My Weblog

Dying to Write

by Donna

I planned to blog about the Dying to Write conference held yesterday by the Mid-Atlantic chapter of Mystery Writers of America--a conference that included two Femmes, me and Elaine Viets, as presenters.  I had a great time--here's hoping everyone did.  But to explain why I enjoyed it so much, I have to digress.  (I have a black belt in digression.)

Not long ago, I was talking to someone about critique groups and writing conferences and the like.  Some writers love 'em; some can't see what all the fuss is about.  Me, I'm in the first category.  Though I recognize that not all groups and conferences are created equal.  And if you ask me the most important thing to look for when deciding if a critique group is right for you or whether a conference was worth going to, I have an easy answer.

Do you walk out fired up to write?

If you walk out feeling condescending about the group or conference and oh, so pleased with yourself--convinced that your work in progress is perfect and the editors who have rejected you are cretins--maybe you just wasted your time.  Either you picked the wrong group or conference--in which case, chalk it up as a frog-kissing experience and try again--or you went in with the wrong attitude, and I'm not sure there's an easy fix for that.  Seasoned writers and teachers of writing learn to spot almost instantly the writer who has grown a shell like an armadillo and curls up defensively in a tight little ball at the slightest suggestion that all is not perfect in his or her work.  And yet, strange to say, you find many armadillos at critique groups and conferences. 

Or maybe not so strange. Writers run into a lot of rejection, not just on their way to publication but throughout their careers.  A strong, resilient sense of self-confidence can be a welcome kind of armor.  But when we curl up so tightly that we keep out even the very suggestions that will help us grow as writers and make our work better, we turn that armor into a prison and risk falling short of where our talent can take us.

On the other hand, if you leave a conference with your head so low your chin scrapes the sidewalk, convinced you're a miserable writer and the publishing industry is a deck hopelessly stacked against you, then maybe you're in the wrong scene.  Maybe you've found one of those groups that takes a perverse pride in its own savagery, and snarls at newcomers that they'd better learn to have a thick skin in this business.  If that's the case, run like hell.  Or play possum; they won't keep attacking if they think you're dead.

Though it could be that you're just new to critiquing.  It's not always fun.  In fact, sometimes it hurts like hell to find out that what you've been slaving over for months still has a long way to go.  But that's one of the essential skills we need as writers--not just the ability to string words into sentence and build paragraphs and chapters out of them, but also the ability to stop and listen to that voice--inner or outer--that says, "Yes, but you need to take another pass at it.  You need to fix this, and this, and this."  Maybe some writers come to this naturally, but for me, at least, it's a learned skill--one I'm still learning.  I think most of us will always feel a little defensive when someone tells us our work isn't perfect.  And as long as we're saying, "Why don't they love it?" we're not hearing what we need to hear--so the trick is to work on getting past that defensiveness as quickly as possible.  If we can get it down to a moment--just a beat before saying, "Okay.  What do you think it needs?"--we will have mastered one of the most important skills for a professional writer.

So yeah, there are a lot of times when a group or a conference doesn't work, or takes time to work out. But when a conference or a critique group works, it's a lovely thing to experience.  I heard a lot of good information at the conference, and I saw a lot of engaged, receptive faces.  I can't think of anything more exhilarating than seeing someone's face light up with excitement and hearing him say, "Oh, my God!  That's exactly it!  That's what I need to do!"  Or even.  "You could have a point there.  I'll play around with it."  Seeing someone impatient to go home, because now she knows how to take her work to the next level.

Okay, maybe there's one thing a teensy bit better, and that's going home feeling that way yourself.  Feeling that you've gained a new perspective on your art or learned a new tool that can help you take your writing where it needs to go.  Or maybe just spending time with other writers, talking about your craft and recapturing the joyous side of what we do. 

It's what I get out of my monthly critique group.  I got a hit of it from yesterday's Dying to Write conference.  And I'm hoping that a fair number of attendees feel the same way.  I'm optimistic--the feedback we've heard has been good, and I saw signs myself--the pencils flying as people took notes.  The faces lighting up with understanding and excitement.  The little knots of people in the halls and in corners of the rooms, still talking about what they'd heard in the sessions.

