That’s a bit of a strange question, isn’t it? I went to a book conference; I was NOT looking for an agent or to promote a book; I had no real defined goals in advance. I didn’t ask “Did I enjoy it?” or “Was it fun / interesting / illuminating / horrible / terrible / no good very bad 4 days?”
I asked if it was a success.
It wasn’t cheap…registration was fine, $250 or so. But staying in the hotel for six nights at $179 US plus my flights plus all my meals, taxis, and minor souvenirs isn’t pocket change. I haven’t added it up completely but it’s probably between 3.5K-4K overall, Canadian. Which I knew in advance, not whinging. Food was a bit more expensive than I expected, with fewer cheap options in the area to get to, but I’ll come back to that.
But with the cost, and the experience tied to it, I find myself wondering of course if it was worth it. Particularly as this wasn’t a family trip, it was just me on my own doing my own thing.
And the trip was a bit of a test for me in three different domains. So if I ask if it is a success, I guess I have to ask if it was worth it in those three areas.
Professional development
The conference ended upfolding a bit different than I was originally expecting. I had never been to a BoucherCon before, and so I didn’t completely know what to expect. I knew there would be technical panels, book signings, meet the author speaking engagements, some gala-like festivities, and awards ceremonies. But I also had seen in past years panels where people talked about genres, favourite villains, etc. Stuff that would appeal more to “fans” of mystery fiction than to “writers” of mystery fiction.
I was interested in all of the above to some degree, and thought I would go experience it all. When the full panel came out, I was pleasantly surprised that it had more of a technical bent to the panels, more about craft than fans, and relatively shocked that there were so many breakout panels. There were over 650 speakers across the four-ish days (mid Wednesday to mid Sunday), with about 18-19 breakout sessions, 6 panels per session, and 1 moderator and 5 speakers per panel.
Normally, when I look at conferences — work or fun — I often look at the breakout sessions and get annoyed. Frequently, I see that two people I want to see are on at the same time, even though there are other opportunities to see them, and then some sessions where I have no interest in any of the guests.
As an aside, I approach the Ottawa FanExpo/pseudo-ComicCon with a very set formula…I go through the full list of guests, I give one point if it is someone that interests me and/or is on a show that I watch(ed) regularly. They will have stories that I will enjoy, no doubt. If they are semi-interesting, but not people I would worry if I missed them at a conference aka not a “must-see”, more of “could be good”, I’ll give them half a point. Then I total up the points, and if it isn’t at least above 5, I pass.
I didn’t really have that goal for this experience, I was going no matter what, although there were some “must-sees” for me for panels. Michael Connelly, for example, was someone I saw three times during the conference (rare to have multiple appearances, just the nature of his status). I really wanted to see Lee Goldberg, which I did.
But the real professional development measure is in all the different panels I went to, against four broad themes:
- WRITING SERIES: Ensemble casts, kick-ass female protagonists, avoiding the pitfalls, maintaining storyline silos, romance in crime fiction, and tips and tricks for keeping a series fresh;
- TECHNICAL ASPECTS OF WRITING: Avoiding the info dump (handling exposition), make ’em laugh, forensics, hooking the reader with great first lines, suspense + action + conflict in mysteries, writing legal mysteries/thrillers, dialogue matters, protagonists with flaws, PIs, reporters as protagonists, and writing action scenes;
- WRITING/PUBLISHING AS A BUSINESS: Overview of the business, publishing undercover, the impact of AI, marketing and promotion, choosing the best publishing path, beyond the conference for learning/networking/developing, and taking a book to screen;
- FAN TOPICS: How writing saved me, the series created by Edward Stratemeyer, interview with Michael Connelly, and Sherlock Holmes and his effect on the genre.
From the perspective of a “learning absorption” metric, either of the first two was worth the price of admission. I learned a lot about managing series, albeit not necessarily the answers to some key questions that I struggle with, mostly because of my poor networking skills. The technical aspects of writing? Awesome list, a bit uneven, but overall fantastic. However, the “business side” was uneven and a bit disappointing in places (although I have a future post on this that more than makes up for it) and the fan topics, while interesting, were all just light desserts in comparison with the initial feast. If it was just the last two, my professional development would be really low; I feel however that the first two did jump-start my muse. So, overall? Technical aspects were a success, even though I couldn’t have predicted that when I first registered.
Professional and personal engagement
On almost any metric except one, my engagement was dismal. I didn’t make any buddies for the conference, I didn’t have coffee or drinks with anyone, I had very superficial engagements with people throughout the conference. This was not unexpected. I hate large groups where I don’t have a defined role. And, to be honest, the first two questions for the conference tend to be:
- Are you a writer?
