Con Me!

Attending crime fiction conferences and conventions is often part of the writing life and can sometimes play a role in propelling a writing career forward. So, the decision to attend or not attend them is important, and it’s important to understand the difference between them and to be prepared for some of the things that make a conference or convention more or less successful.

Michael and Temple,
dressed for the
Malice Domestic awards banquet

Each conference and convention has a different vibe, and, if you are a writer, the vibe you feel may depend on where you are in your writing career, whether you are at a craft-based event (a conference) or a fan-based event (a convention), how appropriate the facilities are for the event, and how the event is organized.

FAN-BASED CONVENTIONS

At fan-based conventions, the superstars may be fêted, make presentations, and participate in panels. Their time off stage may be spent with agents, editors, and publishers, and fans will seek them out for autographs, conversation, and occasional fawning.

A mid-career writer will participate in a panel or two, might meet with an agent, editor or publisher, and may have a fan or two seek them out.

An early-career writer—someone with a single book from a small press or a few published short stories—will be lucky to snag a seat on a panel and will likely be among the fans seeking autographs and conversations with the superstars and mid-career writers.

A beginning writer—a writer who has yet to see publication in any form—is unlikely to participate in any panels or presentations unless they have specialized knowledge to share (medical examiners discussing autopsies, for example). Beginning writers attending a convention are, essentially, fans.

CRAFT-BASED CONFERENCES

The vibe is different at craft-based conferences. Everyone in attendance is there to teach others how be better writers or is there to learn how to be better writers. The implied student-teacher relationships reduce the differences between writers and increases the interactions between writers at all levels, especially at smaller conferences.

These are excellent opportunities to improve one’s writing skills and make connections with agents, editors, publishers, and other writers.

COMBINATION EVENTS

Some conventions offer writer-centric sessions in addition to fan-centric sessions. Even so, because the fan experience takes priority, opportunities for writers to improve their craft are limited.

At a conference with multiple sessions on craft and business, a new or beginning writer may spend much time attending sessions and learning. A superstar writer may present one or more sessions and will engage with numerous new and beginning writers interested in learning at the feet of the masters. A mid-career writer straddles the mid-point between the two ends of the spectrum. They may have little interest in attending the presentations, not because they think they know it all, but because chances are they’ve heard it all. At the same time, they have the potential for engaging conversations with writers at all levels of experience.

FACILITIES

Facilities play a significant role in how writers experience a conference or convention. If the meeting rooms are too large for the audience, if the rooms are a significant distance from restaurants and bars, if the hallways are too wide, and if it is easy to be anywhere but at the event (for example, returning to one’s room or leaving the hotel to sightsee), opportunities to meet and interact with other participants is minimized. This puts shy and socially awkward writers at a disadvantage.

ORGANIZATION

An event with one or two presentation tracks keeps attendees confined to a small area, potentially increasing interaction among attendees. While a large event with multiple tracks has attendees frequently shifting from room to room, which increases opportunities for impromptu hallway meetings, a large event spread over multiple rooms and multiple tracks decreases the odds of unplanned meetings with specific people.

VALUE

Few writers have the time and money to attend multiple conferences and conventions each year. So, how might writers make decisions about where to spend their time and money?

If the goal is to sell one’s books or to meet and interact with fans and/or potential fans, a convention is likely the best use of time and money.

If the goal is to share knowledge or to gain knowledge about the business and craft of writing, a conference is likely the best choice.

There are conventions that try to appeal to the entirely of the mystery reading and writing community, such as Bouchercon, and others that appeal to specific subgenres, such as Malice Domestic and ThrillerFest.

There are conferences that try to cover the entirety of crime writing, and others that concentrate on novel writing or short story writing, such as ShortCon.

There are both conferences and conventions that appeal to writers in specific geographic regions, attended primarily by local fans and/or writers.

COST

And then there is the cost—not just the registration fee, but hotel, travel, and meals, as well as time away from family and the day job.

Some of us earn enough from our writing to pay for the (tax-deductible!) expenses of attending conferences and conventions, but most of us do not, and the choice between attending Bouchercon and taking the family to Disneyland is a real-world dilemma.

Attending mystery conferences and conventions can have a significant impact on one’s writing career. Attending might mean meeting an agent, editor, or publisher you later work with. Equally important, attending will put you in an environment that—unlike your day job and daily life—surrounds you with people who do what you do, read what you read, and enjoy what you enjoy. That alone may motivate you and inspire you.

VALUE

So how do you determine the cost/benefit ratio when applied to your writing career?

Attending conferences and conventions has led to numerous opportunities I would never otherwise have had. I’ve created and/or pitched anthologies at Bouchercon and SleuthFest; I’ve co-authored stories with writers I met at Bouchercon and Malice Domestic; I’ve co-edited anthologies with writers I met at Bouchercon and Malice Domestic. I’ve worked in various other ways with editors, writers, and publishers I’ve met at these and other conferences and conventions.

And though I highly value these opportunities, I must be honest: The cost of attending these events is greater than the dollar value of all the projects that have come my way because of my attendance.

Ultimately, writers must weigh the costs vs benefits themselves to determine if and which conferences and conventions they should attend, if they attend at all.

So, how about you? What opportunities have you had that you likely would not have had if you had not attended conferences and conventions? What factors do you include in your personal cost/benefit analysis when considering future attendance at such events? And what makes a conference or convention more enjoyable or less enjoyable?

Things I Heard at Malice Domestic

This year's Malice Domestic mystery convention was held a few weeks ago, and it was a good time, as always. I usually jot down interesting quotes I hear during panels, then share them here. This year is no exception. 

Thanks to Rob Lopresti for first putting this idea in my head years ago when he shared quotes from, I think, Bouchercon. And thanks to this year's Malice panelists for their words of wisdom. 

And away we go!