A lot of us talk--sometimes rather loftily--about teaching and doing workshops as a way of giving back to the community.  Paying it forward.  Well, it is.  But if it's working well, we're getting as much as we're giving.  Recharging our own batteries. With luck, when we leave a critique group or a writing conference, we really do feel that we're dying to write. 

I could go on, but there's this short story I need to finish, and one of yesterday's sessions gave me some really good ideas . . . .

Short Stuff

by Kris

Like most authors, I employ a variety of ways of developing characters. I create profiles and explore their pasts. I work their insides and their outsides, delving deeply into their cores, yet also questioning what kind of clothes they wear. I throw challenges at them in my mind to see how they'll react. But my favorite technique seems to be putting them in short stories.

I say "seems to be" because I never really acknowledge it as one of my character-developing techniques. If a new writer asks me about working up new characters, it's just not one of the steps that comes to mind.

But it should be, since it's a technique I've used a lot. My sleuth, Tracy Eaton, and her daffy movie star mother, Martha Collins, were born in a short story, "L.A. Justice," which went on to win the Derringer Award. And Zoey Morgan, the protagonist from my standalone novel, Never Say Die, also appeared in a couple of short stories ("Sentence Imposed" and "Deadly Obsessions") that took place after the novel I would come to write — I knew her so well through those stories, I longed to discover what brought her to that point, and it took a whole novel to answer that. (All three of those stories are currently available through Fictionwise.com, but you'll find a few other, unrelated stories in my Story Archives.)

I've liked short stories since, as a young girl, I discovered the fun of twist endings, after reading O Henry's "The Ransom of Red Chief." I really like most things about short stories. I love their surprise endings, of course, and the impact of all of their endings. I also like that the story lines seem to take less predictable forms than novels. And I both treasure and curse the exactness of language required, when every word needs to be the precise choice and must somehow express volumes. Writing short stories has made me a more inventive, efficient writer, though sometimes I rue all the polishing they demand. I will say, though, that the longer I write novels, the wordier my stories seem to become. I seem to have let the story muscles grow flabby, while my novel muscles have pumped up.

And as I said at the start, I also love that short stories let me see my characters in new ways. In my current WIP, a secondary character — a Hopi guide named Jake Alo — wasn't coming to life as well as I thought he should. As I often do, I went back to the techniques I listed first in this blog, but they didn't add anything to what I already knew about him.

Then I heard about a theme short story contest. I don't know why it never occurs to me from the start to put troublesome characters into stories, because it always adds something new to their makeup. A mere fragment of the theme connection drifted into my mind when I heard about the contest, but not much about the plot. But I put Jake into that situation and just stepped back to see what he'd do. And once again, like other characters before him, he surprised me with the actions he took, as well as the other characters he encountered along the way, and the outcome that resulted from it.

Since the contest gave me the idea, I went ahead and sent it in. I don't know if that story will place in the contest, or even if it'll ever see print. That would be great, of course, but it wasn't my objective, so I don't overly care. The point of the exercise was to get to know Jake, and I have. Now on the pages of my WIP, he displays unexpected humor, yet harbors hidden pockets of pain. He talks back to me now, and he continues to surprise me.

Jake and I are grooving as we weren't before. His life and my work are both richer, because we took a walk on the short side.

In the Company of Librarians

I've long thought that if my "career" as a writer hadn't limped into port after twenty-five years, I would have wasted my time at the keyboard. Instead, I should have been a librarian. To my youthful mind, librarians were not the dried-up, fussy, women of the movies. They were the keepers of the gates of heaven. A librarian had the power to issue me books, a librarian had the power to ask my mother if that book was really suitable for a child my age, and the librarian got to spend her whole day surrounded by the musty smell of books. To me, this was bliss and joy and everything else good.

When she decided I was safely raised, my mother began working at the local library, and if I hadn't already had a stellar opinion of my mother, that would have cemented my admiration. When my brother had the sense to marry a librarian, he rose in my estimation. My best friend in my small town is, you guessed it, a librarian. 

I know being a librarian these days is nothing like being a librarian years ago. Librarians now have to know their computers, they have to be 'media experts,' and guarding rooms full of old magazines is no longer the chief function of people who work with books. I probably wouldn't be able to cut the mustard among modern professionals. But after all, I could learn. I could take classes . . . a lot of classes.

