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. If you want to know how it was for personal, I’ve left my original post over on my sister site at https://www.thepolyblog.ca/was-attending-bouchercon2025-a-success-for-me/.

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:

1. 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;
2. 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;
3. 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;
4. 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:

1. Are you a writer?
2. 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.

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.