Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind

The Girl's Guide to Bouchercon

There's sort of a discombobulating feeling to know that the biggest event is mystery is starting tomorrow -- with many people already on their way into Chicago -- and the only way I'll be there is by hologram, astral projection, or some other device that's only been invented in Star Trek reruns. But what can a girl do -- priorities, alas -- but offer up her bullet-point advice to newcomers? So, to wit:

1. When in doubt, go to the bar. I shall be repeating this particular point several times throughout this post.

2. Reader, writer, or anyone, you must make the acquaintance of the dealer room. Hopefully it will be much bigger than 2 years ago and not quite as cavernous as last year. It's not only a valuable place to make contacts, lighten your wallet and buy great undiscovered gems, it's always proved the failsafe place for me to get some needed R&R in the midst of running around like a crazed loon for four days in a row.

3. Watch Jon Jordan eat breakfast.

4. Make sure to leave the hotel at some point and get some fresh air, see the city, or otherwise do something not BCon-related. It's downtown Chicago, for god's sake. (Then again, if you're a geek like me, your definition of "fresh air" is to sneak out of the convention hotel, blag your way into the Roosevelt University Library and spend a few hours finding all this....)

5. There will always be a panel that everyone went to that you didn't, or a party that other folks got to that you didn't, or some amazing happening that you weren't a part of. Hey, with 1500+ people attending, there are thousands of individual Bouchercons all happening in the same space with only some degree of overlap. And then the fun is that you can swap stories the next day (or year, or decade...)

6. Remember to get sleep. 4 hours a night should just about do it.

7. As someone (Andi?) has already pointed out, you can fly thousands of miles to see someone who lives in the same city as you. And never see them any other time that year. There will also be people you run into constantly for no good reason, while others you will miss completely, even though you had the best intentions. That's why BCon happens every year.

8. There will be folks who firmly believe in the adage that "What happens in BCon, stays in BCon." Stay away from them. The adage is not only not true, but hundreds of people will find out in due course and the only reason it stays an official secret is that someone with really loose lips hasn't blabbed to the right virus propagator.

9. It's more fun to congratulate the winners after the awards they won are over than to be there in the first place.

10. The first ten minutes spent on Bouchercon waters will be confusing, fright-inducing and otherwise weird. And then you will meet someone you know -- probably in and around the hotel bar -- and everything will take care of itself. It always does.

Have fun, everyone! See you back next week.

The BCon Pregame Special Continues

From Laurie King:

Why go to Bouchercon?

I ask myself this every year, this being the fifth or sixth year in a row that I’ve attended.  I started with the 2001 DC convention, which I signed up for because my daughter was doing an internship in DC and I could use the excuse to see her, and was doubly glad to go to because so many people cancelled after 9/11—one small way a West Coaster could express her solidarity with the besieged East.

There are a number of good reasons to go, although in the end, reasons are not why I’m there.  I see my editor, always a good thing, and get a chance to talk about what’s next and why.  As a business move, going to a convention of 1500 or 2000 readers of crime fiction is like doing a whole bunch of events at once.  I am seen by a lot of people, both established readers and people new to the LRK industry—and it always astonishes me how many people tell me they’ve never heard of me.  I always think that surely, LRK must have been shoved down the throat of every reader of fiction in  he entire country, and that if you don’t read my books, it’s because you don’t like them, not that you’ve never come across them.  But no, I invariably hear two or three times during the convention “Why have I never heard of you before?  I’m going to buy your book now.”

But selling alone isn’t why I go.  I go to Bouchercon not because publishing is an industry, but because it is a community.  A writer forgets that it isn’t all about her and her laptop, that there are other people who do this job, people the writer would never see if not for the effort of flying to bloody Chicago over goddamn Labor Day Weekend.

I live in a town, or anyway near a town, with a handful of writers, and some of us meet for lunch from time to time.  I live in an area with a richness of writers, and I see them even more rarely. But friends who are writers?  They live in places like Anchorage and Manchester, and how often do I get  there, or do they get to Santa Cruz County?

But at Bouchercon I can have a drink with Lee Child and SJ Rozan, I can have breakfast with Dana Stabenow, I can spot a bunch of writers whom I don’t know but whose work I do having lunch, stop to introduce myself, and find myself invited to their spare chair. 

I admit, it was tougher when I was one of the Great Unknown, which was probably one of the reasons why I didn’t go to many conferences early on.  However, even now I have to consciously tell myself that I am among friends, that maybe seven out of ten participants will see my name badge and not scorn me openly. 

And a lack of open scorn is surely reason enough to trek across the country on Labor Day weekend.

And from Billie Bloebaum, Powell's bookseller at Portland International Airport:

So, you asked why we go, what we plan to accomplish, etc. etc.

