After a very, very long year, the Edgar Awards are once again upon us. 2021 marks the 75th year that Mystery Writers of America will celebrate the best crime and mystery writing, and while 2020 was an abysmal year by any other metric, it was a stellar year for great new books. In what’s become a tradition here at CrimeReads, our editors partnered with MWA to organize a giant roundtable discussion between the Edgar nominees, and we received responses from over 30 authors, each with their own fascinating take on our beloved genre. The Edgar Awards Ceremony begins at 1 PM EST on Thursday, the 29th, via Zoom. You can read the first part of this discussion, focused on craft and contemporary issues in crime writing, here.
Click here for the full list of Edgar Award nominations.
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One year later, the pandemic is still changing all of our lives. How has it changed your writing?
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Elsa Hart (nominated for the Mary Higgins Clark Award – The Cabinets of Barnaby Mayne): Fundamentally. Do you know how fantasy novels usually start with a map of the world? If I could represent my writing self as one of these, it would show me wandering around in a completely different zone than I was a year ago. It’s all still me. I’m just exploring different corners of my imagination.
Nev March (nominated for Best First Novel – Murder in Old Bombay): It was so difficult to concentrate! Living in the midst of a real crisis makes any fictional world recede. It felt like living through a war, changed how we shopped, went out, and interacted with people. For two months I stopped writing to sew 460 cloth face masks for home healthcare workers, friends and neighbors. My first bit of writing after that was a comedic article about making masks on an unwilling sewing machine! It normalized the new, bizarre reality and re-energized my writing.
June Hur (nominated for Best Young Adult – The Silence of Bones): As a mom of a toddler, my writing schedule hasn’t changed too much. I write when my daughter naps and when she’s asleep. I suppose, the only difference is, I’m a bit more exhausted at the end of the day since I’m stuck at home with my daughter all day, trying to figure out how to keep her entertained (rather than going out on playdates, etc). So it takes me a bit longer to get into the writing zone.
Ivy Pochoda (nominated for Best Novel – These Women): Well it’s certainly made me more efficient and less of a baby about the whole thing. I used to have a large chunk of the day to myself. But now I’m pretty immersed in brushing up on my kindergarten skills—phonics, addition, social and emotional learning. Which leaves me roughly two and a half hours to write in the late afternoon and that has never been a great time for me to get “creative.” But you know what—I’m doing it. I’m writing in those hours—if I can—and I’m being super easy on myself. A great day is 500 words. (Don’t laugh, you book a year people!) And 500 words is enough for now. I’m not putting too much pressure on myself to be super prolific. Just a few words feels major.
Heather Young (nominated for Best Novel – The Distant Dead): Having my husband and son working and studying from home did disrupt my writing process, but the pandemic hasn’t changed my writing. My work in progress is set in 1943, so I don’t have to worry about COViD-19 in my narrative. In fact, it’s been oddly comforting to spend my writing time in an era when the world confronted threats far more existential than the coronavirus.
Mariah Fredericks (nominated for the Mary Higgins Clark Award – Death of an American Beauty): I don’t know if it’s changed my writing. It has made me very grateful that I have a job that allows me to escape into other people’s heads and a different time altogether. And that I have my own workspace, where I can physically escape. Much as I love my family.
Taryn Souders (nominated for Best Juvenile – Coop Knows The Scoop): In the past, I found myself being very distracted at home with laundry, or kids, or pets, or anything really. I would often go to a coffee shop to write. With the pandemic though, those options were no longer available. It forced me to write at home. My preference is definitely the coffee shops! I haven’t been nearly as productive as I would like but I’m getting there!
Christina Lane (nominated for Best Critical/Biographical – Phantom Lady: Hollywood Producer Joan Harrison, the Forgotten Woman Behind Hitchcock): Well, I don’t write in the public library anymore, which has slowed my roll. The pandemic has opened up more free time and provided time to explore. I began experimenting at turning my latest book into a mystery-based video game, teaching myself the basics of game-writing. This is something I’ve always wanted to do, if only to experiment with directions of storytelling.
Jeffrey Deaver: It has made me more productive. Without travel for my book events and much less socializing, there was little for me to do except write (aside from binging on Veep, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and much British TV!). I’ve written two novels (The Final Twist and The Midnight Lock), four print short stories and three audio stories (occult, a departure for me).
David Heska Wanbli Weiden (nominated for Best First Novel – Winter Counts): I write in bursts now. I’ve got my five-a.m. shift, before everyone wakes up, then my mid-morning time, and then an evening stint, if I’m not too exhausted. I really, really miss coffee shops, where I used to do most of my writing. Not only the massive infusion of caffeine, but the buzz and hum of customers and the chance to eavesdrop on random conversations. Having said that, I’ve rediscovered the pleasure of writing short stories again, after grappling with a novel for several years. Not sure if the enforced isolation of the pandemic had anything to do with this, but it’s been an interesting change.
Stephanie Wrobel (nominated for Best First Novel – Darling Rose Gold): It has made the process harder, if I’m being honest. From a tactical perspective, it’s easier in that all of the distractions have been removed. But from a mental perspective, I’m acutely aware of spending every day, all day, at my computer. Until the pandemic, I didn’t realize how much I rely on being out in the world to counterbalance the extreme seclusion required to write novels.
Laurie R. King (nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award – Riviera Gold): Writing in 2020 was like hunching over your laptop in a hurricane, though I’m not sure we can blame the virus for all of it. So yes, a bit distracting, and I had to push the deadline for my 2021 book to the very edge of my publisher’s patience. Plus, like everyone, I hate not doing events and not going to conferences—as writers, our colleagues rarely live nearby, and Zoom just doesn’t do it for hanging out. It’s even changed what I’m writing, since I can’t do research for the book I’d intended to work on next, because it’s set in Paris. So I’ve had to change around to a story more contemporary and closer to home. But I guarantee you, it’ll take place either before 2020, or well after.
Ilaria Tuti (nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award – The Sleeping Nymph): Of all the negative things about the pandemic (many and terrible), I must say that at least it gave me a chance to take back my time. I used to travel a lot to promote my novels.
