I’m appalled to discover just how often that urge does hit. Like a rat in a Skinner box, I’d become conditioned by infrequent, random rewards to keep pressing that lever. Now, even though it’s not sitting next to me anymore, I still find myself thinking about “getting on the computer” every few minutes.

The worst part is that I knew what was happening to me and couldn’t break the cycle. I’d frequently tell myself that I should put the computer away, only to turn it back on moments later. Thank goodness for shoddy parts. I’m too cheap to spend money repairing the machine or replacing it, so I’ll have to find something else to do with my time instead of continuously reinforcing a useless conditioned reflex.

I was stunned that guest of honor David Morrell not only remembered me from Murder in the Grove 2008, but recalled several things we’d talked about. I got to spend a good ten minutes or so talking with him between panels on Friday and again after lunch on Saturday.

Agent Donna Bagdasarian also remembered me from a past conference. We exchanged maybe two sentences at last year’s Sleuthfest, but during a Friday Q & A session, she spotted me with my hand up and said, “You in the glasses. I know you.” Unfortunately, I’d forgotten that my sunglasses were on my head, so I looked behind me to see who she was talking to. So… now one of the most sought-after agents in the biz knows I’m a flake. C’est la vie. She’d have found out eventually anyway; it’s not like I can hide it.

My biggest regret of the weekend was that there weren’t two of me. Several forensics panels ran concurrently with panels on craft and business that I felt like I couldn’t miss, so I didn’t get to play with fingerprints, learn about blood spatter, or explore the nuances of probable cause. Sweetie attended those panels, though, so I can pick her brain when I have questions.

Meanwhile, in the panel on plotting, Rhonda Pollero gave us a worksheet called “Creating Trouble in Paradise.” It’s a plotting tool that could also be called “The Care and Feeding of Red Herrings.” Before the panel began, I’d remarked to my seatmate that I struggle with how to weave multiple suspects into a plot in a way that doesn’t make the real killer obvious yet doesn’t leave the reader feeling cheated. Moments later, the answer was literally handed to me. This worksheet will come in handy as I revise my current work-in-progress.

Saturday’s spotlight panel was a Q&A session with Barbara Poelle of the Irene Goodman Literary Agency. Not everyone who attends the conference has a polished manuscript ready to pitch, so Sleuthfest organizers provided this opportunity for us. This was a brilliant idea. Instead of feeling compelled to pitch, we were able to sit around a table and ask questions about pitching and about the publishing industry in general. Barbara’s inside scoop punctured more than a few myths about getting published–like you don’t have to be a veteran private investigator to publish a P.I. novel. You do have to write a damned good novel, but I think I’m up to that. I left the session feeling like I have a good chance at achieving my dream of world domination publication.

In addition to attending panels, I connected with fellow writers, both published and not, over card and dice games at the bar. I made new acquaintances and forged deeper friendships with people I’d met in previous years. I was sad to see it end, and I look forward to next year.

The Lovely Bones

Ray’s way of describing such things made her feel as if she knew exactly what it felt like–not just what it looked like. He could evoke everything for her, with small verbal pulse points of which he was completely unaware.

I love this passage because it captures exactly what good fiction writing is all about. “Show, don’t tell” is a writing mantra, but “show” doesn’t do justice to what good writing should accomplish. A good writer goes beyond what things look like. Cinema and television provide visual imagery much more clearly than words on a page ever can–but good writing gives readers a deeper feeling.

The story I’m revising now is so close, though, that I think it would be counterproductive to pause. I’ll finish it–this week, I think–before I do anything else. But before I start to revise anything else, I need to create something new.