What would knock me out of the running, should I abandon writing and go for the gold, is the one thing that separates a great librarian from a mediocre librarian . . . the ability to deal with the public. To smile at people who want "that book about the war by that author, the one who got divorced." Or the kids who have to write an article about dinosaurs. What dinosaurs, what period? Their diets, their child-raising ability, their extinction?

And I don't have the forbearance necessary. Plenty of people dump their kids at the library while they run errands. (At night, these same people dump their children at the movie theater and leave them there unsupervised. Both of my sons worked in cinemas for their teenage jobs.) Plenty of people decide to confide their political views and their personal grievances to the closest librarian, who is pinned down by courtesy and can't escape. My sister-in-law, who was small and cute and had a kind face, was a particular victim of people who wanted a captive audience. 

This is all by way of preface, though I seem to have carried on at some length. This week, I'm going to address the Mississippi Library Association. The meeting was held last year. Why, you ask? Because of Katrina. Four Mississippi libraries were lost in the hurricane and its aftermath, and they're still in various stages of recuperation. So my last year's speech was shelved, and I'll give a different one this year. The award I'm accepting is for a book so long gone in my memory that I'm not totally up on the plot -- CLUB DEAD, I think.

So there's an element of sadness to my pleasure in addressing these fine people. My sister-in-law, a truly great librarian, died years ago, and I still feel her loss. On a larger stage, the people of southern Mississippi have a long way to go in their recovery from Katrina. But I also feel confident that Linda would have been happy to see me honored, and that a very poor state will struggle through a bad time, as it always has.

I'll be thinking of these things as I look out on the gathering of the people who still, and always, guard the gates of heaven.

I'm writing a book, I must be an author

This topic was touched on earlier on the Femmes blog, but having had a recent experience concerning literary agents, some of the most in-demand Celebes in the world of writers, I thought I’d venture. (Oh why not? North Korea’s got THE bomb. Google plans to give our copywriten books away for free. The Senate’s got perverts and my lawn’s got weeds. What the hey?)

Groups of readers gathering in member’s homes to discuss a book all have read, are an encouraging, surprisingly long-lasting trend in an otherwise unsettled universe. There’re so many of these clubs, mostly females, most working women with families who still find time to read. An author can’t accept all such invitations because there are so many of these groups, but I attended one recently that I enjoyed and a few days later the hostess called to ask if I would discuss how to select an agent with a friend of hers who was working on a mystery.

Do you need an agent? Probably. Are you likely to get one? Probably not. Not the kind that want to sell your book instead of sell you their services. That kind make good money at the expense of neophytes who remain unpublished so don’t make them richer. Many years ago, a writing instructor at the University of Colorado bemoaned the fact that there were only forty publishers left. When she started selling books there were sixty. Now, there are six or seven major publishers of fiction in the US. There are more names than that on the roster but essentially they are all owned by a small number of congloms, many of them European, Canadian–I lose track–but Germany last I looked had the lead. Publishing is only a small part of the congloms’ holdings and profit is what moves the shakers so every manuscript must have bestseller written all over it, which makes sense–it’s good business. The problem is fickle readers. After fifteen or so spinoffs of the same novelty, they move to another interest.

Is all hope lost? No. There are small presses and some university presses picking up the slack and publishing fiction now–mysteries included. They do not as a rule deal with agents because their advances are small and agents rake in fifteen per cent and fifteen percent of small is--. (When I started writing it was ten.) Your chances of being turned down by a small press are high, because of the sheer volume of submissions, but better than none at all. When you need an agent–say when your meagerly published book is noticed by someone higher in the food chain, say it happens to suddenly fit into the newest trend, or deal with the latest excitements on the news–you can’t predict these things ahead of time–you’ll be there. That’s the time to approach an agent, with a similar manuscript.

And you readers who just want something to read that will suit your tastes and interests should be thankful these new upstart publishers exist. After the thirty-second spinoff of the Da Vinci Code hits the stores you’ll be driven to watching reality shows on television!

