutely working themselves into the ground, from writing and editing the books, to marketing themselves online, to trying to build up a social media following, to feeding that social media following, to taking part in events and festivals.

“It’s not just about talent, because there are some very, very talented writers who get no attention at all, and some might argue there are some much less talented writers who get a huge amount of attention because they’re very good at marketing.

“A lot of us are people who like sitting in bed in pyjamas making things up, but we then have to go and be good at interviews and good at public speaking and good at content creation…”

She makes no apology for fuelling her recent success through TV, though:

“It definitely has given my name greater recognition, and it will have given this book greater recognition, but I don’t feel bad about that…Why shouldn’t somebody try and get on telly and see if they can see if they can get some of that attention? It was about time.”

Not every author has a shot at TV fame, but other platforms like TikTok are proving just as effective at giving them big breaks. #BookTok has received over 370 billion views and helped launch authors like Colleen Hoover and Frieda McFadden into bestsellers lists across the globe.

Another success story is Cassie Steward. A make-up artist with no social media experience, her self-published novel Number Thirty Two took off on TikTok after she started posting on the platform. The support she received enabled her to become a full-time writer.

“Somehow, TikTok worked its magic and some reviewers found my videos, bought the book and started shouting about it. It snowballed from there, I was getting tagged in hundreds of videos and the sales rocketed…I wrote the book as a passion project, knowing and accepting that most books never really make money, so I feel very lucky.

“I am still full time now, living off the earnings of one book that came out over two years ago.

“TikTok is an extremely powerful platform for writers and really community driven. It’s amazing how many strangers want to get behind you as a writer and also as a person.”

There might be less people reading, but there will always be an audience for a good book – as long as people know where to find it.

Posting our every move on social media has its joys and consequences — one of which is the incessant opportunity for self-criticism. Our smiles, oddly enough, are often the target of our scrutiny. There we are, mid-scroll on TikTok, wondering if we should have worn our retainers a little more stringently in sixth grade.

But how many of us are actually taking action?

As it turns out, a growing number of young women are actively seeking out veneer consults, even when their teeth are healthy, straight and functional. Veneers — essentially a thin, custom-made porcelain shell for teeth once reserved for the Hollywood elite or midlife reinventions — have quietly become part of the modern beauty conversation, discussed in the same breath as Botox, filler and laser treatments.

What feels new isn’t the desire for nice teeth, but how commonplace the idea of altering them (often in a very costly and somewhat dramatic way) has become. In many cases, there’s nothing clinically wrong with our teeth at all — a smile may be slightly warmer in tone, a tooth a fraction shorter than its neighbour.

However, details that once would have gone unnoticed now seem glaring. These small variations are part of what gives faces character and humanity, but because they don’t resemble the uniform, hyper-polished smiles saturating social media, young women are increasingly growing up believing that cosmetic alteration isn’t an exception, but an expectation.

Spend time on TikTok or Instagram, and you’ll see it everywhere: “smile transformations,” “seat day” reveals, influencers documenting their temporary teeth and final results in real time. The language is casual, almost breezy, as if cosmetic dentistry is simply another stop on the self-care circuit (scheduled right after a facial or waxing appointment).

According to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, more than 260,000 minimally invasive cosmetic procedures were performed on patients 19 and under in 2023. And while veneers aren’t tracked the same way as injectables, young adults without medical issues are increasingly seeking consults with dentists for an aesthetic upgrade.

Young girls have always been coerced into obsessing about their image — having the perfect body shape, silky hair, impossibly smooth skin — but today, it’s getting even more granular.

“Now more than ever, we are staring at our own faces,” says Andi-Jean Miro, a New York City-based cosmetic dentist with several celebrity patients. “Between Zoom, FaceTime, TikTok and dating apps, it can feel like living with a camera on you all the time.” In that setting, small details become magnified, and perfection begins to feel attainable and therefore expected.

Social media has also changed how cosmetic work is discussed. Procedures that were once private are now documented publicly, often framed as transparency. Veneer “journeys” unfold in real time — even though some of the details are omitted in favour of a pithy, watchable video. Temporary teeth are shown, final results are revealed. The repetition has a normalising effect.

“When you see it enough,” Miro says, “veneers start to feel routine, even if your natural teeth are already beautiful.” Celebrities and influencers have played a role in this shift, offering highly visible smile transformations that circulate widely online.

But the images themselves can be misleading. Many of the smiles labeled as “veneers” are actually crowns — a far more invasive procedure that requires the significant removal of the natural tooth structure.

