The sun was shining outdoors but inside the Miami Beach Resort and Spa were 225 people with murder on their minds.
Welcome to Sleuthfest, the Florida chapter of the Mystery Writers of America’s 12th annual conference where the published meet the unpublished, the former imparting the secrets of their success to those who believe that publishing a book will change your life.
One of many crime writing conferences (Bouchercon, Left Coast Crime, Thrillerfest, and more), which offer panel discussions, i.e. Sex & Mysteries; Violence; Female Sleuths; as well as technical demos on fingerprinting, weaponry, and interrogation; along with a few benevolent editors and agents who meet one-on-one with hopeful writers.
It’s 9:00 A.M. and I make the mistake of sitting in on "Death Scene Investigations" presented by Miami-Dade’s Deputy Chief ME, Dr. Emma Lew, who looks as if she has stepped off a movie set. She is terrific. The problem is the pictures: blood and guts, bodies bloated by gases and covered with maggots. "You can actually hear the maggots gnawing away," says Dr. Lew, as I try not to lose my breakfast.
I take two aspirin and prepare for my Sex & Mystery panel, where each of us—William Lashner, the team of PJ Parrish, and I—read a short but heavy breathing sex scene to warm up the SRO crowd, which seems to work.
Luncheons with decent food and terrific speakers, Law & Order writer-producer Rene Balcer and onetime chief of New York’s Sex Crimes Prosecution Unit turned thriller writer Linda Fairstein, are impressive, entertaining, and generous with their audience.
Some usual suspects are missing due to a conflicting conference, but several well known crime fiction writers have shown up: Don Bruns, David Corbett, Stuart Kaminsky, Jonathon King, J.A. Konrath, Barbara Parker, Twist Phalen, and writer and Cosmo Editor Kate White. Also on hand are two internet biggies, the mystery world’s Bookbitch, and Carol Fitzgerald of the Book Report.
Unlike Bouchercon, which can attract thousands, Sleuthfest has a familial feel, including a "tradition" to choose the sexiest man at the conference (which I would not mention had I not been nominated—and lost). But I’ll come back for the panels, the good company and my annual murder fix in Florida.