Writing a novel is no easy task and there are countless how-to books out promising to be useful. I sold the first novel I wrote, but found the best teachers were the novels of others I enjoyed most. I asked myself what I enjoyed most about them and tried to dissect them into scenes and categories and it didn’t work. On a camping trip to the Arizona desert with–a toddler, a husband, and a black Labrador, I somehow discovered the beginning of a story. Three years and another child later I had my first book. And the contract for that book with an option for the second and, yes, through an agent–when there were forty major publishers. It takes guts, stamina, and a huge amount of luck. The world may be growing short of readers with the increasing numbers of modes of distraction and stimulation at hand, but there will always be an abundance of those trying to write and publish. Which doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try too. Just don’t quit your job and starve your children. It’s a good ride, a worthy goal–with writers’ conventions and local classes and book clubs, and meeting others with similar enthusiasms–whether you ever publish. I’ve traveled all over on "book" business–signings, research, conventions, met fabulous people I would not have otherwise. And the world’s a mess and my yard still has weeds, but . . . .

Marlys

Editing as Procrastination

I am currently working on a book I thought would be easy. The character is a hoot, the pace is quick, the plot convoluted and deliciously funny. So why am I still waiting to type "The End"? I can't answer that as glibly as I'd like. It's ... difficult. So while the idea sprang fully formed into my mind, the character sketch took some time, as did the location research, as did the plotting, as does the editing as I go along -- that's one of my specialties -- editing as procrastination -- and then, finally, eventually, I exhaust all excuses for not finishing the damn manuscript and get to the end.

So while I'm working on getting to the end of this book, I thought I'd share with you some of the things I look for when I'm doing a final pass on my manuscript before sending it off into The Void. (AKA the US Postal Service)

Commatosis: The liberal sprinkling of commas in sentences where only one (at most) is needed.

Very-osis: The unintentional overuse of the word "very" and a weak adjective instead of taking the time to think of a stronger single word.

Repetitivitis:  (If anyone can come up with a better spelling that than, please let me know. I need one.) 1) The use of the same word or phrase more than one time within the confines of a typeset page. 2) Using the same word or phrase more than once within the same paragraph. 3) Using the same word or phrase within the same sentence when using the same word or phrase is clunkier than using a different word or phrase.

Typing Dyslexia: Mardon me Padam. May I sew you to your sheet? The use of real or imaginary words within a sentence due to a typographical error, which may unintentionally send your critique group/agent/editor but hopefully not the person buying your book in the store into gales of laughter. I actually had one of my TD moments make it to print. This is NOT a Good Thing.

WhoThatWhich: Who is for people...still haven't figured out how to solve the pesky problem of that which is appropriate. (As you can clearly see here.)

Descriptivity: Do all the character's physical attributes stay pretty much the same from beginning of the book to the end, only changing to reflect the actual plot of the book? (One character had three different color eyes within the space of two chapters. She was extraordinary, but not in that way. I had to fix it.

Confluence of the Time/Space continuum: Do characters have enough time to get from the setting of one scene to the next without breaking all the laws of nature? (Or is this book going cross-genre?)

Apostrophitis: It's hard to tell when an apostrophe is used in its correct place.

Once I run all those tests, then all I have to do is read the whole thing to see if it makes any sense, let my critique group have at it -- and then fix all the hidden problems. Then I finally get to go mail the book off into the world and hope it only comes home again when it's earning its keep.

Back to work now. Pages to go before I sleep.

Julie

On being between books

by Donna

I had a chicken broth milkshake just now.

Not intentionally.  I was making myself a normal homemade chocolate milkshake.  Couple scoops of ice cream in a glass, pour in some milk, stir it around a bit with a knife, and drink.  Except I was out of fresh milk.  I reached into the pantry for a carton of Parmalat and got a carton of chicken broth instead.  Didn't notice till I started pouring it on top of the ice cream.

Oops.

I poured off the broth, rinsed the ice cream a little, and mixed up some powdered milk to finish off the milkshake. It's okay.  I guess. 

Normally I only do stupid stuff like this when I'm in the middle of a book.  I was a little distracted--remembering that I had to blog today for the Femmes.  But usually working on a blog entry doesn't make me go into that walking-into-walls-zone.  So what's wrong?