Now writing is once again an intimate and solitary moment of my everyday life, allowing me to take a more thoughtful approach to the topics I deal with in my stories.
Kathleen Kent (nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award – The Burn): The past year has posed a lot of challenges, but, other than missing visiting with family and friends in person, my life has been remarkably the same. I work from my home office and was able to complete one book (The Pledge, the third in the Det. Betty Rhyzyk series) and start another standalone novel. I know that some authors are enlivened by working where there are people—coffee shops, book stores, etc.—but I always write best in solitude.
Caitlin Mullen (nominated for Best First Novel – Please See Us): I think this pandemic had made me realize how much contact with the outside world—people watching, eavesdropping, going to museums, talking long walks—feeds my work, and without those stimuli, it has felt hard to fill the well, so to speak. It is probably no coincidence that, after a year at home with no childcare, my current novel in progress has a very claustrophobic feeling to it.
In terms of actually getting words on the page, I would say I’ve gotten better—not great!—at handling interruption. On any given morning working at home I will hear my daughter shout and laugh through the floorboards, my teenaged neighbor play his French horn, the construction workers across the street unload their trucks and begin hammering and sawing. Thinking of all of these daily sounds as something that will be in the work, rather than getting in its way, has been helpful to me. I’ve learned to be a lot less precious about the circumstances around my writing.
Hank Phillipi Ryan (nominated for the Mary Higgins Clark Award – The First To Lie): On day one of the pandemic, I was in the Palm Beach airport on the way back to Boston from big Book tour event. The event—so many people—should have been electrifying, but instead it was terrifying. And when I got home, I looked at the manuscript I had been working on so happily for two months, and I could not write one more word. Not one more word.
I started wondering—why am I doing this? I’m writing commercial fiction—for entertainment! What good is that? Who cares? And it took me about a week or two to realize that this is exactly what we needed, more than ever. I had chosen to be an author, with agency and passion, and that decision, I finally came to realize, was just as powerfully correct as it had been in the first place. I clawed my way through the rest of the manuscript, I have to admit, and I can still point to the place in my now-book where the pandemic hit. Crossing fingers readers will not notice—because the passion soon returned. But I still know where it happened.
Erin E. MacDonald (nominated for Best Critical/Biographical – Ian Rankin: A Companion to the Mystery Fiction): I don’t know if it has changed the content or style of my writing, but it has certainly kept me in front of the computer for longer than I would be if I was able to go out and do things. Writing during the pandemic has taught me two seemingly contradictory lessons: 1. Write only when inspired, when it’s fun to do so—don’t force it and 2. If you start writing (even without much emotional energy for it), the ideas will eventually flow.
Sierra Crane Murdoch (nominated for Best Fact Crime – Yellow Bird): Honestly, the pandemic hasn’t changed my writing much. I published Yellow Bird right before the pandemic began and thankfully got in three book tour events before everything shut down. I’d imagined that I would spend a lot of the year on the road, promoting my book, but instead, I went back into hibernation, and into writing again. One thing that has changed for me is that I’ve been writing more without assignments, working on new projects whenever I feel inspired by them. This won’t sound so unusual to fiction and creative nonfiction writers, but as a journalist who has become accustomed to hopping from assignment to assignment—mostly out of necessity, since journalism is my full-time job—I think the slowing down of the world around me has made me feel more comfortable retreating into my own creative process. It’s been fun to play around with my style, with a sort of writing I’m hoping to do more of in the future. I think the quietness, the space—yes, the isolation—have been the permission I needed to experiment and have more patience with my work.
Lori Rader-Day (nominated for the Mary Higgins Clark Award – The Lucky One): I don’t think it’s changed my writing style or anything, and I’ve always looked for the ending that gives my characters something they were looking for, whether they knew it or not. What changed in my process was the time I gave to revision. I had months of travel for The Lucky One cancelled, so I dug into the draft of Death at Greenway, took it down to the studs, and rebuilt it completely. I wouldn’t have been able to do that otherwise, and I’m so glad I had that opportunity.
Brian Freeman (nominated for Best Paperback Original – The Deep, Deep Snow): Obviously, we’ve all had a lot more time at home because of the pandemic. You’d think that would make it easier to write, but the past year has also played havoc with the creative process. Writing means putting aside the real world and immersing yourself in your stories and characters—but when the real world is so oppressive, that’s much harder to do. There’s been a constant overlay of stress and worry throughout this year, and that’s a difficult environment in which to create.
Elizabeth Mannion (nominated for Best Critical/Biographical – Guilt Rules All: Irish Mystery, Detective, and Crime Fiction): The pandemic has forced me to be more disciplined when it comes to my writing. I returned to teaching after a few years off and got into the habit of keeping all schoolwork at school and all of my writing/editing at home. When the pandemic hit, I had to do everything from home, and that was an enormous adjustment. For the first few months, when we were in lockdown, I managed to continue editing (Brian Cliff and I were wrapping up Guilt Rules All: Irish Mystery, Detective, and Crime Fiction), but I was unable to write. I’m writing again though. The biggest change is that it feels more like work than it ever did before.
Richard Osman (nominated for Best Novel – The Thursday Murder Club): Before lockdown, I said that I wanted to have a break from TV for six months to give myself more time to write. It just shows you have to be careful what you wish for. My self-imposed lockdown was supposed to give me the time and space to write the second installment of The Thursday Murder Club series, but I didn’t expect that we’d still be in lockdown a year later—I’ve just started writing book three.
Jacqueline Winspear (nominated for Best Critical/Biographical – This Time Next Year We’ll All Be Laughing): The pandemic has not changed my life as much as it has changed the lives of so many people—and it hasn’t really changed my writing. Even before I became a writer, I was used to working from my home base, and to having to knuckle down to meet the demands of my job—it’s something I learned years ago as a young professional who was “field based” (as they used to say). I also learned the importance of nurturing community beyond the job and making sure I had time away from that desk, even it meant a quick walk around the block! It’s important to have a rhythm to the day and to start the day with an intention to achieve something specific—I’ve been able to continue in that vein throughout the lockdowns, and for that I am incredibly grateful.