Even moments that serve as cautionary tales don’t depict the true story. Internet personality Tana Mongeau famously posted a TikTok showing her “veneers” falling out, a clip that quickly went viral. What many viewers didn’t realise — and what dentists are quick to point out — is that what fell out was likely a crown, not a veneer, a distinction that underscores how poorly understood these procedures have become online.

But that difference is critical in a clinical setting. And once you shave down those pearly whites? Well, that’s that.

“A veneer is an enhancement. A crown is reconstruction,” Miro explains. Veneers cover only the front surface of a tooth and can often be done conservatively. Crowns encase the entire tooth, requiring aggressive drilling. “For younger patients with healthy enamel, crowns are usually unnecessary. And once that enamel is gone, you can’t get it back.”

Pia Lieb, a dentist, founder of Cosmetic Dentistry Center NYC and a former clinical assistant professor at New York University, sees the effects of this confusion regularly. She describes a generation that examines their smiles with an intensity that was previously impossible. “Patients come in with concerns about a single tooth being slightly longer or less symmetrical,” she says. “They are zooming in on their own faces in ways that weren’t available even a decade ago.”

Filters and editing tools further distort expectations. Teeth appear whiter, straighter and more uniform than biology actually allows. “Young women are comparing themselves not just to influencers,” Lieb says, “but to filtered images and AI-generated faces.” The result is a narrowing definition of what a “good” smile looks like, one that often excludes natural variation. And that’s dangerous.

While veneers can be appropriate in certain cases — such as physical trauma, intrinsic discolouration or developmental issues — both Lieb and Miro caution against treating them as a cosmetic shortcut. Veneers require long-term maintenance and eventual replacement. Plus, they can take a good chunk out of your wallet, running from $500 to $2,500 per tooth.

Over-preparation can lead to sensitivity, nerve damage and restorative work later in life. “This part is rarely shown online,” Miro says. “Cosmetic dentistry is a commitment, not a trend.”

What stands out most about the surge in cosmetic consults isn’t vanity so much as vulnerability. It’s the moment when a young woman pauses a video of herself and wonders why her smile doesn’t look like the ones she sees everywhere else. It’s the slow accumulation of images, comparisons and “before-and-afters” that make perfectly healthy teeth start to feel insufficient.

And recent, poignant findings have shown that teen girls process social media content involving body image differently than their male counterparts. Research from 2022 suggests that teen girls reported using TikTok and Instagram (where there’s an abundance of content with strong suggestions about body image and aesthetics) more often, while teenage boys use Twitch, YouTube and Reddit.

One problem with this, says Amanda Raffoul, a researcher at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, is “a societal acceptance of body dissatisfaction in teen girls as a normal.” In a story by The 19th, she explained that this assumption “can create a dangerous environment for teens to engage in social media.”

Since young women and girls are exposed to more body criticism online, it’s worth having real conversations, offline, about what certain dental procedures entail and whether having one is truly necessary — rather than a byproduct of something we see on an AI-doctored image or in a post from an influencer.

In a culture that rewards polish and uniformity, the pressure rarely announces itself outright — it builds gradually, until opting out feels harder than opting in.

A smile, after all, is not just another aesthetic choice. It is functional, biological and deeply personal, shaped by genetics, age and real life experience. As cosmetic dentistry becomes increasingly normalised for younger patients, the question shifts from whether veneers are beautiful to whether young women are being given enough space — and enough honest information — to decide what they actually want.

Sometimes, enhancement is the right choice. But sometimes, the best option is realising that the smile you already have doesn’t need fixing at all.

I could tell you my marriage ended. But that wouldn’t be the whole story. The truth is I slowly and quietly destroyed my marriage while convincing myself everything was fine.

I’m an average guy. I had a good job, and I showed up physically. I paid the bills. I provided. I thought that was enough. I thought love was something you earned once and then just… had.

I grew up in a small town in rural western Kentucky, raised in church by a devoted mother. Faith was familiar. Scripture was familiar. People watched me grow up and assumed I’d be fine. I assumed it, too.

My parents divorced when I was five. After that, I saw my father three times before he died. No birthdays. No calls. No effort. For years, he lived a mile from me, and I never knocked on his door. I didn’t have the courage. We joked about it when we drove by his house, but jokes are sometimes just a mask for pain.

I didn’t realise then how much that absence shaped me. I learned how to be likeable. How to avoid confrontation. How to be “fine” instead of honest.

When she walked into church one Sunday in a red dress back in the summer of 2014, the world stopped. I still see it clearly. Third row from the back, sliding past her family to the middle of the pew. She didn’t know what she did to me just by walking in. I remember thinking, Don’t screw this up.