- Do you have a card with your book information?
Well, no. I’m not in that space. Yet. Nor was I trying to be in that space. I was there to learn, not self-promote (even though there are quite a few people who are in the same state of development but are promoting the heck out of themselves anyway). I mused in previous posts about answering the first question as a blogger, occasional unpublished short-story and play writer, non-fiction writer, and wannabe fiction writer in the future.
I didn’t find a tribe, I didn’t meet a writing partner or soul sister/brother, which is not a slam against Bouchercon. That is about me and my introverted nature when I don’t have a pre-defined role. I can blame some of my anti-social choices at the conference avoiding certain activities on the fact that a cold was kicking my ass, but well, I probably would have bailed on most of the same events anyway. I feel like I would have gone to the WW II Memorial though, that one was mostly the cold. But some of the others? Nah, that was me being a hermit crab.
However, there were three things that I learned about myself that I didn’t know, as a writer going to events and stuff.
Apparently, many new writers are afraid to show their work to other people. I thought that zeitgeist was mostly about people not sharing for the very first time with friends, and later, the fear of submitting to an agent. I didn’t see it as paralysing, perhaps because I did a writing course and was part of a writing / critiquing group. And I have to share my writing around at work all the time. We don’t “own” our text, it is almost always a function of a drafter with multiple inputs / suggestions coming.
I have never balked at sharing my personal writing. No fear, no reluctance. Not really. There were times where I thought, “Oh, I wish it were due Tuesday instead of Sunday, I left myself too little time to do a last fresh read before submitting”, but that was more about my wanting to get feedback on my best version, not on some aspects that even I knew needed to be more polished in the end. But, one of the panels talked about that fear, partly in terms of “where do writers go next” after the conference. Huh. I don’t have that, I thought.
Secondly, apparently, a lot of writers are reluctant to ask questions in large groups. Such as the panel sessions themselves. I never thought about it. I don’t have any problem asking questions. I paid my money, I was going to get my money’s worth, was likely kicking around in my head. But just about EVERY panel, I asked a question. Call it about 15 Qs overall. And I would say about 12 of them “landed” in the sense that it gave them something else to talk about that was a bit different. They had to think for a moment. Even Michael Connelly, who has probably been asked a billion questions from fans, answered my question about whether seeing his books go to screen, and being involved in the experience had made him “write differently” and he gave me a thoughtful answer (about it causing / allowing him to pace his books a bit differently and let the story stretch out a bit more than previously).
I have no reservation, though, about asking questions in large groups. Which is true at work as well, and maybe is carry over, or just a deep arrogance on my part. People at work joke that I regularly do CLMs — career-limiting moves. I have even been in a big session of 400 people, they open it up to the floor for questions, nobody is jumping forward, and an ADM has spotted me and said, “Hey, Paul, you’re not shy, and you usually have questions. Ask away!”. Which I did. I have insecurities, but that is not one of them.
Lastly, the panellists also talked about how some people are afraid to talk to the authors and panellists in the room. Basically, too inhibited or intimidated. The weird part is that such an inhibition is actually bifurcated in my case. Talking to a panellist after the panel, while they’re still up at the front of the room is really easy for me. Sure, I’m intimidated; sure, I’m nervous. But it doesn’t stop me from going up to introduce myself and ask a follow-up question. Defined roles work for me as I’m an analytical introvert by nature. You are panellist with info, I am attendee with questions, let’s talk! But if it was “You are random author at event”, then I suck at the small talk aspects to chat about you, your writing, what you find interesting, etc. I can exchange pleasantries about the weather, or which panel was good, but after that, meh. My social battery starts ringing alarms of needing a charge. 🙂
Now, if I divide the above descriptions into “professional engagement” for the learning and “personal engagement” for the socializing and networking, well, I passed the first with flying colours above what normally afflicts new writers and generally failed miserably on the second. Of course, for others, they probably were the inverse — great at socializing and sucking at professional engagement in panels.
It’s stupid, a bit amateurish, but I actually set myself two goals for the socializing aspect. My first was that I would introduce myself to Lee Goldberg and say “hi!”. I was really hoping David Morrell (of Rambo fame), Elisabeth Wheatley (aka BookGoblin) or Laura Burrows (audiobook narrator) would be at Bouchercon. I follow them online, and although David had responded to say he wouldn’t be there, I was curious if the other two might be. Alas, it was far more technical and mystery focused for either of them, I’m sure, but I had a goal that for any of the four that were there, I would introduce myself. In BookGoblin or Burrows’ case, it would have been simply to thank them for their online content. I quite enjoy their posts even if I don’t read their work. For Morrell, I read his thriller fiction and I love the story of a Canadian writing First Blood as part of his MFA program aka the equivalent of his thesis. And Goldberg, I read lots of his stuff.