Maybe I miss being in that zone.

It's not that I don't have plenty of things to do.  Got a couple of short stories I'm working on.  A couple of articles to write.  Couple of things to read and critique for friends.  Various PR tasks--the PR we have always with us.  Bits of work for MWA, and Sinc, and Malice Domestic.  Holiday planning.  Family plans.  And a lot of stuff I want to get done around the house.  I recently made enough progress at decluttering and organizing the garage that I can park the car in there again, after more than two years of letting it sit out in the driveway.  There's even more long-postponed decluttering to be done in the basement, and I've promised myself that before I settle into writing the next book, I'll make great progress in the office.  Yes, there's certainly plenty to be done.  Why am I loitering around not doing any of it?

Some days, I enjoy doing all these long-neglected non-writing chores.  Other days, like today, I feel restless, dissatisfied, vaguely guilty that I'm not putting in quality time at the computer churning out pages.

Nancy Pickard and Lynn Lott, in their book Seven Steps on the Writer's Path, call this stage "unhappiness":

Call this step in the creative process what you will, according to your own experience of it. Name it the 'creative urge,' if you like. Call it an 'itch' or 'creative tension' or 'restlessness' or 'discontent.' Regardless of what label any of us gives this step, it's a common state and the first step for all of us.

Unhappiness, to one degree or another, is where all creativity begins.
(Seven Steps on the Writers Path, p. 9)

Yeah, that's where I am all right.  Experiencing unhappiness.  Only in the Pickardian/Lottian sense, mind you.  I don't feel particularly unhappy today.  I'm still very happy to have turned in the draft of The Penguin Who Knew Too Much, and looking forward to getting the copyedits.  But I can tell that my post-Penguin exhilaration, that sense of jubilation and relief I feel whenever I finish a book, is mutating slowly, imperceptibly, yet inexorably, into the complex and uncomfortable stage of needing to start a book. 

Now that I've realized what's happening, I think I'll get out Seven Steps on the Writer's Path and reread the chapter on step one.  Remind myself how normal it is, this feeling of being slightly at sea because I'm between books.  Get some good advice on how to get through it as productively as possible.  Revel in a feeling that, for a writer, is both as familiar and as fleeting as the fall color.

Then again, maybe I should tackle the basement while there's still time.

You're on, Mr. Fry

by Dana

There’ve been three posts now about B’con, and so I’ll save most of my thoughts about that for my personal blog.  Suffice it to say that I can’t say enough good things about how our panel went (Professional Violence, Amateur Sex:  Action for the Amateur Detective).  Mary did a great job of moderating it—kept it flowing and interesting with great, hand-tailored questions—and my fellow Femmes Toni, Elaine, and Donna, tackled the question with flair, humor, and insight.  As fun as the title was (and we did have some great laughs), it’s a subject that is an important one. Amateur sleuths—those who aren’t PIs or cops or some other kind of professional investigator—make up a large part of the mystery world and depending on the writer’s choice of style, figuring out how to blend violence into the story (always a component of a mystery) or sex (which is often a component of a story) is tricky.  Also vital.  The panel gave me a lot to think about in terms of writing action scenes of any stripe.  Thanks again,  ladies!  And thanks to our audience for asking such great questions.

Some of you may remember my blog about poetry back in August, and how I occasionally dabble, but decently out of public sight.  While I was out touring with Donna, Elaine, and Jessica Speart, I saw a copy of Stephen Fry’s The Ode Less Travelled:  Unlocking the Poet Within.   Fry, on the cover copy, makes the claim that “poetry is a primal impulse within all of us.  I believe we are all capable of it…”  I have the greatest respect for Fry as an actor (he’s brilliant in Blackadder II, Jeeves and Wooster, and in many movie roles, including his voiceover as the Guide in the latest movie version of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) and as a writer (The Liar is by far my favorite), but that statement brought me up short with a disbelieving “au contraire, mon frere.”   Literally.  I spoke French (or something approximating it) aloud in the bookstore.  With that gauntlet flung at my feet, I had to check it out. 