 

"When I read suspense and thrillers, I think: At least my life isn't that messed up." - Jennifer van der Kleut 

"It's not necessarily the terrible thing happening--it's the threat of the terrible thing happening that propels the story forward." - LynDee Walker

"Good things can come out of rejection." - Kate Hohl 

"The most important thing you can do to be asked to submit again to an editor is be willing to be edited." - Josh Pachter 

"Learn to use Microsoft Word and learn to use track changes. Your editor will love you." - Carla Coupe

"Work with your editor. Your editor is trying to make your work the best it can be." - Michael Bracken

"I am not now, nor have I ever been, a eunuch." - Smita Harish Jain

"After you castrate a few people, you get a reputation." - also Smita Harish Jain 

"I don't want to kill people in a real small town because I thought people might take offense to that." - Annie McEwen

"When reading suspense, I think most people like to be mostly right but a little bit wrong. The thrill of not knowing what's going to happen is what pulls us along to keep turning the pages." - LynDee Walker 

"You don't wait for your muse. You say: Muse, c'mon, sit down." - Korina Moss 

"I do not like unreliable narrators. I just want to punch them." - Jule Selbo

"A short story is not a novel. It's not a love note. It's not a poem. They have their own rhythm." - Smita Harish Jain 

 

Change of Direction

     My turn to blog has circled around again. Originally, I had planned to use this space to talk about Malice Domestic. I'd rhapsodize about the forums I attended, impart the things I'd learned, congratulate the award winners, and, naturally, laud the high-level conversation conducted at the panel in which I participated. 

    The rough draft turned out to be a pretty boring read. Consequently, I've switched directions. 

    The longer I work at writing, the harder it is to find value in the planned events at a conference. Occasionally, I glean a nugget. And I still believe there is merit to an occasional refresher course on the lessons I should already know. But the thunderclaps of insight are becoming increasingly rare. 

    That's not to say that I didn't benefit from attending Malice Domestic. Rather, at this stage, the value I gained was subtle and harder to articulate. I renewed many old friendships, established several new ones, and plotted some future opportunities. None of the details fit well to a column like this.     

    Some months back, Michael Bracken modestly proposed in a SleuthSayers blog post that writing conferences should schedule less time for panels and more time for standing in the hall. The hallway, outside the meeting rooms, he noted, was where the real business got done. 

    More than ever, I found that I concur. But it is hard to talk about afterward. 

    And perhaps, it should be so. 

    The word "hall," according to Etymology Online, comes from the Old English heall, meaning a large space covered by a roof--think Beowulf's great hall or a market hall. The word later morphed into a term for a passageway as a castle's private rooms became separated from the common areas by doors. 

National Archives College Park Public Domain

    The heart of the word heall seems to be the roof. It protected the space from the elements. In some explanations, the roof concealed or shielded the room's occupants. The hall, in its oldest form, was a place of cover, protection, and concealment; it's only fitting that what happens in the hall, therefore, stays in the hall. 

    Fully geeking on the etymology of conference words, I spent a little time researching "panel." 

    Seamstresses and fans of craft cozies shouldn't be surprised to learn that the word panel comes from a French term meaning a piece of cloth, generally a rectangular one. The same root word is used for a glass pane. 

    Sometime around the 15th Century, panel made the jump to refer to those summoned by French authorities to serve as jurors. Once called, jurors' names were inscribed upon a rectangular piece of parchment (cloth). By the late 16th Century, this notion of panel had been diluted to include any group of people who gathered together to advise and consider. 

    And now, a distinguished foursome sitting on a dais behind a cloth-covered table holding forth and sharing their insights has become a panel. But the word remains particularly apt for Malice Domestic, Bouchercon, or any of the other mystery conferences. 

    Remember the original meaning of panel as a rectangular square of cloth? Heavy fabric made a great wall covering. The word panels also developed in that direction. Panels became the term for specific wall or door sections. And it's here that things started to take a dark and nefarious turn. 

    Bordellos and other disreputable places would be outfitted with panels. In these seedy establishments, at least one could be slid back and allow for customers to be robbed, beaten, or possibly killed. By the 19th Century, a panel-house had become slang for a bordello. 

    Panel, therefore, has the twin traditions of an erudite gathering combined with a dash of thievery and bodily harm. 

    Halls and Panels--two words with suggestions of secrecy. Perfect words for a mystery conference. 

    Until next time. 

  
 BSP: Panels do provide a great time to tout new works. Thanks to all who helped me release The Firefall by attending one of the launch events. I appreciate your support. 

Together alone.

            It’s received wisdom that writers are the world’s most inveterate introverts.  Who else could spend hours, days, years alone hunched over a keyboard or pad of paper?  It’s so obvious.  Most normal human beings couldn’t stand it.  Which is why most normal human beings don’t become writers, for their own sakes. 

            And yet, most of the mystery and thriller writers I know are more than agreeably sociable.  If you want proof, just hang out at the rambunctious hotel bar during Bouchercon, or any of the regional writers conferences that take place around the country. 

            Thinking about this, I was reminded of my college era playing in a rock and roll band.  We performed constantly throughout the school year.  After a while, some patterns

I'm hoping a guest singer will remember the lyrics

emerged.  Parties contrived to bring dispirit groups together took forever to get rolling, while the close-knit communities, like fraternities and sororities, launched on the first chord.  Thursdays often produced wilder nights than Saturday or Sunday.  I’m not sure why, unless it was anticipation of the coming weekend, or the thrill of rebellion – launching youthful mania while there was still a day of classes in the offing.  

Another high point was the first party after the end of exams.  Our college had a disproportionate number of pre-med and pre-law students, people we rarely saw during the passing months, having sequestered themselves in feverish study.  But after exams, with nothing left to prove, they’d emerge, pasty and unclean, and go completely nuts.  Their undeveloped social skills didn’t help, nor did a deep unfamiliarity with the plentiful intoxicants available at the time. 

So it could be that writers are a lot like college kids who spend their undergraduate years, and their parent’s tuition money, actually studying (I held down the other end of that curve).  Since we’re biologically pack animals, long periods of time isolated from human contact probably creates a pent-up demand.  A chance to re-engage ones vocal cords after hours in monkish silence.  An irresistible need to satisfy the intraspecies fellowship programmed into our DNA.