Monica Hesse (nominated for Best Young Adult – They Went Left): I have two fulltime writing jobs: I’m a columnist with the Washington Post, and I write mystery novels. When the Washington Post closed its offices a year ago, I thought, well, the one silver lining will be that I’m saving 90 minutes on commute each day. I can do so much more writing! And that turned out to be an incredibly stupid thought. It turns out I really needed the 45 minutes of metro-riding and walking every evening, in order to shift my brain from one kind of writing to another. Now I make sure to physically shift rooms and switch laptops so that it’s very clear when I’m moving from one project to another.
So that’s how it’s impacted my writing process. In terms of what I’m actually writing: I spend the year working on a novel set on a remote island off the coast of Virginia, on the heels of the 1919 flu pandemic. The sense of isolation, imprisonment and fear I was feeling at home definitely helped me get in the headspace of my heroine. Which is to say, at times we both felt that we were losing our minds.
Ariel Sabar (Nominated for Best Fact Crime – Veritas): The biggest effect is that as a journalist, I haven’t been able to do the kind of shoe-leather reporting I enjoy. I feel lucky to have gotten writing assignments—an op-ed for The Wall Street Journal, a book review for The New York Times—that I can do from home. But I miss being on the road, meeting sources, and doing interviews in person.
Jess Lourey (nominated for Best Paperback Original – Unspeakable Things): I am very lucky (because I have food and shelter and my health, plus a job that I can do from home) to say that the pandemic has improved my writing because it’s given me more time for reading. There is no better writing teacher than a very good or a very bad book. But maybe I just think my writing has improved over the pandemic and when my next book comes out, I’ll realize I haven’t really accomplished a thing, like that scene in Parks and Rec when Ben Wyatt is laid off and makes a grand claymation video that turns out to only be three seconds long.
Jessica Moor (nominated for Best Paperback Original – The Keeper): I’ve been sending my characters to lots of nice bars and restaurants! I’d say at the moment it’s been more of a case of living vicariously through my characters to have some experience of all those things I miss about normal life – things as simple as grasping the hand of a stranger. But I think the pandemic is more likely to change my writing in the long run, when we all have to acknowledge that this vast and incomprehensible thing happened to all of us. I don’t want to see a rash of ‘pandemic novels’ necessarily, but I think the spectre of all that loss will haunt our writing for years to come.
On a practical note, the one gift that the pandemic gives writers is that it’s a perfect setting if we ever want to turn up the temperature on a group of characters—we can just set the book during 2020 and put them all in lockdown together!
Tanya Lloyd Kyi (nominated for Best Juvenile – Me and Banksy): I’ve had to learn to be patient with myself. I usually set fairly ambitious word count goals. But now that my kids only go to school school part-time, my husband works from home more often, and our pandemic puppy (!!) sits nibbling on my socks, I’m not winning any productivity awards. After spending a few months gnashing my teeth, I finally realized I had to slow down, play more board games, and trust the writing time will return.
Joseph S. Walker (nominated for Best Short Story – “Etta at the End of the World,” Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine): I’ve had a few periods over the last year when I was completely unable to write anything for a month or so, because the news was simply too distracting and/or depressing. On the whole, though, I got more writing done in 2020 than I had in any previous year, and 2021 is off to a productive start. I have yet to write a story that refers to the pandemic in any way, and I don’t think I’m likely to. Overall, then, the pandemic has changed my writing by giving me time to produce more of it. That’s not a trade I would have made if given the choice, but I hope I’ve established some good writing habits that will continue.
Leslie Elman (nominated for Best Short Story – “The Summer Uncle Cat Came to Stay,” Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine): Would it be awful to say it hasn’t changed my writing in any substantive way? Life, yes: I’ve lost people who I miss terribly. Writing, no: It’s been a constant.
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As a related question, what’s your advice as a writer for working from home? And is that advice different now then it would have been a year ago?
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Ivy Pochoda: Let it go! You can’t control everything. Life is going to get in the way even if you are sequestered at home. And get dressed to work. Loungewear is a slippery slope into giving up.
June Hur: My advice from a year ago would have been to find and stick to a routine, to be more disciplined with one’s time. But my advice now is: Don’t be so hard on yourself. Working from home is so hard, and if you have kids, even harder—it comes with so much guilt and questions of “Am I doing this right?” But I think, during this time, whatever works for you and your mental health is the “right method.”
Caitlin Mullen: This time last year, when I was slightly less beaten down by all of the isolation and grief of this time, I would have said to continue to honor your commitment to your work. But this year has made me want to be kinder to myself, and to examine received ideas about productivity that I’ve internalized over the years that are actually damaging to my writing life. I would say that writing a novel under any circumstances is hard, so be sure to give yourself as much grace as you need along the way. It’s okay to take breaks. To spend a week reading and analyzing books you love instead of always driving forward on your word count. You’ll be a better writer when you get back to the desk.
Jessica Moor: My advice is the same as it’s always been, and if I could only learn to take it then I’d be a lot more productive.
Get up early. It’s so boring, but I always get my best work done in the morning.
Lori Rader-Day: I would give someone better advice than I take for myself, as always. Get a dedicated space and a good chair. ERGONOMICS. A year ago I wouldn’t have known to tell you to take care of your musculature and protect your spine but now I can tell you: do that. Exercise! Stretching!
Monica Hesse: First, be gentle with yourself. I’m an absolute hardass with my writing: I have written six books by making myself do 1,000 words a night no matter how sick, tired, busy or braindead I was. This was the first year I didn’t always achieve that. It was a hard year, and many nights I gave myself a break and let myself be a human first.
Second, when you do decide to write, treat it like going to work, even if that just means moving from your living room couch to your kitchen counter. Even if we’re all staring at our own walls, sometimes staring at slightly different walls can be the reset that your brain needs in order to understand that it’s writing time.
Laurie R. King: Advice? Don’t have kids. Or a family, really. Or a dog. Cats are probably okay. I started writing when my kids were small, but even then, they were off at school at least part of the day. Carving out time to do your own creative work while the kids are home-schooling? My profound admiration for anyone who has managed that this past year—and my admiration too for any spouse or partner who took their part of the weight.
