A Round Table Discussion on Diversity in Crime Fiction

Sisters in Crime, a national organization founded to promote women in publishing, each year selects one individual to receive the Eleanor Taylor Bland Award, established in 2014 to give emerging voices in the crime and mystery world a leg up, both through a grant and through mentorship opportunities. The Award is currently open to submissions from authors with unpublished manuscripts. You can find more information here.

To celebrate the award and in order to examine the vital role that grants and mentorship play in diversifying fiction, we caught up with three of the crime world’s most respected voices: Rachel Howzell Hall, Alex Segura, and Lori Rader-Day. 

Rachel Howzell Hall is the author of the acclaimed Lou Norton series, as well as most recently the bestselling standalone They All Fall Down. She is currently on the board of directors for the Southern California chapter of Mystery Writers of America, and lives in Los Angeles. Her next novel, And Now She’s Gone, will be published in September 2020. You can find her at www.rachelhowzell.com and on Twitter @RachelHowzell.

Lori Rader-Day is the Edgar Award-nominated and Anthony Award- and Mary Higgins Clark Award-winning author of several stand-alone mysteries. She co-chairs the mystery conference Murder and Mayhem in Chicago and serves as the national president of Sisters in Crime. Her new book is The Lucky One, set in a true-crime amateur online sleuth community. You can visit her online at loriraderday.com.

Alex Segura is an acclaimed writer of novels, comic books, and podcasts, including the Pete Fernandez Mystery series and the Lethal Lit crime/YA podcast from iHeart Radio. You can visit him online at alexsegura.com.

Lori, let’s start with a little background on the award—how did the Eleanor Taylor Bland Award come to be?

Lori Rader-Day: The award was created in 2014 with a bequest from Eleanor Taylor Bland’s estate to support Sisters in Crime’s stress on supporting diversity in crime writing. (She died in 2010.)

Why is Eleanor Taylor Bland widely regarded as a crime fiction pioneer?

LRD: Bland’s Dead Time (1992), the first in her series of mystery novels, was a first appearance for African American police detective Marti MacAlister, who begins the series as a widow of a fellow police officer with two children who faces the challenges of a black, working woman while seeking justice for the crimes that plague her town. “I wanted a believable character who has some of the problems that real women do,” she told the Chicago Tribune at the time of her first book’s publication.

Bland’s book came out within a month of Barbara Neely’s Blanche on the Lam, so the two together were really the vanguard of African American women’s crime fiction, leading the way for all the kinds of stories women of color can tell.

Why is this initiative important to Sisters in Crime?

LRD: Sisters in Crime began as an organization to diversify crime fiction, and it remains an organization to diversify crime fiction. We’re genuinely excited to be able to help an up-and-coming writer, someone with an exciting new vision for what crime fiction can be. As readers, we want to read these books, and we want our community to remain vibrant with new voices and ideas.

Why are grants and mentorship so important to getting an author’s career started? Who is someone that you’d like to thank for giving you a leg up in your own career?

LRD: A grant like the Sisters in Crime Eleanor Taylor Bland Award means access to classes, interaction with other writers, and a chance to become a part of the greater community long before that first book is viable. It gets writers in the door sooner so that they can find beta readers for early work, secure referrals to agents and editors, find the help they need and have a source of community for all their questions, even blurbs when the time comes. A lot of writers think they have to be published before they can enter a writing community, but it’s not true, and this grant opens the door wide.

My first mystery mentor was Terence Faherty, who told me I was a crime writer. I had to be told. And then Clare O’Donohue got me involved with the mystery community and organizations—really, she just wanted me to help her run our MWA chapter—and talked me up to her agent, who became my agent. I had so many more mentors, though, because I had access to the mystery community through Sisters in Crime. The better part of mentoring is modeling professional behavior and letting the up-and-coming writers ask you questions, so in a way all the published authors who welcome aspiring writers are mentoring them. This grant formalizes that process a bit, and gets the new writer into the places where she or he can meet those she can learn from, both formally and informally.