I guess was anticipating the more acerbic side of Fry’s public personality (no clue what he’s like at home), so I was surprised to find how inviting, how incredibly gentle the book is.  Yes, he makes the distinction between in-born talent and learned technique, and yes, he admits that there’s a lot of potential to write true crap (I skipped right to the section called “Poetic Vices;” with a name like that, wouldn’t you?).  But he also points out that most of us are chucked into the deep end, told to express ourselves but not taught how to write poetry, and why shouldn’t we learn how if we want to noodle around?  Fry acknowledges the fact that there’s any number of books, videos, whathaveyou, to get you started in painting, music, and other arts, but darned few address poetry.  What I like so much about the idea of the book is that it is easy to sneer at the reams of badly written poetry in the world or mock the fear that comes with writing and reading poetry, but this tries to do something about it.  I love it when someone lights that single candle.

As far as I’ve read, I’m into it.  He’s covering the basics without assuming the reader is a dullard.  He’s got heaps of examples from the canon.  And he’s written examples of each form (Heroic Verse, Pindaric Ode, The Ballard, etc.) as a mnemonic describing it—which is helpful and very funny (and also takes the sting out of trying to do one yourself).  He’s got exercises and a glossary, so dear to the heart of the girly-swot.

You’re on, Mr. Fry.  I agree to abide by the terms and conditions of this book.

Con Fan-atic

by Mary

Are you a con addict? I love them. I go to as many mystery conventions as I can. It's an expensive habit. As Toni pointed out in her blog, writers often talk about the worth of going to cons when the costs of travel - in money and time - can't be recouped on any given trip. Still, we can take care of writing business in the ways Toni mentions.

This year's Bouchercon was a blast. Sure, I did my author stuff. But when I don't have to concentrate on business, my brain flips over into Fan Mode at cons. The Bouchercon organizers - Chair Al Abramson, Programming Chairs Kate Buker and Jodi Bollendorf, and the rest of the Madison gang - put together four days of non-stop action for mystery fanatics like me. I've never been so busy with so many 'have-to' events and panels to see.

If you're reading this, you're a mystery fanatic yourself. Come on, admit it. What I'd like to do today is convince fans who have never attended a mystery convention to do so. Maybe you've been thinking about it but don't know what to expect. Or maybe you're afraid you'll feel out of place. I can understand being shy. After all, if you're a book fiend, chances are you're more of an introvert than non-book fiends who are out doing whatever extroverted people do in their spare time. So, here are a few things I love about being a fan at a mystery con:

Hearing Writers Talk About Books - What could be better? Mystery cons usually have panels, with four or five authors each, scheduled through the day. These are so much fun. There's something about a table full of writers that makes everyone want to cut up. My experience has been that mystery authors are the nicest people on earth, and it really shows when they get together to talk about what we all love most - books. This year, I moderated a panel of all Femmes, though I did very little moderating. Donna, Toni, Elaine and Dana are such pros that they needed no encouragement to talk and laugh together in a terrific discussion on amateur sleuths. All I had to do was sit back and enjoy the show with the rest of the fans.

Meeting Online Friends - No doubt about it, seeing friends you know from online groups is the best part of any convention. Going to a strange town and into a convention for the first time can be daunting for shy bookworms. When you have a group of ready-made friends from an online mystery group (and there are a whole bunch of them who attend cons) any worries about feeling out of place are gone in no time. Here's a photo of three online buddies I got to meet in person for  the first time in Madison. Fran Read, Lisa Campbell, and 'Gumshoe' Carl Brown belong to 4 Mystery Addicts, my fave online discussion group. It's great to have friends to tell you about panels you missed or to hear about which famous author they spoke to in the hall. Here's another pic of 4MA friends, Barbara Seranella, who won the Anthony Award this year for Best Short Story, and Her Em-inence Em Bronstein who gets a blessing from Queen Barbara.

The Book Dealers' Room - At each con, sellers set up booths in one large room where readers buy books they want to get autographed by their favorite authors. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at the sight of so many mystery books in one place. It's like Candyland for grown-ups.  This is the place to get recommendations. Booksellers can direct you to new authors you might like, based on the ones you enjoy now. Plus, many have book-related goodies to sell, like t-shirts and jewelry, in addition to new, used, rare and special edition books.