        That’s probably true, but I think an even greater impetus is mingling with people who do the same thing you do.  As with any reference group, be it police chiefs or philatelists, common experience short-circuits all the meandering, and stilted, searches for common ground that characterize social interaction.  Blessedly, when hanging with writers we don’t have to parry the usual inane questions, like “Have you written anything I heard of?” or “When are they going to make a movie out of your book?”  None of us is really very interested in the other’s childhood inspirations, choice of writing software, or process, whatever the hell that means.  In fact, most of my casual conversations with writers have absolutely nothing to do with writing at all.  Sometimes the travails of promotion come up, or an impending book launch, or a new project/agent/publisher, but usually we just talk about our kids and dogs, and recent vacations, just like everyone else. 

Still, I think common sense dictates that writers lean toward introversion, though there are plenty of exceptions.  Somehow a monstruous, flaming ego like Earnest Hemingway managed to win the Nobel Prize for Literature.  As did Winston Churchill, no one’s idea of a wall flower.  I could easily provide a list of mystery and thriller writers who could have

succeeded as standups or late-night talk show hosts (though Johnny Carson was, in fact, an introvert; deviations litter every argument.)  The most flamboyant of my closest friends started out his career as a freelance journalist.  I imagine someone had to strap him into his chair until the article was finished. 

Introverts do have one clear advantage.  While extroverts are shaking hands, kissing cheeks and angling for attention, introverts are watching the room.  They notice little slights and flirtations, they size up personalities and sniff out phony posturing.  Their nerves tingle from the social dynamic, registering envy, vanity and lust.  All of this gets stored away on mental file cards for future use.

        Most of the writers I know fit this description, yet they have a small contingent of people to whom they are very attached.  They prefer to go deep rather than wide.  I’ll cop to being one of those. 

We can turn it on when we need to, then quietly slip back to the keyboard. 

Hardy Like a Fox at a Crime Scene

This month, some musings on recent reads/listens, followed by a piece of news I find pretty exciting.

THEY CERTAINLY ARE HARDY, THOSE BOYS

I like to listen to audiobooks on my daily walks, and often I choose to listen to favorite books from my childhood. The sense of nostalgia is a welcome break from the daily grind, and it's always fun seeing exactly how much I remember. I've listened to all fourteen of L. Frank Baum's Oz novels, Treasure Island, The Swiss Family Robinson, The Westing Game, Pippi Longstocking, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, The Once and Future King, The Phantom Tollbooth, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Wind in the Willows, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and The Lord of the Rings (in a new reading by Andy Serkis so good I've listened to the whole thing twice).

Last month I listened to a package of four of the early entries in the Hardy Boys series by "Franklin W. Dixon." I'm sure I'm not the only crime writer whose first introduction to the genre was these books (or Nancy Drew--but I'm old enough that, in my youth, boys reading Nancy Drew simply Wasn't Done). I had, if memory serves, a set of the first seventy or eighty novels, in their distinctive blue-spined hardbacks with the painted covers. Encyclopedia Brown probably came along at about the same time, and then The Three Investigators (much better books, as I recall) and the McGurk Mysteries (which nobody but me seems to remember). Then came Sherlock Holmes, followed by Agatha Christie . . . well, you get the idea.

(An aside: I wonder what happened to the original paintings the publisher commissioned for the covers of these novels. Were they, like so much commercial art, discarded and forgotten? Are there people who collect them?)

It's been decades since I read the Hardy Boys, and I found listening to several in a row a little startling. It rapidly became clear, first of all, that the audiobooks were not the versions I read in the 1970s, which had been heavily edited and, as much as was possible, updated. Those blue hardbacks filling my shelves always had exactly twenty chapters, for one thing, while the audiobooks had 23 or more. They were clearly the originals, from the 1920s and 30s, which made things a bit disorienting. It's hard to identify everything that was different, but there were more scenes with the Hardys simply hanging out with their friends, and even going to school, than I recalled. Also, I really don't think the Frank and Joe I knew were quite as accustomed to toting guns, which their earlier incarnations very casually bring along on several of their adventures. They never actually shoot a person--at least not in the books I listened to--but they cheerfully dispatch large numbers of snakes and wolves in ways that modern, ecologically-conscious readers might be a bit uncomfortable with.

I should say, by the way, that the readings, by Gary McFadden, were quite good--even given his choice to make the Hardys' chums Chet Morton and "olive-skinned Italian-American" Tony Prito (who's described that way literally every time he appears) sound like, respectively, Gabby Hayes and Chico Marx. Chet, the primary chum, is the only one given anything more than a single defining personality trait (Biff Hooper is athletic, Tony Prito is Italian, Callie Shaw is pretty). I remembered Chet as being a) fat and b) cowardly. In the originals, though, he's a) fat and b) a practical joker, whose jokes usually backfire on him.

I did definitely remember the extremely limited and repetitious vocabulary employed by "Dixon." Friends are always "chums." Fired revolvers invariably "crash." Cars are either "roadsters" or "jalopies." On the other hand, there were some turns of phrase I found quite novel. Several times, expressing enthusiastic agreement with a statement just made, Joe breaks out not with "I'll say!" but rather "I'll tell the world!"

Plotwise, the books are . . . let's be generous and call them thin. They're not really mysteries, as the bad guys (gangs of thieves or kidnappers, generally) are immediately obvious from the first page, and it's just a matter of tracking down their hideouts. There were two things I found very striking about the books. First, storms. I listened to four books, and in every single one of them the Hardys (and usually some of their chums) are put into moral peril by a sudden hurricane-level storm or, if it's winter, the worst blizzard in decades. These are always preceded by Frank casting a worried glance at the gathering clouds, but deciding that the boys probably have time to do whatever detective task they're engaged in before the storm hits. He's always wrong. As a variation on the theme, there are cave-ins, which happened three times in the four books. The minute Frank and Joe decide to go into a mine, the supporting timbers immediately age by several hundred years.

The other thing that was impossible to ignore was probably one of the main elements that had been updated for the 1970s versions. In the originals, the Hardys live in an America that is still overwhelmingly rural. Trains are the main way to get from town to town; most roads, outside city limits, are unpaved; airplanes are still a novelty. Most families grow at least some of their own food. Odd hermits can built themselves cabins in the woods not far from town and go unchallenged. Teens go ice skating on frozen rivers. Placing a long-distance telephone call requires lengthy negotiations with operators and a bit of luck. Outside their hometown of Bayport, the landscape for hundreds of miles in every direction is farmland, dotted with occasional small villages that generally aren't even named. I found it all quite fascinatingly alien. 

