Wednesday, September 14, 2022

Another Post about Bouchercon

 Its Tuesday night, but I'm still coming down from my Bouchercon high. 

This was my first time at Bouchercon, the annual convention for mystery / crime writers and fans, and I'm both exhausted and also basking in how great it was. I saw my friends. I saw amazingly deserving people win awards. I saw equally deserving people lose awards with a grace and happiness that I did not expect. I saw one of the greatest writers of our generation in conversation with another of the greatest writers of our generation. I saw a beautiful city and I drank too much and I was on panels and I hugged old friends and made new ones. I had deeply personal conversations and threw up silly jokes. I had people I consider heroes treat me as an equal. I left rejuvenated and ready to write. 

It's a cliche to say that the writing life is a solitary one, but cliches are there for a reason, and this one is true. But standing in a packed bar with so many writers of my favorite genre, I didn't feel alone. I felt part of something larger. A tradition, maybe. Or a community. 

It's Tuesday night and I am still exhausted. It's Tuesday night and I just got done writing and I feel so god damn alive. 

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