Nev March: Writing from home is a job, much like bring an entrepreneur, is a job. You are in charge, and your asset is your time—spend it wisely. To that advice I’d now add, remember to balance exercise, fun and rest to promote creativity and productivity. This was true before, but I see it more clearly now.
Jeffrey Deaver: My advice to a plumber or musician during the pandemic would be very different, of course. As for a writer, where you need to largely be in seclusion to create, there’s not much difference: Make sure you have undisturbed time to work and—I can’t take off my schoolmaster hat—be sure to plan your book or story ahead of time (outline!) and practice rabid rewriting and polishing.
Erin E. MacDonald: I’ve been at least partially working from home for a few years now, so in that sense it’s not that different except that I don’t get extended breaks when I can go far away for a day or weeks at a time. Before I had a proper home office, I used to write with a laptop at coffee shops (think J.K. Rowling but non-fiction), but I’m so happy to have my own space to write now. I feel privileged to be able to shut my door and be left more-or-less alone, because my children are old enough that they don’t need me for most of the day. I think it’s important to take breaks and to keep to a schedule, at least roughly. I eat meals with my family at the same times every day, and I try to get some exercise each morning. I can imagine it’s tempting for some people to stay in their pyjamas and forget to eat or sleep, but you do need those connections with other people and I think we really need to take mental and physical breaks from technology.
Leslie Elman: The luxury of working from home is that the way you complete the work doesn’t matter as long as it’s done professionally and on time. If you spend the day occupied with other things and only sit down to write after dinner, that’s fine as long as you meet your deadlines. But you have to meet your deadlines. That hasn’t changed.
Elsa Hart: Allow yourself the activities peripheral to putting words on a page without automatically condemning them as procrastination. We haven’t had access to the places outside our homes that inspire us. It’s okay to take time to be open to inspiration within your own space. If you’re not feeling it at your computer or your notebook go ahead and stare at walls. Watch the way the light moves. Blow soap bubbles. You will find characters and plot points waiting for you in unexpected locations.
Elizabeth Mannion: My advice is to write early, before any content hits your eyes or ears. That is the same advice I would have offered a year ago. It’s one reason I struggled to write during the first months of the pandemic: I had the news on all the time, and so no break from the content assault.
Sierra Crane Murdoch: I’ve worked from home almost my entire career, so I suppose I was prepared for the pandemic. On writing days, a routine helps: I like to wake up at the same time, relatively early. I go to my computer, turn on the app Freedom. Then I cook breakfast and try to read while I eat instead of looking at my phone—usually a magazine story, sometimes poetry. Then I stash my phone in the kitchen and go to my desk and try not to look at my email for at least six hours. Can you tell I’m averse to the Internet? But seriously, this is the best advice I have for anyone working from home: Avoid the Internet as much as possible. It’s not that I don’t procrastinate; I’ll often catch myself staring into space, daydreaming. But if I allow my mind to simply drift when I need a break instead of going down Internet rabbit hole after rabbit hole, I find I preserve my writing stamina, and I don’t feel so exhausted at the end of the day. And of course I get a lot more done.
Jacqueline Winspear: My advice is pretty much the same—you sit down at your desk and you write. Don’t wait for some mythical muse to come along and whisper in your ear, because those muses can be bone idle at times and don’t bother turning up, so you have to start without them. Sometimes you have to write your way into that point of inspiration. More than anything, know that you will have good, productive days and you will have days when all you can see is the mountain before you—but if you want to hold a finished book in your hand, you have to keep going, one step at a time up and over that mountain. Being a writer means working to an end point, to finishing a creative project.
Richard Osman: It turns out writing a novel is really, really hard. It’s a good idea to set regular achievable goals, perhaps 1000 words at a time, and slowly work towards the 20,000-word mark, at which point the pain of throwing it away would be greater than the pain of continuing.
Jess Lourey: Interestingly, my writing has become more social during the pandemic because I’ve created online connections with fellow writers, and we do co-writing sprints to keep each other honest. I recommend the same: come up with a small group of writers—even one other writer—and “meet” online for a couple hours a day, holding each other to task until you both meet your daily word count. We let ourselves down all the time; it’s much harder to let someone else down.
Tanya Lloyd Kyi: The best advice I ever received was to put my own writing time first — before answering emails in the morning, before checking social media, and before answering the phone. “Working from home” seems as if it will involve hours of freedom and infinite space for creativity. But then my aunt calls, I put in a few loads of laundry, I volunteer for something at the kids’ school, and time disappears. I’m a happier, more productive person when I set aside those first few hours for my own projects.
Joseph S. Walker: I’ve been working from home for almost twenty years, so my advice probably hasn’t changed much. I think the most important thing is to have specific time that is scheduled for and dedicated to writing. It’s important not just to be committed to the writing yourself, but to have everyone else in the house understand it’s a serious task to be respected. Also, when you spend all day working on the computer, spending more time in the same chair to write fiction can seem exhausting. If possible do some of your creative work elsewhere, just to give yourself a fresh perspective and more energy.
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Crime fiction gets a lot of us through hard times. What are some of the titles that have helped you in making it through a tough year?
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June Hur: Tana French’s The Likeness.
Taryn Souders: I’ve enjoyed:
Evangeline of the Bayou by Jan Eldredge
The Seer of Shadows by Avi
Hope in the Holler by Lisa Lewis Tyre
Lupe Wong Won’t Dance by Donna Barba Higuera
Wink! By Rob Harrell
Martin Edwards: Ann Cleeves – The Darkest Evening
Arturo Perez Reverte – The Flanders Panel
Charles Palliser – Betrayals
Margot Bennett – The Widow of Bath
Christianna Brand – Death of Jezebel
John Dickson Carr – Till Death Do Us Part
Brian Cliff: Jane Casey, The Cutting Place
John Connolly, The Dirty South
Mick Herron, Slough House
Lisa Lutz, The Swallows
James W. Ziskin: In no particular order whatsoever: A Solitude of Wolverines by Alice Henderson; Death in D Minor by Alexia Gordon; Pieces of Eight by Steve Goble; Die around Sundown by Mark Pryor; Staged for Murder by Erica Miner; Murder in Old Bombay by Nev March; Murder at the Brand-New Jubilee Rally by Terry Shames; Blacktop Wasteland by S. A. Cosby; Deadly Solution by Keenan Powell; The Lucky One by Lori Rader-Day; In Cold Pursuit by Daco Auffenorde; The Prisoner in the Castle by Susan Elia MacNeal; The Out-of-Town Lawyer by Robert Rotstein; Suicide Blonde by Brian Thornton; The Enemy We Don’t Know by Mary Sutton; The Complete Stories of Sherlock Holmes.