I don't think I feel the need to listen to any more of the books, but revisiting them was fun. Maybe I'll try a couple of Nancy Drews. I've been told that, on average, they hold up better. Anyone want to vouch for that?

THE SHELF YOU LIVE ON

While I was listening to Frank and Joe, the actual physical books I read over the last few weeks were just a tiny bit different, being new novels from a couple of titans of American literature who have been around since the 1960s: Fox, by Joyce Carol Oates, and Shadow Ticket, by Thomas Pynchon.

Of the two, I found Fox more successful and compelling. It concerns the murder of a popular teacher at an exclusive New Jersey middle school who, it turns out, was also a serial pedophile. It's a long book, and most of it is concerned with putting us in the heads of the characters--including, in a number of chapters that sometimes get very difficult to read, the pedophile. The structure of the central plot, though, is a fairly straightforward murder mystery, and while Oates leaves more plot threads dangling at the end than is typical in such a work, she does ultimately provide a satisfying answer to the question of whodunit.

Shadow Ticket, meanwhile, is about Hicks McTaggart, a Milwaukee PI in the early 1930s who gets caught up in the search for a missing heiress--the daughter of "the Al Capone of cheese." The quest eventually takes him, against his will, to Eastern Europe, where people are more concerned with a certain political uprising that it's getting harder and harder to make fun of. Does this plot reach a satisfactory resolution? Hard to say because, as in most of Pynchon's novels (and especially his recent works), the very structure of the book seems designed to undermine the idea of plot. Or causality. Or logic. There are vast global conspiracies that may or may not exist, phantom submarines, vengeful golems, Hungarian biker gangs, vigilante autogyro pilots, spies, counterspies, and swing musicians, and after a while it's pretty much impossible to tell what any of them are trying to do or if they manage to do it. This is a book that openly mocks the idea that anyone is going to try to make sense of it. You just go along for the ride, and if you're a certain kind of reader, the absurdity and humor make it worth your time. It worked for me for a while, but I can't say I was sorry to get to the end.

So, what we have here is a murder mystery and a PI novel--and yet, I'm sure the vast majority of bookstores will put them on the general fiction shelves, not the mystery shelves, mainly because of the names of the authors. A lot of Oates's books in particular involve murder or other serious crimes, and she's been in Best Mystery Stories of the Year and Ellery Queen many times, but I don't often see her books alongside those by Richard Osman. I don't know that I have a point here, beyond noting that a lot of "serious" or "literary" fiction is really just crime writing wearing a tweed jacket and a pair of wire-rimmed specs.

AND NOW, THE NEWS

Hey, speaking of books on shelves . . . 

I try to avoid vulgar self-promotion in these columns, but there are times I can't resist.

It's been fifteen years since I published my first crime story. In that time, I've hit a number of milestones that I found thrilling. First sale to Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine. First sale to Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. First award nomination. First acceptance to an open-call anthology. First award win. First inclusion in an invitation-only anthology. First Honorable Mention in Best Mystery Stories of the Year, followed by the first actual inclusion in the volume. First Bouchercon. Joining SleuthSayers. Becoming the president of the Short Mystery Fiction Society. Of course, I haven't notched nearly the number of publications and impressive achievements that many of the other columnists on this site can boast, but I'm having a blast chasing them. I figure I only have to live another 500 years or so to publish as many stories as John Floyd has, for example.

This past week I hit another personal milestone, and one that's especially meaningful to me, when Level Best Books published Crime Scenes, my first collection. Not too long ago, I thought such a thing would never happen, but here we are. The book includes twenty of my stories, including finalists for the Edgar, Derringer, Thriller, and Shamus Awards, two winners of the Al Blanchard Award, and several selections from Best Mystery Stories of the Year. 

Even if I never have another book published under my name, I'm thrilled to have this one out in the world. I didn't publish my first piece of fiction until I was in my forties. For many years, I thought being a published author was a dream that would be forever out of reach. Now I've got something I can put on the shelf to show that I made it after all. I'm proud of that, and also extremely grateful--to Level Best, to every editor and publisher who ever accepted my work, and most of all to the readers who have enjoyed it.

Because it turns out that actually being a writer is a lot more fun than dreaming about being one. I'll tell the world!

The Conferences and Conventions We Didn’t Know We Needed

The audience at Left Coast Crime 2026’s
“Short But Usually Not Sweet” panel.

With the success of ShortCon, the Premiere Conference for Writers of Short Crime Fiction, it’s obvious that some segments of the crime writing community have long been overlooked.

Additionally, having recently returned from Left Coast Crime in San Francisco, I am reminded once again of where most of the important things happen at mystery conventions.

So, I propose a new crime-writing conference and two new new mystery conventions.

FlashCon

ShortCon is an annual one-day conference intended to teach new and early career writers how to build and sustain a long career writing short crime fiction.

But what about writers of flash fiction? Don’t they need their own conference?

I propose FlashCon, a two-hour conference with three half-hour presentations and 15 minutes between each presentation where new and early career writers learn how to build and sustain a long career writing flash crime fiction.

HallCon

At nearly every mystery convention I’ve attended, I’ve met more people and learned more during unplanned meetings in the hallways between panels and presentations.

So, let’s flip the script for HallCon. Instead of 45-minute panels and presentations with 15 minutes between them, let’s have 15-minute panels and presentations with 45 minutes between them.

Fifteen minutes is more than enough time for moderators to introduce panelists and for panelists to say, “Buy my book!” Or, if they’re short-story writers, to say, “Read my story!”

If the conference venue is small enough and the event rooms located close together (rather than spread over multiple floors), this will enable attendees to crowd together in the hallway and have meaningful conversations that can lead to any number of positive outcomes.

BarCon

At some conventions—Bouchercon in Minneapolis was one—the bar is small, centrally located, open late, and where nearly everyone gathers after dinner.

So, how about BarCon? There’s no programming, and the non-programming doesn’t start until eight p.m. and lasts well into the night.