She had a way of making rooms feel warmer without trying. A confidence that wasn’t loud. A softness that wasn’t weak. She laughed easily, but she also carried depth. She noticed people. She listened. She remembered things I forgot.

When I told her I loved her and she said it back, something settled deep in me. Well, after my heart exploded in my chest. It felt safe. Certain. Like I had finally landed somewhere.

I loved her in ways that were quiet and ordinary. I loved how she moved through the world. She loved the beach, and I loved watching her stand at the edge of the water, red swimsuit with white trim, dipping her toes in and hesitating. She was terrified of sharks and whatever else she thought might await her out there. She would cling to me as I pulled her farther out, trusting me even when she was afraid.

I loved the way she looked at night when everything was quiet. Wearing one of my T-shirts, ratty pyjama shorts, hair a mess, no makeup. No one has ever looked better with no makeup. Standing at the end of the bed rubbing lotion on her arms, talking about something small that felt important just because she was saying it. I would watch her and think, This is it.

And still, I didn’t protect it.

I loved her voice. I loved the way she sang karaoke without fear. I loved how she laughed at herself. I loved how hard she tried. How much she gave.

And then, years later, when she said yes to my proposal, something in me relaxed. I thought the work was done.

I didn’t stop loving her. I stopped being careful with her heart. I stopped listening the way I used to. I stopped noticing when she was tired. I stopped hearing what she was really saying. I defended myself, instead of protecting us. I crossed lines I knew better than to cross. I hid things because honesty felt inconvenient.

I didn’t lose my wife all at once. I lost her in pieces.

For 10 years, I quietly gave her hell. Through defensiveness. Through distraction. Through choosing comfort over connection. Through the nights I chose screens, hobbies or “me time” over sitting next to her. Through moments where she needed my presence.

She warned me. She told me she was tired. She told me she felt alone. She told me she was losing feelings. She said it more than once. More than twice. I treated those words like background noise. Something to address later. Something that could wait.

I thought love would wait.

On Christmas morning in 2025, everything looked normal. The kids were laughing. Wrapping paper everywhere. A life built together doing what it had always done. But when I looked at her, her eyes were empty. Not angry. Not sad. Just done.

When she asked me to leave, I told myself it was temporary. I said what I needed to say to get back to feeling comfortable. A week later, it wasn’t temporary anymore.

I moved into an apartment. Friends told me I’d be home soon. I wanted to believe them. But something inside me knew I wouldn’t be.

There is a special kind of loneliness that comes from grieving someone who is still alive. Your brain lies to you and tells you there’s hope because she’s breathing, because you can still see her. But your heart knows when something sacred has already left the room.

Finally, the lights came on.

Years ago, my mum bought me glasses to help improve my colour-blindness. When I put them on, I cried. Colours I had never seen before exploded into view. That’s what this was like – except it wasn’t colours. It was her.

I saw everything clearly. The love she gave. Her patience. Her effort. All the times she stayed when she shouldn’t have. And then I saw myself, from her side, without excuses. I realised that I didn’t lose her suddenly – I lost her slowly, choice by choice.

I let the pain hurt. Sleepless nights. Knots in my stomach. A heaviness that didn’t lift when the sun came up. Somewhere in that pain, I began to change.

Not to win her back. I changed because I couldn’t live as that man anymore.

I am learning not to waste time on things that just fill gaps in the day, but to focus on the things that truly make an impact in my life. I have learned to lean on God in a way that I never have in my life. I’ve learned “I’m sorry” has to be more than just words. I am learning to be a man.

Every day, I ask myself one question: How can I love her today – even if she never comes back? Sometimes that means prayer. Sometimes silence. Sometimes restraint. Sometimes doing the right thing knowing she’ll never see it and never know.

Our old home feels different now. I see unfinished projects. Cracks I never fixed. The effort I postponed because I thought there would always be time.

I wish I had been more present. I wish I had soaked in the moments instead of multitasking my way through them. I wish I had taken more pictures. More videos.

I still love her deeply. I probably always will. I don’t know what tomorrow will look like. I don’t know when this pain will ease or when I will no longer feel the urge to crawl back into her presence.

The world doesn’t stop turning, so we move forward. But we don’t have to move forward blind. I pray there will be another chance for me to find this kind of love again in the future. If I do, I will walk into it as a man with a scar – one that will instruct me on how to love for the rest of my life.

If my story keeps one man from assuming love will wait, from believing tomorrow is guaranteed, then something good came from the wreckage.

Don’t wait until it’s too late.

Logan Durall is a pseudonym for a writer who hopes other men might learn from his example before it’s too late.

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