Nev March: Thoroughly enjoyed Sue Cox’s Man on the Washing Machine, Joanna Schaffhausen’s All the Best Lies, and Abir Mukherjee’s A Rising Man.
Ariel Sabar: I loved Patrick Radden Keefe’s Say Nothing and David Grann’s Killers of the Flower Moon, true-crime tales which beautifully marry deep reporting with deft writing.
Stephanie Wrobel: Some of my favorite suspense reads of the past year include: Security by Gina Wohlsdorf, I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid, Ill Will by Dan Chaon, The Bird Tribunal by Agnes Ravatn, and the Dublin Murder Squad series by Tana French, especially The Likeness.
Hank Phillippi Ryan: Oh, I have loved Elly Griffiths’ The Stranger Diaries, and everything by Andrew Wilson, and Claire Mackintosh. Lisa Jewell. Lisa Scottoline. Chris Whitaker’s We Begin at the End. Lots of ARCs reassured me publishing life was continuing. At the beginning of the pandemic, I reread some Agatha Christies, and I reread the Winds of War. Don’t ask me why—maybe it’s about how humans survive a massive crisis? And I reread my favorite Edith Wharton’s Custom of the Country. Again, who knows why.
Leslie Elman: My pandemic year started with nonstop Alexander McCall Smith because at the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency even the crime is gentle. After that, I glommed all the Blanche White books by Barbara Neely (MWA’s 2020 Grand Master). Then I went to old favorites Agatha Christie and Andrea Camilleri. The grittiest thing I read was The Accident by Chris Pavone. (Fans of gritty novels will tell you it isn’t really gritty at all and I’m a wimp.) Shout out to indie booksellers—especially Oblong Books and Watermark Books—for filling my many online orders over the past year.
Khurrum Rahman (nominated for Best Paperback Original – East of Hounslow): I’ve found it hard to focus on reading, even writing over this strange period that we’re going through. The only books that truly captured my attention were My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell and the other is the Gone series by the brilliant Michael Grant. Mainly I’ve been watching a lot of drama and movies on Netflix like everyone else.
Ivy Pochoda: In terms of crime fiction this year I loved: The Books of Lamps and Banners and the entire Cass Neary series by Elizabeth Hand. And Tod Goldberg’s sensational collection The Low Desert.
David Heska Wanbli Weiden: I think everyone in the crime fiction world loved my buddy Shawn Cosby’s book, Blacktop Wasteland, which is fantastic. Other books that I enjoyed were Bad Habits by Amy Gentry, The Ninja’s Blade by Tori Eldridge, Hollywood Homicide by Kellye Garrett, and the yet-to-be-released Angels in the Wind by Manuel Ramos and Lightning Strike by William Kent Krueger. Pickard County Atlas by Chris Harding Thornton is wonderful, and Nikki Dolson’s Love and Other Criminal Behavior is a great collection. Finally, I just finished Cimarron Rose by James Lee Burke and was blown away by that amazing novel. So grateful for each of these books.
Jess Lourey: Elizabeth Little’s Pretty as a Picture and Jennifer Hillier’s Little Secrets were the first books I read after the pandemic that totally engaged me, and I’ll be forever grateful for the escape they offered. And hoo boy, does Alyssa Cole’s When No One Is Watching deliver. Same with Rachel Howzell Hall’s These Toxic Things, which I was lucky enough to read an early copy of—it’s the book everyone will be talking about this fall, I guarantee it. I just finished Erica Ruth Neubauer’s Murder at Wedgefield Manor, and there’s nothing like a cozy with a delicious dose of romance to soothe over the day’s rough edges.
Richard Osman: I love crime fiction, everything from the classics like Patricia Highsmith and Agatha Christie, through to Harlan Coben, Shari Lapena and Jeffrey Deaver. I think people are drawn to crime fiction more than ever because crime novels are books of moral certainty, where there are consequences and conclusions.
Elizabeth Mannion: For fiction, I went back in time to try and scrub 2020 from my brain. I re-read all of Sherlock Holmes last summer and then a few non-fiction titles to get me through the fall. Two favorites were Val McDermid’s Forensics: The Anatomy of Crime and Clare Clarke’s British Detective Fiction 1893-1900: Successors to Sherlock Holmes. The only new fiction I read was the latest from Jane Casey, Arlene Hunt, and Liz Nugent: three of my favorites.
Laurie R. King: I haven’t been able to read anything gritty or violent for a while now. I look for humor, humanity, silliness to go with the intricacies of a crime story. Things like Ben Aaronovitch’s police procedurals with magic, or John Scalzi’s FBI agent who interacts with world from a robot. I was happy to chuckle my way through Richard Osman’s book. And I’ve done a lot of re-reading. Sarah Caudwell’s snark-filled trilogy makes me so happy.
Lori Rader-Day: I didn’t turn to crime fiction at first. I re-read childhood favorites (Charlotte’s Web, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, James and the Giant Peach). Then I re-read some comforting adult favorites (The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro) and humor (Samantha Irby essays, Allie Brosh comics). Then I finally turned to comforting favorite crime authors (Agatha Christie, Quiet Neighbors and The Child Garden by Catriona McPherson, the latest Kristen Lepionka) and read a book by a promising fella named Lou Berney that I had never read (The Long and Faraway Gone). But I also tried to read a little more widely, trying new-to-me books like Alexia Gordon’s Murder in G Major, We Ride Upon Sticks by Quan Barry, Sourdough by Robin Sloan. Not always crime. Reading widely led me to new favorites—that’s always a joyful experience.