Your Thoughts

So, what about you? Do you see opportunities for conferences and conventions that meet needs not currently served by the mystery/crime fiction community?

* * *

“Under the Proctor Street Bridge” was published in Time After Time (Thalia Press).

“Wealth of Knowledge” was published in Kings River Life, March 14, 2026.

Jukes & Tonks, originally released by Down & Out Books, has been rereleased by Audecyn Books.

Grabbing the Third Rail

There are a lot of good reasons not to talk about politics in my column here.

It's not really what SleuthSayers is about, first of all. We're here to talk primarily about writing and reading, mostly in the area of short mystery fiction.

It risks alienating some of my readers. In these highly divisive times, declaring any particular political stance is putting a target on your back. Sometimes literally.

And, of course, there's the fact that it rarely, if ever, does any good. There was a time when I believed a well-crafted Facebook post, drawing on sound logic and reliable evidence, could actually persuade people to change their point of view on political issues. That time is well past.

So, yep, there are a lot of compelling reasons I shouldn't talk politics here.

As you've probably guessed, I'm going to do it anyway. 

Specifically, I've been thinking a lot about this question: what's the role of the writer in these times? Is it possible for writing to exist outside politics?

What's prompting this? Well, in addition to my columns here, my stories, and my actual day jobs (teaching, in case you've forgotten), I've somehow found myself serving, for the last year and a half, as the President of the Short Mystery Fiction Society (you're a member, right? It's free! It's fun!). Mostly I'm doing this because nobody else wanted the gig, but I've tried to make a go of it with the time I have available.

The heart of SMFS is our discussion board, and one of the things the members have made very clear is that they don't want overtly political content there. This is, of course, entirely understandable. There are plenty of other places online for people to scream at each other about it, and once such discussions start, they're almost impossible to stop. Inevitably they turn hostile, sometimes to the point of rendering the entire group useless for days on end and some members walking away for good.

So one of my roles, as President, has been to police the discussion board, trying to enforce civility and head off potentially explosive topics before they build up a head of steam.

Woody Guthrie

Lately, some folks seem to think I'm not doing a very good job of it.

In the last few weeks, members have posted news about a pair of upcoming publication opportunities focused on what's happening in the US. One is an anthology called American Gestapo; the other is a periodical called the Antifa Lit Journal. As the titles indicate, these are both publications taking a decidedly left-wing stance on current issues. I don't think posting about such opportunities on SMFS is itself problematic. Notifying each other about new markets is one of the things the group is for, after all, and simply informing the group about them isn't necessarily endorsing their political stances. People who know they have no interest in such a market are perfectly free to simply scroll past the post.

That's not what happened, of course. I won't get into all the details of the ensuing mini-firestorm, and as these things go, it was relatively brief and contained. There were some posts that I could only take as attempts to bait the members into a political crossfire, perhaps out of ideology, perhaps out of sheer mischief. There were a series of posts with people instructing each other, in increasingly hostile tones, not to talk about politics. These posts, of course, only prolonged the discussion and made the intrusion of political content more likely.

Recommended Reading

Then came the inevitable complaints that the board is tilted to the left, and that those on the right end of the spectrum were being subjected to unfair mockery, vitriol, and silencing. Now, I'll freely confess that I am a liberal, but I maintain, and continue to maintain, that I've done my best to be impartial in what I allow and what I silence on the board. No doubt I haven't been perfect, but I've tried. Anybody who thinks the job is easy is welcome to run to replace me. Elections are coming up in a few months.

Finally, there were the people who loudly declared that they're sick of politics altogether, and that they have no interest in any political debates, and that both sides are equally stupid, and it has nothing to do with their life or with writing.

And that's what I found I couldn't get past, and what I find myself compelled to write about here, somewhat against my better judgment. The idea--admittedly one propagated by most media coverage--that politics is really nothing more than a kind of sport, one that you can tune out of your life in the same way you'd decide that you really don't care about the Superbowl. One side wins, one side loses, life goes on. The belief that writing, specifically, can exist in an apolitical realm that's somehow above (or at least removed from) the petty political debates of the day.

I don't buy it. And since I can't talk about it at SMFS--where my mandated role is to minimize political discourse as much as possible--I'm going to talk about it here.

Even though I shouldn't.

First: in purely practical terms, politics do have real, concrete implications for people trying to write today. Sell a book on Amazon? You've put a couple of bucks in the pocket of a billionaire who's spent decades systematically dismantling organized labor and driving small businesses under, and who's currently in the process of gutting what was once a pillar of independent American journalism.

RIP Journalism

Politics are why library budgets are being slashed in many communities, pushing small publishers--the kind who, say, publish mystery anthologies--closer to the brink. Politics are why schools are banning books and universities are cutting humanities programs. Politics are why I know more than a few American writers hesitant to attend this year's Bouchercon, being held in Canada, because they're not certain they'd be allowed back in the US. Politics are why there's been no real effort to contain or regulate the AI explosion that threatens all artists, including writers (to say nothing of its devastating environmental impacts and terrifying stunting of critical thinking skills).

Those are just some of the concrete reasons writers should be concerned about politics, but more generally, and more importantly, writing is an inherently political act. In part that's because the freedom of expression is itself a political idea, but it goes beyond that. There's a reason despotic regimes make a practice of throwing writers and other artists into cells. Roger Ebert said that "cinema is like a machine that generates empathy." I think the same is true of all art. Creating and consuming art--and perhaps especially fiction--requires and promotes the imaginative effort to see the world through another perspective, from another set of eyes. It encourages us to step outside our narrow individual experience and recognize the fundamental humanity of others. To a certain set of people, that creation of empathy is dangerous. Maybe the most famous example in American history is Lincoln calling Harriet Beecher Stowe "the little woman who wrote the book that started this great war." Uncle Tom's Cabin awoke Americans to the horrors of slavery in a way that nothing else had.

And America today is sorely in need of empathy.

Bad Bunny with a message that
shouldn't be controversial:
"together, we are America"

The descent of the Republican party into what can only be described as a cult of personality, one fundamentally opposed to many basic tenets of American democracy, has been a long process. It probably began with the backlash to the Civil Rights movement; recall LBJ's observation that "if you can convince the lowest white man he's better than the best colored man, he won't notice you're picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he'll empty his pockets for you."