Stargazing - As much fun as the previous three best things about cons are, the one absolutely, very best thing is getting to see the authors you love in person. Maybe if you were at a convention of academic non-fiction writers who think too highly of themselves, you might get snubbed. This will never happen at a mystery convention. The biggest stars of our world are also the kindest, friendliest ones. The big name authors haven't really come to sell books. Their books sell when they're sitting at home watching a ball game. They come to cons to meet fans. When they've spent a year or more pouring their hearts into a book, they want to come out of hiding to listen and talk to the people who appreciate their work.

In Madison, I got to see two authors I've read for years but never seen before at a convention, Don Winslow and Thomas Cook. What a thrill. One afternoon, while volunteering at the Mystery Writers of America booth, Margery Flax, the MWA office manager, saw me slack-jawed and trembling upon seeing my favorite author in the world, Ken Bruen.  In typical Margery fashion, she went straight to him, brought him over, and introduced me while I tried not to blubber. God bless him, he's such a wonderful guy. Thanks to new author Julia Buckley, a lovely young lady also at the MWA booth, for taking this picture so I could remember the moment.

Have I convinced you? I hope so. Treat yourself to a mystery convention, large or small, and you won't regret it. There's nothing better than meeting new friends who share your passion for books, or seeing the fine people who create stories you love.

Cheese Soup and Baraboo

By the time this gets posted, I'll be enjoying the tail end of Bouchercon, but I'm actually writing this on the Wednesday before Bouchercon starts, and leaving it with my husband Steve to do the dirty work on my scheduled posting date. Complicated? A bit, but this is only a small piece of the planning and rearranging I've had to do to go to this convention. I can't help but ask myself the question: Is it worth it?

That's is a frequent discussion among writers. When you add up the cost of travel and compare it to the amount of royalty money I'm likely to earn at a convention, and add in the work it takes to manage personal and professional obligations, it doesn't seem like a good buy.

So why is it that Bouchercon is my second convention of the year, and why do I have two more conferences scheduled for between now and Christmas? Why do I keep doing this?

TO SELL BOOKS:

Even if I don't sell zillions of books at the convention itself, I'm planting seeds for later sales. I meet booksellers who might be interested in stocking my books. I meet librarians who might become more interested in ordering my books for their collections. I meet readers who might be interested in picking up copies when they get home. All of that applies not just to my current book, but to all of my books.

Another opportunity is the chance to arrange signings and events in the area around the convention's locale. I'd never gone to San Diego before Left Coast Crime there a few years back, but once I decided to go, I also went to go sign books at the Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore.

TO PUBLISH BOOKS AND STORIES:

Mystery publishing is a small world, but it's scattered. So my best shot at getting face time with my current editors is at conventions. And probably just as important, I get to meet potential future editors, too: book editors, magazine editors, and anthology editors are thick on the ground. Networking is the name of the game in all businesses, and publishing is no exception.

It's also a great way to see where the field is going, to see what's selling and what sparks readers' interest. You can spot a lot of trends by seeing which panels get the most attendees, and which books sell out the fastest in the dealers' room.

TO DO RESEARCH:

Most mystery conventions have tracks of programming about real-life crime investigation. I've learned about tracking people, working as a PI, computer forensics, and I don't know what all from sitting through panels. Plus I get a chance to meet some of these experts so I have people to call on when I have questions later on. Networking again.

And just like going to new places gives me new places to promote my books, it gives me a chance to go new places for research. I've gone to the Smithsonian several times while in D.C. for Malice Domestic, and while I'm in Madison for Bouchercon, I'm taking a day trip to nearby Baraboo to research circuses.

TO HAVE FUN:

And honestly, this may be the most important reason. Because if I didn't have fun at conventions, that other stuff wouldn't convince me to spend three solid days shopping for clothes, shoes, and pocketbooks. When most of my days are spent solo at a computer, there's nothing more fun than diving into a crowd of mystery people. I hang with other readers to compare notes on favorite books. I talk with writers to complain about the state of the industry. I hang with friends from all over the world. In Wisconsin, I get to eat cheese soup!

So that's why I'm writing this early, so you can read it while I'm at Bouchercon. Or even better, I hope you're at Bouchercon with me!