My first B-con was Vegas and I went to stargaze. I'm an author groupie and get as star-struck when I meet a favorite writer as many others do over actors and rock stars. I did some of that, but I ended up meeting a fantastic group of people (you know who you are) who have ended up being more than just drinking buddies (although they're that, too) and have become true friends.

My first two Bouchercons were paid for by my company, so I felt the need to attend as many panels as I could and stay awake during them, but this year I'm on my own. Although I'll still attend panels, it'll be more as a fan or friend than to get any useful information. And, if I don't make it to one, there won't be the overwhelming guilt that comes with getting paid to nurse a hangover. This year, it's all about me. (Which makes it different from past years how, exactly?)

I want to live on coffee, cigarettes, and cocktails for three days straight. I want to sleep until noon. I want to see some of the city. I want to go to Vosges and buy really expensive truffles. I want to attend the Jazz Festival. I want to meet new people and make new friends. I want to catch up with those friends I just haven't seen in awhile.

I want to make it through a whole Bouchercon without a cameo by one or both of my breasts.

The red dress is staying home this year.

Blogging @ Bouchercon

So in the age of podcasting, constant updates and other techno-gadgetry, how will those of us not going to Bouchercon stay informed and in touch with those that are?

Fortunately, there are a few options available:

Harry Hunsicker's set up a self-contained blog that begins on Thursday. He's promised to provide hourly updates and pictures via his Sidekick, cameraphone and whatever other means he has available to him.

Mary Reagan has set up a group on Flickr where anyone who sets their pictures with the tag "Bouchercon" (or something similar) can have them hosted, as long as they join up as a member.

And for those who take a picture and need to upload those pictures right that second, I've set up a gateway email address that will allow your photos to the Flickr site I've set up expressly for this year's Bouchercon.

The email address is: even17way AT photos DOT flickr DOT com. So store them in your contact lists, cameraphones or whatever you want to use to make your pics available to the public.

Granted, there probably won't be nearly as many photos as there were from this convention, but one can certainly try...

The BCon Pregame Special Begins

It's three days to BCon, and already some folks from across the Atlantic are slowly making their way to the Windy City. And several of you fine folks have chimed in with your reasons for excitement, trepidation and anticipation.

From Eric Stone, author of THE LIVING ROOM OF THE DEAD:

The most important thing about Bouchercon is the drinking. Really. For us writers, it's the closest thing we've got to an Odd Fellows encampment.

Anybody who's ever emailled one of us writers in the middle of the day knows we'll email you back almost immediately. Then you'll email us back. Then we'll email you. Next thing you know we've pissed away an hour exchanging witticisms. Any excuse not to write. Any excuse for human contact.

At Bouchercon you don't need to feel guilty about toing and froing with other people via email when you really ought to be working. Because you are working.

Some people there will buy my book/s. And they'll get to know me so that they'll buy my next book. And the bookstore people will get to know me so that when my next book comes out they'll put it in the window or on a front table rather than stuffed into a back shelf. And the editors will get to know me so that they'll return my calls. And maybe, if I'm lucky, there will be some people there who will have read my books and liked them - FANS! (I suppose groupies are too much to hope for.) It's not like I don't require a little stroking of my ego from time to time.

And this year it's in Chicago. And I love Chicago. I see great carnitas and at least one night at a good blues club in my near future.

From Rae Helmsworth:

As far as your invitation to tell you about why I go to Bouchercon, and what goals I may have:  I started reading crime fiction again a couple of years ago after being away from it for more than a decade.  When I discovered that I could have conversations about the books on the internet, and maybe make a couple of cyber-pals along the way, well, that was just great.  And when I further discovered that there was an opportunity, via Bouchercon, to meet some of my new pals face to face, and hang out with a bunch of people who share my interest in and love of crime fiction, that was even better.   So my reason and my goal for attending is to hang out with my pals, attend a few panels, and just generally relax around a group of people who, by virtue of being avid readers, are much cooler than the average humanoid.  Last year was my first Bouchercon, so I'm very interested to see if I love this one as much as I loved the last one.

From I.J. Parker, author of THE DRAGON SCROLL:

My first and only Bouchercon was so stressful that I was up every night for  three nights with vicious migraines. I was there pretty much against my will because my agent thought I should be promoting my new book.  I used the nights to write a short story (later published in AHMM and subsequently the basis for a new novel).  So you may say it wasn't a complete wash-out. Still, I hated it.

So why am I going back?  My first reason is business.  I like my new publisher (Penguin) and hope to do a bit of promotion to please them.  They even offered to pick up part of my expenses though I won't take them up on that. The other reason is that this time there will actually be some people there who have expressed a wish to meet me. Astonishing, but very soothing to my lacerated ego. So I'll be looking for John R., Bryon, Otis, Jim Fusilli, and a few other folks from other websites. Perhaps I'll even make some new friends.  And I'm going to try very hard to have some fun for a change.