 Rachel Howzell Hall: Writing is hard—and seeing yourself as a writer can be even more difficult. Mentors share their own hardships with new writers. They encourage and cheerlead and remind the newbie that success does not come overnight. Mentors introduce new writers to their writer friends, recommend these new authors for panels or readings. Mentors provide a safe space for new writers to cry, whine, express fear and ask questions that may seem dumb.

Grants can help get you in the room—at a conference, in a class, on a panel, in a library. Grants can help pay for developmental editors or printer cartridges.

Hank Phillippi Ryan, thank you. Early on, Hank used her platform to introduce me to the world. She’s given me great advice and cheered me on and I’ll be forever grateful to her. Of course, my agent Jill Marsal and editor Kristin Sevick are both phenomenal—Kellye Garrett once told me that my relationship with Kristin is #goals.

Aex Segura: A mentor—someone who believes in you and is willing to share advice and guidance—is so valuable. It validates you in a way that you can’t quantify. It’s a boost during that long stretch of time before you even have a book out there, or an agent. When I was just thinking about writing my first novel, Silent City, I mentioned it in passing to Brad Meltzer—a writer I greatly admire and I’m lucky to call a friend. I was just a PR guy who happened to work with some great writers. He stopped me mid-sentence and said “Alex, I want you to tell me when you’re done. Then I want you to send me the book. I’ll blurb it. I hope that helps in some way.” And it really did. Before I had an agent, before I had a book deal, before anything—I had the validation from this established writer. More importantly, he was kind and willing to help. It meant the world to me. Still does. We all need people like that. It’s a big reason why I try to give back as much as I can. It matters. It’s a light in that dark period before we’re even published.

Were there missteps you made early in your career that could have been avoided if you’d had access to resources such as the Eleanor Taylor Bland Award?

RHH: Oh, yeah. I didn’t want to impose on experts by asking them lots of questions. If I’d been around the community more—workshops and SinC meetings, for instance—I would’ve known that experts are also novelists, that experts enjoy sharing their experiences with earnest crime writers. I would’ve had the resources to attend great conferences earlier, like California Crimewriters Conference.

What’s one of your favorite publishing success stories with a winner from previous years?

LRD: Our most recent success story is Mia Manansala, who just got a three-book cozy mystery deal! Her debut novel, ARSENIC AND ADOBO, comes out in 2021 from Berkley/Penguin Random House. She won the ETB in 2018, but she’s been active in Sisters in Crime and other organizations for some time, going to conferences, meeting people, and taking her chance to learn everything she could. She was an ideal candidate for the award, as a young mystery writer of color, and she was poised to turn her prize into classes, writing retreats, and other benefits that got that first book written, agented, and soon to be published. We’re thrilled for her, and we know she won’t be the last Eleanor Taylor Bland winner to see some publishing success. This business takes time and perseverance—but that’s why we think this program can help writers to stay encouraged and working.

Rachel, your debut novel was published in 2002, and Alex, your Pete Fernandez series debuted in 2016 with SILENT CITY and the fifth book, MIAMI MIDNIGHT, came out in August of 2019. What changes have you noticed in the publishing industry landscape that are/were particularly relevant for authors of color since the time when you were working on your first novel?

RHH: My first novel was published on the first anniversary of 9/11—September 11, 2002. That, in itself, was a heavy lift in terms of marketing a first-time black author from Los Angeles writing about a Los Angeles black family faced with mental illness. So, there was that. Also, the landscape for black books leaned toward ‘urban’ fiction—a sort of East Coast, dirty-snow, high-rise tenement sensibility that my stories didn’t have. You either had to write slavery narratives or drug-dealing-prostitute-rat-a-tat stories—anything in between wasn’t ‘black’ enough. It’s better today—authors of color can write pretty much anything they’d like. Having that land a publishing contract on the other hand…

AS: In terms of diversity, people are speaking up more—about the kind of books they want to read, the kind of books they want to write, and so on. The polite silence is gone, which is really important, because the only way we’re going to see actual, concrete change is by having really uncomfortable conversations about the world in general, and publishing in particular. When my first novel came out, I felt like a novelty—and honestly, in some circles was treated as one. “Oh, it’s so nice to see a Latinx character doing these things! And by a Latinx writer, no less!” And now, it’s less so—it feels like I’m part of a big crew of diverse writers—different generations, too. It’s uplifting, really. It’s not perfect, but it’s changing, and I’ve seen a lot of that happen over my relatively short career.