Joseph S. Walker: S. A. Cosby’s Blacktop Wasteland was my favorite crime novel of the year. For the most part, though, I read short stories. In addition to magazines like Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine and Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, I read a lot of anthologies. I’d like to give some recognition here to the indie publishers who put out great anthologies every year, such as Down & Out Books, Untreed Reads, Superior Shores Press, Gutter Books, First City Books, and so many others. These are publishers and editors who are helping to keep short mystery and crime fiction alive and thriving, and I hope more readers will look at the terrific work they’re doing.
Caroline B. Cooney: One of the many pleasures of being in my seventies is that thirty, forty, even fifty years may have passed since I read some great mystery author. All I remember now is that I loved them. My pandemic reading, therefore, was re-reading. Going in order from the earliest title, I joyfully reread Dick Francis, Tony Hillerman, Jane Langton, John Maddox Roberts (SPQR series) and Jo Dereske (Miss Zukas series.) Of course I didn’t want to fall behind on new titles and in isolation there was time to read lots of those, too. The Thursday Murder Club (Osman) and The Finisher (Lovesey) were wonderful.
Erin E. MacDonald: In no particular order, I’ve read Ann Cleeves’s The Darkest Evening and The Long Call, Peter May’s Lockdown, Ian Rankin’s A Song for the Dark Times, John Lawton’s Friends and Traitors, Philip Kerr’s Prussian Blue, Diana Gabaldon’s Lord John series, Jo Nesbo’s Cockroaches, Henning Mankell’s The Pyramid, Louise Penny’s The Cruelest Month, and I’ve reread several Agatha Christies. For a while, I could only read cozies, because everything else was just too stressful. M.C. Beaton is like a warm blanket.
Christina Lane: I confess that I’ve been finding comfort in returning to the classics, such as Agatha Christie’s The Mysterious Affair at Styles or The Secret Adversary. This has offered a way to connect to my subject during Phantom Lady’s release because these books were literary influences for Joan Harrison. At the same time, I’ve escaped through classic television, such as The Fugitive and Columbo. The slow burn of these series, such as the careful detective work in Columbo, has been soothing.
Jessica Moor: My favorite crime book that I’ve read recently is Before You Knew My Name by Jacqueline Bublitz. It’s out this summer, and it’s a sort of whodunnit but executed in a totally original fashion, with a really powerful feminist sensibility.
Tanya Kyi: My favorite recent read was the young adult novel I Hope You’re Listening by Tom Ryan. It’s the story of 17-year-old Dee Skinner, whose best friend was abducted years ago. Now, Dee secretly runs a podcast and website to crowdsource information about other disappearances. But another local abduction puts Dee and her secret identity in danger. It was such a cool premise, and a riveting read.
Kathleen Kent: Crime fiction covers a lot of territory and I love hardboiled police procedurals as well as international spy thrillers. Some of the books I’ve really enjoyed reading this past year are: These Women by Ivy Pochoda; The Company by Robert Litman; The Searcher by Tana French; Blacktop Wasteland by S.A. Cosby; The Less Dead by Denise Mina; The Guards by Ken Bruen.
Elsa Hart: I think Piranesi by Susanna Clarke counts as crime fiction. That book was huge for me. I also found an excellent new-to-me classic mystery, Miss Pym Disposes by Josephine Tey. And in the true crime category, Furious Hours: Murder, Fraud, and the Last Trial of Harper Lee by Casey Cep drew me in and stayed with me after I finished reading.
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What do you read when you’re not reading crime?
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Laurie R. King: Wait, there are stories without crime in them? I mean, sure, biographies of people I’m putting in a story, but even those have a good sprinkling of crime and corruption. Though I do read science fiction a fair amount.
Ivy Pochoda: I read a whole heap of stuff from the personals in the New York Review of Books to snarky fashion blogs to the comments section in the New York Times Cooking section and Serious Eats. But what’s really helped me this year are books with a lot of voice and voices that call out from the pages and make me remember what it was like to be in public. I reread Zadie Smith’s NW early on in lockdown, followed closely by James McBride’s Deacon King Kong. Both of these books are teaming with the chorus of street life and neighborhood life—the things I miss the most.
Taryn Souders: I mostly read middle grade books—they simply are the best because they can easily be enjoyed by both kids and adults (there’s some great humor tucked into MG that adults would LOVE).
Erin E. MacDonald: I did get a bit into historical fiction, finishing the last book of the Outlander series and reading one of my mother’s classic favourites, The Thorn Birds. I bought Wolf Hall but haven’t tackled it yet. I also sometimes read non-fiction books about Scottish history and/or genealogy.
David Heska Wanbli Weiden: Not surprisingly, I keep up with the new wave of Native American literature that’s occurring right now, both debut authors and classics that I might have missed. Some really exciting new indigenous fiction is being written by Brandon Hobson, Kelli Jo Ford, Tommy Orange, Stephen Graham Jones, Annette Saunooke Clapsaddle, Morgan Talty, and Shane Hawk, among others. I also had the pleasure of discovering a book, The Indians Won, written by the legendary Martin Cruz Smith (who published it as Martin Smith) but long out of print. It’s an alternative history that imagines a world where the great leader Crazy Horse had not been killed, but instead unified the indigenous people of North America and defeated the American government, creating a new pan-Native nation. The book has two timelines, with the second one envisioning a modern nation of Native people, governed by indigenous principles. I’ve written about this lost classic elsewhere, and I’m happy to report that there’s been some interest by a publisher in reissuing the novel.
June Hur: I absolutely adore contemporary and speculative fiction, historical fiction, and YA books.
Ariel Sabar: Maybe it’s the isolation of the last year, but I find myself reading more poetry, particularly for its view into interior lives. Emily Dickinson is a favorite.
Nev March: I read a lot of history and non-fiction for research, and I do love classics! I read a lot of great mysteries, classic writers like Hammett, Chandler and Christie as well as contemporary writers. I love finding rare gems like Josephine Tey!