I balked at Lee the first time, he seemed busy, I felt like a Grade 9 kid wanting to say hi to a senior. I chickened out and drifted away. The next day, I saw him standing in the conference hall, talking to two other authors, and I waited for a lull and simply introduced myself, thanked him for his panel the day before, told him who I was aka we interacted a few times on his social media as I’m the avatar of a frog, etc. Just brief intro and handshake and then I was off. But I did it.
My second goal was to do SOMETHING more social than what I would default to (aka nothing). So, after the end of each panel, I usually wandered by the podium, and if there was an author that nobody was bugging at that moment, I would interact briefly, just to say, “Hi, I’m Paul from Canada, just wanted to say thanks for the panel, I really enjoyed the discussion.” Or even several someones, including if I wanted to ask a follow-up question. I did it at least once for about 75% of my panels. Yeah, I know, it’s a pathetic attempt at socializing, but it is more than I would normally do, and forced me not to simply fade into the woodwork.
Now, I can’t claim that my personal or professional engagement was a success. But it was interesting to realize that several “weaknesses” that new authors have are not in my head. That was rewarding, I guess.
Personal autonomy
This last category is hard to label. Part of me thinks it is not about the conference at all, while another part says, well, its NOT NOT about the conference.
I am set to retire in 102 weeks or so. Just under 2 years. And the vast majority of my social engagement right now comes from work. At the end of the day, I am both tired and socially lazy. I am not good at maintaining friendships and I do not have an active social calendar outside of my son and wife. I’ve had lots going on in recent years, and it has hurt. Even the weak skills I had have atrophied.
So, I’m worried a bit about my retirement. Some of the things that I want to do are mostly things I’ll do “alone”. I want to write, I want to do more astronomy, I want to kayak. Yes, I can do some of those with others, but it’s not my style, and if I don’t push myself, I might have to change my name from PolyWogg to some form of hermit crab. Here I was, throwing myself into the deep end of a large group, and if socializing and making connections is the equivalent of swimming, I didn’t even tread water well enough to avoid drowning. Not a strong start.
I have also not travelled alone in a long time, yet I am considering a significant tour of North America. How will that work?
I know how I want it to work. I would like, for example, to travel say for a day or two, get to a new location, set up for camping in the van or trailer, and then spend at least a day exploring the area. Maybe that means looking up a kayak group in the area, seeing if they are having any meetups, and emailing to say, “Hey, just in town for a day, looking to kayak for 1-2 hours, experience level x, anyone going out Tuesday morning or afternoon and willing to show me a river / lake / pond etc.?”.
Or I look at Winnipeg, see that they have a RASC Winnipeg Centre, tell them, “Hey, going to be in town for three days, Tu/We/Th next week. Any events / viewings going on? Any one have a place to suggest for visual viewing of blah blah blah type of objects?”.
Or I look at Edmonton, see that they have a local theatre company putting on a play that I like, and going to see it. With or without finding someone to go with.
In short, I’m afraid that my tour degrades from an exploration of landscape, people, cultures (however superficial) and becomes me driving too much, lonely AF, missing Andrea and Jacob as well, and cutting it short because I’m doing nothing, talking to nobody, etc. Andrea’s uncle and aunt used to travel a lot, and were into squaredancing. So when they went to a new area, they frequently found local squaredancing locations and met fellow dancers to chat with, maybe share a meal, etc.
Now, I know in part that I’m catastrophizing the experience. If I’m in a bunch of campgrounds, it’s quite common for them to have group BBQs going on or a band. And a large campfire. Do I want to do something with other people EVERY NIGHT? No, of course not. That’s not me. I’ll likely do a lot of writing. And I like the idea of having a regular routine with jumping off points to keep things fresh.
I’ve mentioned, for example, that we have a friend who I would put in the professional tourist category. She travels a lot and she has this thing that they try to do three things by lunch every day. So that they aren’t wasting days, they do something “big”.