For the last sixty years, the GOP has been giving its voters people to look down on, and picking all of our pockets. Reagan set the pattern with his lies about "welfare queens" and the glories of "trickle-down economics." Rupert Murdoch and Rush Limbaugh sold the ideology to millions with rants about libtards and feminazis. The catastrophic Citizens United decision solidified it as inescapable policy. It's a simple bargain: give us money and power, and we'll protect you. We'll protect you from immigrants, from gays, from the trans community, from scary brown people of all varieties. We'll protect you from intellectuals and scientists who think they're better than you. We'll protect you from teachers who want to tell your kids that America isn't perfect. We'll protect you from union thugs. We'll protect you from man-hating feminists. We'll protect you from lazy poor people, stealing your money through social programs. We'll protect you from traitorous liberals who want to take your guns and make you eat quiche.

They made people afraid, and they turned that fear into hatred. They convinced millions of Americans that empathy for the other is weakness. And then came Trump, who wields and directs hatred as a weapon in the service of his all-consuming ego.

This is no longer "just politics." This isn't normal. If Trump and his many enablers are not stopped, America will slip into full-blown fascism. Many would say we're already there. And you can pin your hopes on the next election, but right now the GOP is working very hard to suppress and undermine the vote, and that's just the start. Given everything else he's done, does anyone really believe Trump won't mobilize ICE and the other forces at his disposal to "secure" voting locations? Does anyone really believe he'd accept losing Congress? Or will he do everything in his considerable power to declare the results invalid and make himself the dictator he clearly longs to be?

These are not law enforcement officers

This might all seem unthinkable, but a lot of things that have happened in the last ten years used to seem unthinkable. American children are dying of entirely preventable diseases because the American government has tossed science out the window and turned over our national healthcare to a man who brags about snorting coke off toilet seats. Children around the world are dying because American aid to foreign countries has been gutted, in adherence to the President's racism and xenophobia. Our Attorney General screeches at members of Congress that, because the stock market is up, she's under no obligation to investigate child sex trafficking. Our President . . . well, there's no need to make a list, is there? Every day he does something that would have shamed any previous holder of the office into immediate resignation. And he gets away with it, in part because virtually nobody in his party has the spine to stand up to him and in part because everyone immediately gets distracted by the next outrage.

It's not normal for the Department of Justice to try to prosecute sitting members of Congress because they told the military not to obey illegal orders. It's not normal for a Congressman to insist a Superbowl halftime performance be investigated for the crimes of being in Spanish and asserting that there are countries other than the US in America. It's not normal for a President to demand that media outlets that report bad news about him lose their licenses, or to withhold resources from states because they didn't vote for him.

Or brag about his ability to walk into dressing rooms and ogle naked teenagers. Or grab women by their genitals and expect them to accept it because he's famous. Or post disgustingly racist memes to social media. Or demand his name be slapped on any building he happens to like the look of. Or defend himself against rape charges not by saying he would never do that, but by saying the woman isn't his type. Or shred decades-long relationships with American allies while embracing and praising dictators who flatter him. Or remove references to slavery from historical sites. 

The Attorney General of the US literally
refusing to look at or acknowledge
Epstein victims

Just to make a connection back to crime--since this is a site for crime writing--we might as well acknowledge that crime is at the heart of all of it. We've turned over most of the wealth and power in the country to a small group of billionaires who are now utterly beyond accountability and consequences, even when they have committed the most vile offenses imaginable. Laws that don't apply to everyone aren't laws. They're tools of oppression. If we're going to write honestly about what crime is today, if we want our writing to be anything other than pure escapism, we can't ignore that.

So, no, I don't believe it's noble to claim to be above politics, to regard it as something irrelevant to your daily concerns. Calling yourself apolitical at this moment is a willful refusal to face the reality of what's happening. It's not being high-minded. It's complicity.

During his first Presidential run, Trump claimed he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and not lose any voters. What seemed at the time like just another in his endless string of absurdities has become a grotesque reality. Americans are being murdered in the streets, simply for protesting against his masked thugs who claim they are not bound by the Constitution.

This is not normal, and we can't pretend it's not happening.

I don't know if it's too late to save American democracy. What I do know is that, if we're going to save it, one of the things we need is empathy, which is what brings us back, again, to writing. I hope that my little stories do some small amount of good in promoting empathy, in addition to anything else I can do to protest and resist. And I hope we all have the courage to speak honestly about what is happening.

I'll write about something a little lighter next month. Promise.

Bill Crider Rides Again

Bill Crider

Having a few health issues in recent months like throwing arterial fibrillations aka AFibs and finally had ablation surgery to get my heart back to more normal, I've been rereading some favorite authors. One of my all time favs was Bill Crider, and not just because Bill and his wife, Judy were Texans who also became close friends to both Elmer Grape and I for many years, but I personally am in love with Blacklin County, Sherrif Dan Rhodes. Growing up in Post, Texas where the Garza County Sheriff was our major law enforcement officer I could definitely relate to Rhodes. When Elmer and I opened our bookstore, Mysteries & More in Austin, Bill was our Grand Opening Event Signing Author. Then every time he had a new book come out, we invited to him come up fron their home in nearby Houston for a signing. July always came, too.

Bill also wrote everything from PIs to Westerns and Sci-fi to a College prof series and even a kid's book. He also wrote a jillion words in short stories published in countless magazines and anthologies. Bill once suggested he and I change our name to Minny Moore because we invaribly were both in the anthologies with big Name Authors, "Bill Doe or Jan Doe" would be named on the book's all impoetand FRONT cover then that next line always stating "with Many More." Then Crider and Grape were named on the back cover.

Angela Crider Neary

The Criders had two children, now adult, Angela and Allen, I'd briefly met them but not until Judy's death did I begin a friendship with, daughter Angela, who came to Texas fairly often, looking in on Bill.

Since Bill's passing, my friendship with Angela has grown. I also claim her hubby, Tom Neary as one of my sons by another mother.