Tanya Kyi: Everything I can get my hands on. I grew up in a small town. Every once in a while, my dad would bring home a cardboard box of books from the local auction and I’d read everything inside—westerns, mysteries, romances, freaky books about spontaneous combustion. I’ve never lost the habit of reading everything that comes my way.
Khurrum Rahman: I really enjoy reading Young Adult Fiction. It feels like more of an escape and takes me back to my youth. My ten year old son is going through a phase of reading old classics such as Treasure Island and The Secret Garden which I often read with him. It very much like an education for me as much as it is for him.
Elsa Hart: I’ve been alternating between fantasy fiction and nature writing lately. I was immersed in The Broken Earth trilogy by N.K. Jemisin for a good part of the year. As for nature writing, I really enjoyed Underland by Robert Macfarlane. The two books go together kind of well if you’re in the mood for worlds of shifting rock and deep magic.
Jess Lourey: I’ve been reading a pile of nonfiction for research (mostly true crime, so still crime-related), plus some Kristin Hannah, some Annika Martin romance, and a dash of Robin Hobb fantasy.
Lori Rader-Day: I read a lot of nonfiction, true crime and crime fact, essays, narrative nonfiction, some memoirs. The past two years I have read, oh, just about every book having to do with Agatha Christie and her holiday home, Greenway, as well as a great deal of World War II nonfiction. I’m currently reading the biography of Louise Fitzhugh, the author of Harriet the Spy. It’s called Sometimes You Have to Lie, by Leslie Brody. I have approximately two million unread books in my house, though, so it could be something entirely different next.
Elizabeth Mannion: Mostly non-fiction and usually connected to theater. I’m currently reading Mike Nichols: A Life (Mark Harris) and recently finished This is Not My Memoir (André Gregory). I highly recommend both books to theater lovers: they’re terrific.
Martin Edwards: History, biography, supernatural and horror fiction.
Leslie Elman: International fiction, classics, and historical fiction. Also, last year I read Sarah Vowell’s Assassination Vacation, two of Gerald Durrell’s Corfu memoirs (inspiration for the TV series, The Durrells in Corfu), and mystery adjacent: Silvia Moreno Garcia’s Mexican Gothic, which is an original take on the genre, cleverly executed, and really creepy.
Jacqueline Winspear: I would say that only about a quarter of my reading time finds me immersed in crime, whether fiction or non-fiction (and personally, I prefer the word “mystery” because not every mystery requires a crime). I read a lot of non-fiction, particularly memoir and biography, and that is often background research for my fiction writing. Like many writers, I enjoy returning to the classics, and mix up my reading with my favorite mystery writers and anything else that piques my interest. I read book reviews from both sides of the Atlantic and am always extending my TBR list. I treat reading like my writing—I’m a believer in cross-training! I don’t only write fiction, but I make the time to write articles and essays and even poetry (which I am really bad at, but noodling around with poetry gives a sense of rhythm, and all writing needs rhythm). Last year I published my Edgar-nominated memoir, “This Time Next Year We’ll Be Laughing.” In the memoir I recount how I came to be a writer. Writing that memoir really stretched me, which I think has helped my work as a writer of mystery fiction. I want to get better at what I do, to stretch myself, if you will, so for me it’s important to keep those muscles working—“cross training” in the same way that an athlete in one discipline will train in other sports to develop a greater level of fitness.
Brian Cliff: I’ve been catching up on contemporary Irish fiction, which I’d fallen behind on while finishing the process of co-editing Guilt Rules All: Irish Mystery, Detective, and Crime Fiction with Beth Mannion. So, almost four years late, I’m finally getting to Sally Rooney’s novels, with books by Naoise Dolan and Niamh Campbell next on the list, along with some recent nonfiction by Mark O’Connell. In recent years, as I’ve been DJing more (on KALX, the University of California Berkeley station), I’ve also spent more time with musician biographies (Laura Jane Grace’s memoir stands out) and music books: Can’t Slow Down: How 1984 Became Pop’s Blockbuster Year by Michaelangelo Matos was a recent delight, and next on the list are Linda Dahl’s Stormy Weather: The Music and Lives of a Century of Jazz Women, David A. Carson’s Grit, Noise, and Revolution: The Birth of Detroit Rock ‘n’ Roll, and Vivien Goldman’s Revenge of the She-Punks: A Feminist Music History from Poly Styrene to Pussy Riot.
Brian Freeman: I don’t actually read much crime fiction anymore. I feel the loss of it, but when you write suspense all day, it’s tough to curl up with someone else’s suspense book at night. It starts to feel like market research rather than entertainment! So I tend to read a lot of nonfiction, as well as sampling various fiction authors to get a taste of their style. It makes for an eclectic reading list! Lately I’ve read Dracula, The Invisible Life of Addie Larue, A Man Called Ove, and The Spy Who Came in From the Cold. The only common denominator is great storytelling.
Kathleen Kent: I read a lot of nonfiction, mainly as research for whatever I’m working on at the moment. For example, I’m currently working on an international spy thriller so I’m reading such books as Rise and Kill First, the history of the Mossad (Bergman) and The Burning Edge, Travels Through Irradiated Belarus (Chichester).
Jessica Moor: I’m going through a phase of working my way through Penguin’s list of 100 greatest novels of all time. Right now I’m on Catch 22, which I’d tried several times and thought I didn’t like. I was completely wrong. It’s glorious.
Joseph S. Walker: A mix of things, mainly history and mainstream fiction. I found some comfort over the last year in turning to classics that I either hadn’t read since college or had never read at all—The Pickwick Papers, The Iliad. It was nice to spend weeks at a time immersed in those worlds from long before COVID.
Sierra Crane Murdoch: I feel incredibly honored to be among the Edgar finalists, because—I’m not sure I should admit this here—but I don’t actually read very much crime! I’m a journalist and essayist, so I read a lot of creative nonfiction. I love Eula Biss, Barry Lopez, Claudia Rankine. So many others. Writers working on the edge of prose and poetry, but with a subtle or not-so-subtle political purpose to their writing. When I need a release and to not constantly think about structure or language, I read novels. Recently, I finished the Elena Ferrante series, which was the perfect escape.