Extrapolating from that, albeit at a smaller pace, I kind of like the idea of three different styles of days…Day One would be mainly a driving day. Not crazy distances, maybe 5 hours worth over the course of the day. Up, breakfasted, stowed and on the road by say 9:30. Drive until lunch or so, with at least one planned stop to look around and take pictures. Lunch could be either in the van (self-made) or at a diner; dinner would be the reverse. So one meal on a driving day would likely be a restaurant where I eat in, too, even if I only chat with the server. No grabbing fast food and eating by myself. Human contact of some kind. The afternoon would be like the morning, a few hours of driving with at least one stop for photos. And have my sleeping location set at least an hour before dark. Boondocking, campground, whatever. If it’s a pure driving day, it has to end at a planned time. Our trip in August to BC had a lot of day ones. And if I’m the only one in the vehicle, aka no navigator or someone to talk to, AND I’m not planning to sleep in a hotel at night, I cannot string dozens of day ones together without putting my life at risk that I’ll be tired and bored while driving.
Day Two would be the opposite end of the spectrum. It would be a down day where I don’t plan on travelling anywhere. Sure, I might have to drive to a place to do astronomy or put a kayak in the water, but I’m not trying to advance the journey, I’m making sure I stop and see what’s around. We had a couple of days in Kelowna and then again in Vancouver during our BC trip, with relatively set experiences planned in advance. Kelowna was nice, but we didn’t do enough in retrospect. We all relatively felt that if we had just gone home from Kelowna at 10 days, we probably would have been content. Of course, Jacob liked the peak-to-peak gondola at Whistler/Blackcomb as the best experience of the trip, and we hadn’t done that yet. So there’s that.
By desire AND as a test, I explicitly gave myself an extra day and a half in New Orleans to play tourist with Day 2 style structures. No conference session to attend, nobody to meet for lunch or dinner, just me on my own, deciding what I would do. Before I left, I had these things on my “possible” list:
- Wander around the French Quarter;
- Go to Jackson Square and see the church;
- Have a po’boy shrimp sandwich;
- Eat beignets at Café du Monde;
- Visit the Aquarium and take pics of penguins;
- Go to the French Market;
- Eat BBQ shrimp;
- Go on a cruise on the river on a paddlewheel/steamboat;
- Go out to the Bayou on an airboat;
- Visit the WWII Memorial;
- Do a ghost walk;
- Do a cemetery tour;
- Visit Bourbon Street;
- Wander along Canal Street;
- Visit the revolving restaurant;
- Listen to live jazz;
- Listen to live blues;
I have spent way too many travel experiences for work where I was alone and did almost nothing touristy. I went to my meetings, I went to my hotel, I ate, I slept, I flew back. I became a hermit crab. F*** that action. How the h – e – double hockey sticks can I even think about a four-month driving trip if I don’t actually DO anything besides drive? That is NOT the life I want. I want to kayak, see shows, and eat local foods. I want to experience regions, not just see the blacktops of roads.
I arrived on Monday at noon, and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do first. I needed food, and I went wandering. I headed into the French quarter, had an amazing milkshake, people-watched, went to Jackson Square, saw live music performances, ate a po-boy shrimp sandwich with more people-watching, ate Beignets, and headed back to the hotel while dragging too many snacks and drinks for the hotel room (I didn’t know there were markets closer to the hotel, sigh). I did four of my list on the first day, and got Vivian’s seal of approval as a good tourist since I didn’t even get there until noon! It was a great day, and I have to admit, I was really proud of myself that I didn’t just turtle. I didn’t feel alone, or that I was pushing myself outside my comfort zone. I just walked and had fun. I even talked to a family at Café du Monde, sitting at the table next to me. Socializing badge unlocked! (Just kidding. Mostly). I considered going on a dinner cruise, but I was a bit tired from the afternoon, and the heat was kicking my ass.
For Tuesday, I was thinking about a morning airboat ride, the Aquarium, and then either a cemetery tour, a dinner cruise, or the ghost walk. I only accomplished the Aquarium but I maxed my visit there. I even had a long conversation with the young guy running the penguin show and a future serial killer / lover of bugs in the Insectarium.
After that, I did eat lunch one day at the Creole House but had a simple breakfast option (the only interesting thing was Creole potatoes, which were breakfast potatoes with a bit of spice). Other than that, the only real exploration aspect was wandering on Canal Street.
I can claim that part of it was the heat, that was true. It was over 30 every day, humidity was 80+%, and it was very uncomfortable even at night. I didn’t really meet anyone at the conference to go out wandering with, and I’m a bit jealous of Lee Goldberg’s posts — he ate out every day all over New Orleans it seemed with his wife, and even though he’s been there before, it was a clear exploration. I would have liked to go to Bourbon Street to see it on a Friday or Saturday night, or even the French Market, but the general advice was you don’t go to either alone. I tend to ignore that advice, most of the time, but I didn’t feel very alert already, not a good combo.