Angela had recently written to me that Bill's Sheriff books were being repackaged and I said "This is something I must learn more about and need to publicize. SleuthSayers is the perfect vehicle for me to do that.

JG: First Angela, please tell me about you and your family and writing background:

ACN: Angela Crider Neary was born in Texas to Bill and Judy Crider and currently lives in the California Wine Country with her husband, Tom Neary, and their extremely spoiled cat, Roxie.

I've been an attorney for 30+ years was inspired to write my first mystery novella about a cat detective who fancies himself to be the Sam Spade of cats, LI’L TOM AND THE PUSSYFOOT DETECTIVE BUREAU (THE CASE OF THE PARROTS DESAPARECIDOS), set in one of my favorite areas in San Francisco, Telegraph Hill (and, of course, inspired by having a dad for a writer!) The second book in the series is LI’L TOM AND THE PUSSYFOOT DETECTIVE BUREAU (THE CASE OF THE NEW YEAR'S DRAGON). The books can be enjoyed by ages ranging from 10 to100.

JG: Angela's also written short stories appearing in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Bouchercon Anthology, and in Down & Out Books. See her Amazon Author Page for more information.

Angela and Tom are focusing on maintaining her father, Bill Crider’s, literary legacy by ensuring that his works are updated and available for both new and old readers to enjoy.

JG: Explain what you mean that's new about Bill's books?

ACN: In updating the Sheriff Dan Rhodes series, which includes 25 novels about a laid-back lawman in a small Texas town who solves crimes with humor and insight into human nature they've begun refreshing the series with a "mobile-first design" that features new covers, ebooks, and audio books, with a new release planned for every 4-6 weeks. https://www.sheriffdanrhodes.com/. You can find out more about the refresh here: https://www.sheriffdanrhodes.com/new

Additionally, the eBooks now have individual detail pages with links to all the places where they are available.

For example:

TOO LATE TO DIE (book 1 of 25)

https://www.sheriffdanrhodes.com/read/1

To change the link to another book, just change the number on the end of the link. Above the number is 1 for book 1.

SHOTGUN SATURDAY NIGHT (book 2 of 25)

https://www.sheriffdanrhodes.com/read/2

For book 2, just replace the 1 with a 2.

These web pages have sub-links to all the available places to find the eBooks: Apple, Amazon, Kobo, B&N, etc. Web pages for the entire series also feature:

• Book-Links to All Available Retailers
• Concise “1-line” Book Summaries
• Book Summaries
• Editorial Reviews (praise for Bill Crider)

This project is close to their hearts and they hope readers will continue to enjoy the series for many years to come.

JG: As a kid did you realize what Bill did? Teacher and writer?? Did either one determine your path?

Growing up, Angela was always surrounded by books due to her dad’s collecting addiction and she has been an avid fiction reader all her life. Some of her most indelible memories are of spending hours upon end in used bookstores with dad while he browsed the shelves. From a young age, I was aware my father was an English professor. My brother, Allen and I would sometimes accompany him to his office in the “Old Main” building at Howard Payne University that seemed to our young minds more like a haunted house than a university campus administration building, with its Romanesque architecture, rounded arches, towers, and stonework. Her father would take Allen and I swimming in the university dorm swimming pool and to HPU Yellowjacket football games.

Regarding his writing career, Bill said in the Acknowledgements for his last Sheriff Dan Rhodes book that his daughter and son, Allen, “had to put up with a father who often sat behind closed doors in the evening instead of watching TV or playing board games with the family. They never complained maybe they were just glad to get rid of me for a while. But I like to think they understood what I was doing and forgave my absence.”

While Angela remembers him sequestering himself in his office to write, she never felt as if he was gone for too long or that he didn’t spend enough time with his wife and kids. He managed to carefully balance and accomplish both writing and time with friends and family.

JG: I mean this as a compliment, but know I'm not the only one to sense this Texas sheriff's character being this, "Aw shucks ma'am. It weren't nothin'," as Rhodes kinda digs his boot toe into the dirt. I think Bill even says those words in his first book. Was that part of Bill's actual nature or did he deliberately create this persona?

ACN: I never asked Dad about the inspiration for the Sheriff Dan Rhodes or his persona. I believe this is because when I read the books, I really do always pictures Rhodes as having a personality and nature similar to my father. Bill may not have intended to base the Sheriff Dan Rhodes character on his own characteristics, but it may have been a natural outgrowth of his disposition and how he viewed the world. Dad grew up in a small town and raised his kids in one, too, so I always pictures these locales while reading the Sheriff Dan Rhodes books, although Clearview Texas, where Rhodes is the sheriff, is a fictional town.

JG note: I hope all y'all enjoyed reading this update but must remind you I have about the same cyber smarts as a west texas horned toad or perhaps an armadillo. If you have technology how-to questions, don't ask me.

Is Accuracy Overrated?

Filling in for me today is Mark Bergin, a retired police lieutenant, talented writer, and dear friend. Mark generously helped me with research for my short story, "Zebras." I am not the only writer who has benefited from his wisdom and experience. Mark has helped countless others with their stories. He truly embodies what it means to be a good literary citizen, supporting and encouraging us all. He is a remarkable human being, and I'm delighted he's joining us today.

— Stacy Woodson

Is Accuracy Overrated? 

by Mark Bergin

    I am the luckiest man in America. I have been saying that since 2013 after I survived two heart attacks that actually killed me, made me retire from the police force after twenty-eight years—a twist of fate that pushed me to write my first book, published in 2019. Now, I have a four-book contract. And one of the luckiest things about this new writer gig is, I get to talk with people about being a cop all the time.

      I am a big mouth, always have been. When I was a police officer, and a reporter before that, I was communicating with the public about safety and crime and baby seats and all kinds of stuff. Now, I am on panels at conferences, meet new friends, and give out dozens of business cards to writers who want to talk about police procedure—to get it right.

       And I wonder if that is important.

       After all, we are fiction writers. We lie and make up stuff for a living. There is no such person as my detective hero John Kelly (though he sounds a little like me) nor his foil, public defender girlfriend Rachel Cohen (though I married my public defender girlfriend Ruth, who hates the Rachel character).