What challenges did you face early in your career that you felt were/are specific to authors of color?

AS: I think I faced a lot more ignorance than maybe a white male author would get. Of what Latinx means—I got a lot of “Oh, I had no idea you were X,”-type comments because I just happen to be white. I was on a lot of diversity panels instead panels about the craft, or character. And look, I have a lot to say about writing a Cuban-American character, or about Latinx crime fiction, or what-have-you, but sometimes you just want to talk about the craft, or the process, like all the other writers at a convention. It was nice to be included, of course—but as a writer of color, you don’t want to just get into the room anymore. You want to be on the same stage, to share your take on things, because it’s not just enough to be in the room anymore.

The last thing a writer of color wants is to be treated like a novelty, or to be tacked on to any given thing—an event or whatever—in an effort to meet some kind of quota. There’ve been many times where I felt like the only writer of color at a given panel or event and it does create a weird, solitary feeling. That’s changed a lot over the years. I was on the Best Novel panel at Bouchercon last year and it was so nice to not only be one of a few writers of color on the dais, but also just one of two men up there, too.

So, to answer your question—I think the big challenge for me, early on, was overcoming that idea that the Pete books were a cool little tweak on the PI genre—“Hey, and the lead is Cuban-American!”—instead of being part of a bigger thing, one that predated my books and continues to evolve beyond them.

Alex, you also write several comics series. What differences do you see in the comics and crime fiction publishing arenas as far as opportunities for writers of color?

AS: I think I see more similarities than differences. There’s been a great uptick in diverse stories being told by diverse people, and like I noted earlier, less hesitation to speak up. I think the blowback has been a little different in comics, especially when you see not only the writers and artists becoming more diverse, but the characters—including versions of iconic IP—doing so, too. Change doesn’t come easy. But it’s important to not only have conversations about diversity, but to see it enacted—and to create stories that will resonate with readers of all ages. The impetus for creating Pete Fernandez came from a desire to see a Cuban-American like me in the role of PI, vs being the funny sidekick or “diversity” cameo. I wanted someone I could relate to as the star, because I knew there were stories to tell in that world. It’s so important for people to be able to find stories they can connect to—they can see themselves in. It makes you feel like you’re counted. That’s something I think about a lot.

Rachel, what patterns have you noticed in publishing in general and/or crime fiction in particular about how black authors are represented and/or black characters are presented? Has there been a shift in those patterns?

RHH: Now more than ever, there are more black authors in the room—at conferences, in readings, on blogs. We now have to move from only being on panels about diversity and asked solely about diversity. I’m a mom, a fundraising writer, a cancer survivor, a plotter, a native Angeleno … I am many things, which means I can talk about a whole lot more.

And Alex, what observations have you made about Latinx representation in publishing in general and/or crime fiction in particular?

AS: It’s getting better, but it’s nowhere near where it should be. That’s my general thought. For every glimmer of inclusion or diversity or acceptance, I see us continue to struggle for awareness and understanding. I think that only changes when the people making the decisions become more aware of the wider world and the power their decisions have, and when those roles are diversified, too.

The controversy surrounding American Dirt really hit me hard, and I felt it drove me to be more vocal about these things. I’m really hesitant to bash a book. Life’s too short and there are so many good books out there. In this instance, it was less about the content of the novel, and more about positioning—and how that positioning took something away from a potential writer of color who might have been able to tell a more valid story. Because, from my perspective—as someone who’s worked as an author but also in editorial and marketing—it was clear that the flaw in that situation was marketing. The book was being positioned as a book that spoke to a certain, specific experience—it claimed to be valid and important and true. When, to me, it just felt like a crime novel at the border—which is not as unique, but also not as heavy a position to occupy. So to take that opportunity away from a potential writer of color—someone who can truly speak to that migrant experience and would benefit from this massive media and marketing campaign—it just felt wrong, and it hit me hard, as the son of Cuban immigrants who experienced something akin to what the book was going for. It also shortchanged really talented writers who had written about the border crisis so eloquently already, in favor of a more “palatable” version that could be marketed more easily. And it also felt like a disservice to the material, which I don’t think was written with the idea of being this Grapes of Wrath-like commentary. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am.