And from Steve Miller, MYSTERY NEWS reviewer and columnist:

My biggest goal for this year's Bouchercon is to moderate my panel without any horrible gaffes or awkward silences.

Why do I attend -- I could cite the usual reasons (hear and see who's hot and new, learn interesting things, drink to excess), but what it ultimately comes down to is that it recharges my battery.  I always come away excited about the state of crime fiction.  There's so much energy pulsating through the place, and everyone is so friendly and generous, it just lifts me.

More will be posted tomorrow at this time as I get them.

Looking across the pond

Ever since Fiona Walker disappeared from the Crime Fiction Dossier, I've felt kind of de-anchored when it comes to what's happening on the UK crime fiction front. Maybe it's because on some level, I still miss my time in London a few summers back when ostensibly, I was there to do research but really, was spending more time going to book events, festivals and the like.

Happily, it looks like the void's being filled to some degree by two new blogs covering the UK crime scene: one is by Keith B. Walters, writer and occasional reviewer for Ottakar's newsletter The Verdict, and the other by Rhian D, an avid mystery fan who gets to way more events than most folks will.

Thanks to both, I know way more about what happened at last month's Harrogate Festival, as well as some choice gossip about next year's event -- who will be there, and whether it will shift venues (again.)

Now, if only Ali Karim would start blogging...

In other UK-based news, SHOTS has updated with two new short stories, one by J.E. Seymour and the other by Bryon Quertermous.

Also, congrats over here to Ray Banks, who's found a new home with Polygon for his Cal Innes PI novels. Look for SATURDAY'S CHILD to be out next year and DONKEY PUNCH the year after that.

The end of summer Weekend Update

Well OK, technically summer doesn't end till September 20 but I mean, people are back at school, back at work, the traffic on Sunday evenings isn't quite as insane as it once was, it's after Bouchercon -- how much more evidence do you need that summer's ending?

But anyway:

NYTBR: OK, so I kind of punted on thinking that people would care so much about La Stasio's chick lit mystery thing last week. But she does kinda -- sorta -- make up for it with her column this week, looking at new releases by Martha Grimes, Jacqueline Winspear, Ayelet Waldman and Margaret Maron. Or maybe she's making a particular point, now that I think about it...

Otherwise in the TBR, Elizabeth Becker writes in from Cambodia, Susannah Meadows is exhausted by Lydia Millet's apocalyptic vision, and Camille Paglia talks about...ancient Greek poets? That does seem kind of different, at least to me...

What Bouchercon Means to Me

So first, a huge thank-you to CJ and Jenny for helming the site for the remainder of the week.

The word's pretty much leaked out by now but to make it official, from August 29th through to September 1st, I'll be guest-blogging over at Galleycat. Since I'm not especially good at maintaining two blogs at the same time things will continue to be fairly quiet -- at least from me -- over here, with the schedule returning to some semblance of normality on Tuesday, September 6.

But let's face it, practically everybody who reads this will be gearing up for Bouchercon, the Granddaddy of all Mystery Conventions. And so I invite everyone -- fan, unpublished writer, author, editor, agent, publicist, whoever -- to answer the following questions: why do you attend Bouchercon, and what are your goals (if any) for this particular one?

Send 'em on by email, and I'll post them here from the 29th through the 31st as part of the Bcon Pre-Game Special.

And if it feels too much like a book report, well hey, it is being held on Labor Day Weekend...

Thursday's pilot: Jenny Siler

And so, the Great Guestblogger Month comes to a close today, and our final guest will be Jenny Siler. I've professed several times here about how much a fan I am of her books -- ever since I picked up a paperback copy of her first novel, EASY MONEY, and was blown away for two reasons: her writing, which is several points lyrical, spare and wholly individual, and that there were so few women writing the kind of noir thrillers I tend to enjoy. Since that book was first published in 1998, she's followed with three more standalones, ICED (2000) SHOT (2002) and FLASHBACK (2004.) Book number five, AN ACCIDENTAL AMERICAN, will be out in the UK about this time next year and hopefully, about the same time in the US if somebody's listening.

Now, I'm cheating slightly because Jenny used to blog over at her own site, but if this stint spurs her to get back to it, all the better. Whatever the case, I'm looking forward to what she has to say.

The Bungee Boo Dance

Partly in response to Sarah’s August 22^nd posting regarding Donald Westlake and Charles Willeford’s WORDS OF WISDOM, and partly because this same subject has been on my mind recently, I would like to share my own experience with finding balance in my approach to writing.