    I strove hard to make my first book, APPREHENSION, accurate enough that a cop would read it and not find fault, that officers could give it to their families and say, “This is what it’s like out there.” It is about stress and suicide as much as police investigation and trial preparation. Maybe, too much. Maybe, I lost some readers’ interest by so densely packing police factoids— radio codes and case numbers and evidence procedures. I was a first-time author. Four years as a newspaper reporter means nothing in prose.

        But I was proud of my book’s accuracy until about two years after I wrote it, when I drove across a bridge from my Virginia home into Washington, DC. I remembered my description of a fictional pursuit and discovered I had misplaced the Jefferson Memorial, describing it at the end of the I-395 bridge, and not the real spot, a different bridge at Fourteenth Street. The Jefferson Memorial—it’s not little. And nobody ever caught it. Maybe because I had so few readers. 

          Despite that error, I remain committed to working with authors for the sake of their own authenticity. I talk with Sisters in Crime chapters and my local writers group (Royal Writers Secret Society, if you must know). A typical conversation might begin, “Would a police chief be involved in the interview of a murder suspect?” And my answer will start with, “Do you want him to be?” Because in the real world, no. Police chiefs approve budgets and hirings and firings and talk to politicians and kiss babies. They don’t do day-to-day police work. But you, clever writer you are, have a chief who is a main character in your book (instead of a distant loud sound bellowing from a high floor in the police station). So, let’s get him or her into that interrogation room. Is this in a small department where everyone does everything? Is there a blizzard, and she is the only brass available? Is the victim his sister-in-law (which presents its own conflict-of-interest-unlikeliness). But remember, IT’S FICTION. We’re making it up. Do it well enough, no one will question it. 

        Well, okay, maybe some will. 

    I just read a novel with an airplane mistake. (Note from Ed: Don’t make mistakes with airplanes, guns, or cars.) In the novel, a C-130 takes off to the sound of jet engines. No, it doesn’t, the C-130 is a turboprop, not a jet. Do I care?  I love this author, and I forgave him this one, but other times, a mistake like this can take me out of the story and weaken my faith in the storyteller. 

    We read to visit and inhabit new worlds or see ours from new angles with new facts. Mistakes make us doubt information in the story. I gave up on a spy novel recently in which agents playing husband and wife on a train are stopped at a border. “Wife” is taken away, “husband,” placidly, goes on to his destination and later, his headquarters where he reports, “Oh, they took her. I don’t know who.” NO! You’re a spy playing her husband. You fume and fight and make a scene because if you don’t, you’re suspect. Even I know what a real spy would do. So, the rest of this writer’s work became suspect. (Could we make this real? What if the train is in a violently repressive county where the agents are trained not to make waves. There. Done.)

        Would a detective investigate her sister’s murder? Do police encrypt their radios, or switch to cell phones for sensitive communications? Would they drive their own cars on the job? Do cops marry defense attorneys? I’ll answer anything, and very often, the answer becomes the start of a long, exciting back and forth on story and plot and character. I have made so many good friends this way, keeping contact after Left Coast Crime or Bouchercon or Creatures, Crime and Creativity. That’s the best. That’s why I am so lucky. (BTW, the answers to these questions are: no, yes, never, big-time yes.)

Unless that’s not what you want.

      There are some big, common mistakes in fictional police work: 

• Nobody does paperwork (unless you’re in a novel by Michael McGarrity, an ex-cop who gets it right). 

• Everybody loads their gun at the last minute, racking the slide to put a bullet in the chamber as they get out of the car or go through the door. NO. That gun was loaded the moment the cop woke up, maybe even loaded for weeks and locked in a personal safe at night. 

• Cops shoot somebody and go right back out. NO. NO. There is always an investigation during which the cop is on administrative leave, to give her a cooling off period and cover the department’s a—administration against claims of improper supervision. 

• Cops, well everybody, can tuck guns in their belt at the small of the back. NO. NO. NO. Try it. Come to my house. I’ll hand you an unloaded gun. You tuck it under your waistline. In five minutes, the gun is in your buttcrack. In ten, it has already slid down your pants and out your ankle. An easy fix? “Detective Callahan tucked the gun into the holster at the small of his back. There. Done. 

• A cop’s death makes your heroes mad, and they go out and solve things, and  then all is well. NO. NO. NO. NO. It’s so much more than that. It makes them furious, and they go out and rough people up. The death of an officer is a major blow to a department that lasts days and weeks and maybe forever. He or she was a friend and a coworker and a neighbor and a godparent and a boss, and their death reminds you, and your own family, how dangerous and capricious police work can be. Don’t get me wrong. It’s fun, too. Driving fast with lights and sirens, pointing guns at bad guys, making arrests, saving people. But it’s serious business, even if we don’t talk to the public or our kids about it. We should. 

      Writers research, ask questions, observe. Police departments let you go on ride-alongs and have public information officers. And you can always write to me (mbergin01@aol.com). Don’t let research be your enemy. Remember you are a fiction writer.  

      In APPREHENSION, a major scene keyed on the burial of an indigent jail prisoner. I needed that scene to go the way I envisioned—a small crane, a wet and muddy hole, gravediggers who left, cops who stood by. I didn’t know how the city or the sheriff’s office, who runs the jail, handled that, so I never asked. I made it up along reasonable lines of what I knew of city and law enforcement bureaucracies. Did I get it wrong? In six years, I still don’t know.

       Just write. Write it how you want. If your fans nitpick, do it better next time. At least now you know they’re reading you.

***

Mark Bergin spent four years as a newspaper reporter, winning the Virginia Press Association Award for news reporting, before joining the Alexandria, Virginia, Police Department. Twice named Police Officer of the Year for narcotics and robbery investigations, he served in most of the posts described in APPREHENSION, his debut novel. APPREHENSION is being reprinted by Level Best Books as the first in a four-book series called The John Kelly Cases. Book two in the series, SAINT MICHAEL’S DAY will be published this year and was a finalist for the Killer Nashville Claymore Award. His short stories appear in three Anthony Award-nominated anthologies: PARANOIA BLUES, LAND OF 10,000 THRILLS, and SCATTERED, SMOTHERED, COVERED AND CHUNKED. He lives in Alexandria, Virginia and Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.