Allison Brennan on the Thrill of Giving Back to the Crime Writing Community

For most of us, writing is a solitary profession. We imagine, we research, we write, we revise. Sure, sometimes we brainstorm with others or call upon experts for information, but when it’s time to put pen to paper—or fingers to the keyboard—it’s only the writer and a blank page.

That solitude is both liberating and isolating. Writers write, it’s what we do, but sometimes we need someone to talk to. That’s when a community of other writers becomes essential. Not as a distraction from writing, but as a support system.

Early in my career, I wrote romantic suspense. A friend introduced me to Romance Writers of America.

I still remember my first meeting in 2003 with the Sacramento Valley Rose RWA chapter. I was seven months pregnant, had written two unpublished books, and walked into a room where the panel consisted entirely of published authors. They didn’t write what I wrote, yet were generous with their time and experience. They shared practical information I hadn’t known, insights into the publishing world I couldn’t have imagined—and I have a vivid imagination. I joined RWA immediately and never regretted it.

I believe I would have been published with or without RWA, but the support of other writers accelerated my path. Those early unpublished days—learning how to craft a query letter and synopsis and how to research agents—were less daunting because of the guidance I received. The generosity of those women jumpstarted my career.

After my first book, The Prey, came out in 2006, I joined both Mystery Writers of America and International Thriller Writers. My goal had always been to move my romantic suspense more directly into pure suspense. I wanted to absorb everything I could from these organizations: meet fellow authors, learn the craft and the business, and understand the community I hoped to fully join.

The first ThrillerFest took place in Phoenix during the blistering summer of 2006. I found myself on a panel with Sandra Brown. I was a nobody; she was an enormously talented and highly successful writer. She was also kind and gracious. Years later she gave me a quote for one of my books. That same conference is where I met many of the closest author friends I still have today—men and women whose advice, humor, and steady presence have carried me through the inevitable ups and downs.

What I learned quickly is that writers are among the most generous people I know. So many have helped me along the way—offering advice, endorsements, a referral to an agent, or simply a shoulder when things go sideways. They taught me, by example, that giving back is more than personally fulfilling. It is what makes the unpredictable nature of this business tolerable.

For Mystery Writers of America I have often served as a mentor through their mentorship program. That means offering guidance on finding an agent, writing a query or pitch, or sorting through rejections and critiques. I have also judged the Edgar Awards more times than I can count. The work is time-consuming, yet it is deeply satisfying to read mysteries I might never have picked up otherwise, all in the effort to identify the strongest first novel, paperback original, or short story of the year.

International Thriller Writers has been a foundation of my career since that first conference in Arizona. There, James Rollins asked me to judge the Thriller Awards. Me? How could I possibly be qualified to judge the best books in the genre? He talked me into it—who can say no to Jim?

Since then I have judged at least ten years, including one year as awards chair. I have volunteered at ThrillerFest in every capacity imaginable: manning the registration table, helping with PitchFest (both excellent ways to meet people), speaking on panels, and presenting workshops at CraftFest. I have offered critiques, taught the Master Class for several years, and made myself available—usually by hanging out at the bar—for anyone who simply wants to chat. Every year I learn something new. Every year I meet remarkable people.

I have sat with #1 New York Times bestsellers and with aspiring writers working on their first manuscripts. Most of the authors I encounter are genuinely humble. I think that humility comes from a shared understanding: no matter how many books we have published, it is always the next book that defines our career. That knowledge keeps ego in check.

Publishing is a business. Writers sometimes forget that because, well, we write. We create stories we hope readers will enjoy and talk about. In the process we can lose sight of the business side—marketing, publicity, promotion, contracts, subsidiary rights, sales—all the elements that can make or break a career.

Most writers are not natural promoters. Some are, of course, but many of us would rather talk about books we have loved than about the stories we have written. The pressure of the business can be intense. Making human connections through organizations like MWA and ITW helps us keep our perspective and our sanity.

That is why I continue to give back to the organizations and the writers who helped me over the years. The community is generous, and I am blessed to be part of it. If I can offer a little of my time and whatever hard-won experience I have accumulated, I am more than happy to do so. The blank page will always be waiting, but knowing other writers are out there makes the solitary work feel a little less lonely.

***