In short, things are better—but we have a long way to go.

What do you think is the biggest obstacle when it comes to diversifying mystery and crime fiction?

RHH: The gatekeepers are the biggest obstacle—from acquiring diverse fiction to marketing those writers who have landed contracts. New writers may find that editors don’t think their characters are ‘special’ enough or that readers won’t connect with diverse leads. There’s the marketing obstacle that all writers face—and the obstacles writers of color face are doubly-hobbled.

For published writers, it’s difficult to find an audience in a genre where older white women are the biggest consumers. More readers will see themselves in werewolves and Martian fairies than a black detective. I think some readers are unwilling to see past color and are willing to believe that a writer of color has nothing relevant for their life experience.

AS: Rachel is absolutely right. I think the path to publication is much more fraught for diverse writers—more complicated. The hurdles that are challenging to any writer—finding an agent, selling a book, getting publicity, getting on a panel at a convention—are much harder for writers of color. It’s just a fact. All of those steps are usually overseen by entrenched gatekeepers who might not understand that, unfortunately, not everyone’s path is equal.

LRD: I think we’re seeing more diversity in crime writing—though we have a way to go before every one is represented well—but what I worry about are the long-term careers. We have historically seen women writers and writers of color struggle to keep publishing. It’s important to have a strong start out of the gate, to get the access to audiences and connections in the industry that could help an early career author get established and build for the long term. 

Although some progress has been made in the realm of #OwnVoices stories in crime fiction publishing, what changes are you still hoping to see?

RHH: I would love to see even more crime stories published—we have so many stories to tell, and from our perspective. I would also hope to see these authors receive better marketing and more visibility—in mainstream audiences and communities of color.

AS: I’d like to see a slate of upcoming books and feel like it represents the world a bit better, instead of it feeling like someone’s idea of what might be okay to do—if that makes sense. We live in a diverse world, loaded with so many different, beautiful people. We don’t look, act, sound or behave the same. We all have different backgrounds and beliefs and cultures. I want to read stories about that. I want to learn about the challenges people face in different places and under different circumstances that are not my own.

I don’t think there will ever be a time where organizations like Sisters in Crime, Crime Writers of Color, or things like the Bland grant aren’t needed—because there will always be writers who are deserving of more attention or an added boost, who get lost in the publishing shuffle. But I do hope we reach a moment where we can avoid some of the boneheaded mistakes that I think are the growing pains of what the entire industry is going through, or byproducts of ignorance—moments where you slap your head and just wonder ‘who signed off on this?!’ or ‘did they really just say that?’ I feel as people get more vocal, you’ll see those moments called out more clearly, and that’s good—because it’s part of a bigger, ongoing discussion we have to have—about race, representation, diversity—if we want things to get better.

And to finish things off–can you recommend an #OwnVoices book out this year?

AS: If Rachel wasn’t doing the interview with me, I’d suggest her latest. See what I did there?

Also—everyone needs to put S.A. Cosby’s Blacktop Wasteland on their radar. I couldn’t let it go. Poetic, raw, unflinching and powerful. It blends the best elements of Mosley, Lehane, and Pelecanos, which is pure honey for me as a reader.

RHH: I’m looking forward to the second book in Tori Eldridge’s ninja series The Ninja’s Blade. And then, there’s Tracy Clark’s third in the series What You Don’t See… 

You asked for one, huh?

LRD: How long do I have? I like Vivien Chien’s cozy series, and she has a new one, Egg Drop Dead. Also a huge fan of Kristen Lepionka’s Roxane Weary PI series; the one out in July is called Once You Go This Far. And of course I have to mention that Chicago’s own Tracy Clark, who won the 2020 G.P. Putnam’s Sons Sue Grafton Memorial Award as part of the Mystery Writers of America’s Edgar Awards for her 2019 novel, Borrowed Time, has the latest in her Cass Raines PI series out in May. It’s called What You Don’t See. They are all Sisters in Crime members and also terribly talented.