On the road again: Bouchercon, day 5

I rose early (for me) so I could attend an interview with the main Guest of Honor, Laura Lippman, by relatively new but widely heralded writer, Michael Koryta. Though not as informative as some interviews, this one was nonetheless well worth attending. Lippman came off as intelligent, passionate, and as quirky as one expects a writer to be.

I ended up standing near the back wall, almost in front of the door, because I came in just as the interview was beginning. A man slid in right after me and leaned against the wall about six feet to my left. He had no con badge, but enough folks recognized him that they let him in. He was Dennis Lehane, whose new novel, The Given Day, was an immediate bestseller upon its release. Lehane wasn't on the program, and he kept as low a profile as he could in that crowd. He just came because he cares, at least about crime fiction and writing and possibly about Lippman; I have no clue if they are friends. (No, don't read "cares" as implying any sort of secret relationship; I mean it entirely innocently.)

Lehane's appearance and many other small things I saw today again convinced me that the sense of fellowship and community among crime fiction writers is very strong indeed. I like that about them, like it very much. I do hope one day to have the time to finish my thriller and perhaps become part of that world as a writer. (No one in it notices that my books are mysteries, though I am, as I've written, trying to change that perception.)

And now, because I heard it earlier today and we all need to listen to it now and then, here's an old Dylan classic. Enjoy.