As a test of my future willingness / ability to play tourist by myself, I feel I did great on Monday, okay on Tuesday, and nothing the rest of the week. I realized that it’s not a completely fair “test” though. Some of the things I wanted to do are not next to the hotel, so to speak, it takes effort to get to them and I didn’t have a vehicle nor the energy in the heatwave (the week after I left, it was down to 24 every day!). By contrast, if I want to drive around and go kayaking, in a van, I’d also have to stow everything for transport, go to the kayak location, get everything out and in the kayak, do the actual kayak thing, and then reverse the unloading process while also ensuring everything is dried off. Not as simple as walking to an Aquarium and buying a ticket to wander around an airconditioned exhibit.
I also didn’t worry about money on the trip. It cost what it cost. Even with paying too much for a lot of food in the area, with no easy options to keep the price down, like cooking for myself or carrying a cooler for the day…while we were away, we ended up buying a foldable cooler from Canadian Tire that we used the rest of the trip which saved my butt a few times to have something cold to drink after hiking or whatever. We generally drank our water bottles full of cold water and ice, at least one other drink in the a.m., something new / bought with lunch, and another 1-2 drinks from the cooler during the day. I didn’t even have a decent water bottle for the trip to NOLA.
However, as an aside, I did manage to travel way lighter than I have ever travelled anywhere in my life. Four undershirts, four polo shirts, three pairs of pants, two pairs of sporty shorts, two t-shirts, toiletries, my laptop, two notebooks, knee braces, underwear, socks, etc. I ended up with one more shirt than I needed (I bought two), and one of the pairs of pants wasn’t needed either. But it all fit relatively well in a carry-on, plus my CPAP machine, and my simple shoulder bag/purse. If I do the van thing, I will not have a lot of room for accoutrements.
Overall, I think that means my results were decent — I surprised myself how well I did on the Monday afternoon. I didn’t even recognize myself. Maybe because I was so excited to be in the Big Easy. I try to be forgiving on my day two (literally and figuratively) because I did do the Aquarium, a huge item on my list for the city. And as I said, I maxed that visit. I saw everything there was to see and then some.
And then there are Day Three options for my big planned trip. These would be short hops. Sometimes they would be driving plus an activity, or an activity and then driving, but would not be two long driving hauls.
I feel like my personal goal would be that a Day 1 would be driving x 2 plus stops for pictures (lookouts), a Day 2 would be two activities for the day, and a Day 3 would be one driving plus one activity. I suppose there would also be “write-off” days where I’m either sick of living in a van and staying at a hotel or it’s pouring rain and I’m just sitting reading/writing/doing laundry.
NOLA did worry me about two things in particular. The first wasn’t really a proper test but I spent too much eating out, even if I didn’t have an alternative in NOLA. The second was my homesickness. I video chatted almost every day (I missed one night as my phone was dead) and although free, I wouldn’t want Andrea nor I to feel like we had to chat every night while I was on the road. Maybe some texts some night to let her know I’m still alive, but I’ve read some other people’s experiences and chatting every night or whatever can make it seem like it’s a holding pattern — this is what we do until we’re both in the same city again.
By contrast, I was surprised how important my laptop became. I wasn’t officially planning to take it, it was on my wish list if there was room. But it saved my week…I would have been absolutely a TV watching couch potato or miserable AF if I couldn’t have written my blog each night on the day’s experience. It would be my intention to blog while travelling, even if only to stop me from vegging out each night before bed.
What was the question again?
I asked myself if Bouchercon 2025 and the trip to New Orleans were a success for me.
- Professional Development — an easy yes;
- Personal and professional engagement — mostly a no, BUT I did learn that it isn’t a complete crapfest for my other abilities in this area; and,
- Personal autonomy — the first day was an easy yes, the second day was still good, but the rest of the week was not so much.
If I am truly honest with myself, I will say that it didn’t go as well as I hoped on the professional front but still better than I expected. And to be honest, pretty much the same for the personal side, even if I couldn’t sustain it for seven days straight.
So if I was worried I would implode and it would suck, I guess it was a success that was not the case. Next year’s conference is in Calgary, followed later by Washington, Minneapolis, and Miami. I doubt I will attend another. It was good, but I’m not sure it’s my pathway for the future for writing.
I recently found an article by Kevin Kelly about publishing that blew me away for the content curation. Free compared with $4K Canadian for the conference. That’s a pretty good return on investment. Stay tuned.