            For years, when people asked me when I first knew I wanted to be a writer, I knew exactly what to say. I was proud of the fact that I had come to writing almost coincidentally, and I had carefully cultivated a backstory to sustain this myth. I would launch into a well-rehearsed narrative of how, after a night of drunken scheming, I’d gone out and bought a computer. How, three months later, I’d finished my first novel, a neo-gothic, ghost story, bodice ripper, piece of trash. And how, after cutting my teeth on the pure pulp of romance, I decided to take on a genre I had always loved.

            I say ‘myth,’ but there was a lot of truth to my story. I had, in fact, written a romance novel on a drunken dare, and the experience had turned me into a writer. Yet the reality of what had happened and why was much more complex than I liked to let on.

            As much as I might like to deny it, the evidence suggests that I’ve wanted to be a writer pretty much my entire life. I wrote (and self-published) my first book when I was in third grade, an elaborate and gruesome mystery involving a dead bank president and a flock of flesh-eating crows. By fourth grade I had my own publishing empire, creating semi-pornographic magazines involving my black lab and my best friend’s dachsund. By high school I was the Sylvia Plath of my class, churning out dark and angry poetry which, I am now embarassed to admit, was a regular feature in the school literary magazine.

            And then, sometime in my early twenties, something happened and I quit writing entirely. I had dropped out of school by then and was living what I thought was the life of an artist. Late nights of bartending and even later nights of drinking, miserable jobs and miserable apartments. I was still calling myself a writer—afterall, how else was I to justify my entirely aimless existence—and yet, for a good number of years, I didn’t once put pen to paper.

            “Writers write,” the father of an ex-boyfriend of mine once said, commenting on his son’s similarly aimless lifestyle. He was correct, of course, and yet on the rare occasions when I actually contemplated writing, my own twenty-something self-conciousness always got in the way. I couldn’t just write A novel, I had to write THE novel. And of course THE novel would have to be inspired by the existential misery of my own experience.

            Writing a romance novel freed me from all those pretensions. After all, I told myself, I was just writing trash, so who cared whether the writing was gem perfect or the characters totally believable? Stripped of the self-consciousness that accompanied “serious writing, ” I was actually able to get some writing done, and to learn a phenomenal amount about the craft of writing in the process.

            Later, when I began writing thrillers, I stuck with my carefree attitude, telling myself that, even though my new novels were more heavy-weight than the first, they were still just entertainment. This approach worked well for me, and I completed and published three novels with this mindset. But eventually the pulp label I’d found so freeing became a shield behind which I could hide my own fear of failure.

            Instead of challenging myself to stretch and write something of real quality I stuck to what I knew. I “finished” novels when I knew they could have been better. I got sloppy and I knew it. And I let myself, and others, believe that I was “just” a pulp writer. For if that was the case, if what I was writing was essentially trash, then I wasn’t putting myself or my talent on the line. To put it bluntly, I had become a chicken.

            I’d like to be able to say that I came to this realization on my own, but the truth is that I didn’t. It took an entirely external cataclysm to make me face the fact that my writing had become more than just trash, that I needed to take the risk of becoming “serious,” and that it was my own fear that was keeping me from doing so. This cataclysm was September 11^th.

            I knew from that very first day that the aftermath of 9/11 on our country and our politics was something I would not be able to ignore, and it wasn’t. I was finishing up my third book at the time, and I realized quite concretely that my next book would be an answer to the paranoia and fear that had gripped our society. I simply could not stand by and say nothing while everything I’ve always loved about this country was dismantled in the name of national security. And so I didn’t. 

            Of course “serious” writing has its drawbacks. I am now finishing my second of these novels, and I can testify to the fact that there is fear and more fear to be overcome on a daily basis. The trick, and one easier said than done, is to find a balance, to keep it light and heavy at the same time, to realize that what I’m doing is only what I can.

            Fortunately, in my case, fate intervened with yet another antidote to taking myself too seriously. Not long after my fourth novel was published, I was lucky enough to give birth to a daughter. It’s hard to take anything too seriously when you spend a large portion of your day on your hands and knees picking cheerios out of the carpet. Or when your bedtime reading is Goodnight Moon. Or when you’re up at five in the morning watching the Boobahs do the bungee boo dance.

            

            

            

            

The midweek hostess: C.J. Carpenter

Chances are, if you're involved at all in the New York-based mystery scene, you've run into, or at least have heard of, C.J. Carpenter. And if you aren't or haven't, then it's awfully likely you will very soon. Suffice to say that the buzz is building for her and her soon-to-be-completed first novel (after all, I wasn't the one to dub her "the female John Sandford") and that I'm very happy to host her here for a few reasons, most notably because I really, really need to understand the whole Neil Diamond adoration thing. Really.

All kidding aside, it should be great fun to see what CJ has to say on dipping her toe into the murky waters of the path to publication. Enjoy.