Monica Hesse: I’m almost always reading something that doubles as research for a book or a column. Right now my nightstand has books on the 19th Amendment, the Spanish Flu, the oystering industry of the Chesapeake Bay, and methods of poison used in the early twentieth century. And it’s all fascinating.
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What does isolation mean in today’s mysteries and thrillers? Is the ability to call for help the same as the ability to receive that help?
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Kathleen Kent: That’s a very interesting question, and it will be fascinating to see how writers are going to tackle this most recent challenge, both in a physical sense and in a moral one. Of course, “Plagues”, and the fear of the resulting mortality, have always been with us, and have given us some of our most terrifying and arresting themes. Zombies, Deadly Aliens, and Contagions are fertile ground for humans to respond and adapt against all odds. It’s in our adaptability that we survive, but what (community, trust, self-sacrifice) is jettisoned along the way. . .?
Jessica Moor: One of the things that I find most disturbing about the pandemic is that the things that are instinctively our sources of joy and comfort—connections with other people, touch, spontaneity—these have all been morphed into threats. Isolation now lies in the fear of other people and the threat that they might—inadvertently, invisibly—pose to us. Our own fear—our entirely justified fear of the virus—is the thing that prevents us from seeking and receiving the connection we crave. And, of course, there’s the loss of people’s faces as masks become widespread. All that anonymity, all those smiles we can’t see.
Jacqueline Winspear: As a writer of chiefly historical fiction, twenty-first century technology isn’t really an issue for me, however, the presence of so many means of communication does not mean there are not people who are isolated or who feel set apart from others. I think this offers a very rich seam to mine for writers of fiction, as we explore the notion of isolation, of aloneness, of being separate and the experience of solitude, and how those feelings impact the psyche, and perhaps ultimately the nature of a crime, or the mystery. The isolation of those investigating a crime is another area filled with possibility—and it’s played out in so many mysteries beloved by readers.
Lori Rader-Day: The ability to call for help is not the same as being able to receive help. I think we have learned that many people might call for help but can’t trust the help that might or might not arrive.
Isolation means from the people who restore and protect the character. The author’s game is to get the protagonist stripped of all they take comfort in. Take away their supports, their lovers. Take away their mentors. Kill Dumbledore, man. Shove them naked and alone into the problem. Not literally naked. Not in my books, anyway.
Cell phones are a huge problem, story-wise. We are not isolated *enough* as a species, and it shows up writing thrillers. I used to have a shoddy network for my phone, so I just gave all my characters that network, no reception when they needed bars to call someone.
The key in stories is that characters can become isolated not because the phone is smashed (helpful) or out of range but because they have isolated themselves through bad behavior. Or they could call but they’re too proud. Character flaws over technology flaws.
Laurie R. King: There’s a reason some of us write historicals: no cell phones, information has to be unearthed in libraries or conversations, people can get lost or feel threatened. But even in the days of cell phones and wifi, there are many kinds of isolation. Maybe your person is able to all for help—but can they expect to receive it? Will they be believed? Will they actually be supported by the help they call? Reaching out and being failed by a would-be rescuer can be creepier than being alone in the actual woods.
Joseph S. Walker: Even before the pandemic, a lot of the stories I wrote dealt with themes of isolation and alienation, because I believe this is a central problem in our time. We have more ways to be connected to each other than ever before, but there is a great deal of evidence that many of us feel alone—and again, that’s before the pandemic made being alone even more real. There are a lot of reasons for this, probably beginning with the tyranny of screens and social media in our lives, but it’s a serious problem with real consequences. A very large number of the people who become dedicated to conspiracy theories and extreme political positions share the characteristic of having very few, if any, close personal relationships in their lives. They’re reaching out for something, anything, that can feel, at least for a time, like a close-knit community offering meaning and identity.
As to how this relates specifically to crime fiction—well, people commit crimes out of desperation, and I think there’s a real desperation out there for genuine connection and community. It’s going to be interesting to see how that manifests itself in a world where normal social contact is slowly becoming the norm again. Maybe there will be a massive backlash against having your phone in your face all day long. I think that would be very healthy.
Stephanie Wrobel: I think physical isolation is still attainable via various plot devices. For example, my second book takes place on a private island in Maine, where a self-improvement group requires its students to forego all technology and communication with the outside world in order to focus on themselves. That said, I think emotional isolation is much scarier than the physical variety. There’s something terrifying about being surrounded by people yet unable to get the help you need.
Ivy Pochoda: Ha! It depends whose calling and from where. And if anyone is going to listen. Which is kind of the point of my book. Women call for help all the time—they report crimes against themselves—and too often no one cares or pays attention. Ability to call aside, what’s more important is the ability to be heard.
Elsa Hart: As a writer of historical mysteries I have the opposite problem: trying to imagine a world without phones or cars, let alone 5G. But I think it’s always possible to make isolation convincing. Isolation comes in many frightening guises. We might choose to isolate ourselves or be manipulated into doing so. Or we might be denied help because our call for it isn’t considered credible. That’s a terrifying prospect.
Erin E. MacDonald: My father is in his seventies and refuses to get a computer or a cell phone. He is definitely isolated! Most people are able to use Zoom or FaceTime or even just text or message someone to get a fast reply, and I think there’s something reassuring about that during times like these. It’s voluntary, though. You can turn off your phone, and characters can as well. Phone batteries can also die, and computers can be unplugged. I think there will always be ways to isolate characters, even with all the technology we have today. In some ways of course, technology isolates us even more. I could see a lot of crime stories being written featuring a character who only communicates through technology and either becomes a criminal or a victim as a result.
Jess Lourey: There’s a timeless appeal to locked room mystery in all its iterations, which is partially why Lucy Foley’s The Guest List did so well. They’re all trapped on an island with a killer, and the weather precludes good cell reception. Being unable to receive help adds an extra layer of tension, and I think mystery authors need to figure out how to work that into any story, no matter the timeline. Of course, I wimped out and started setting my books in the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s. No shame in a shortcut. 🙂
Heather Young: It’s not just that everyone has a cell phone and can call 911 from almost anywhere, it’s that there is so little privacy, and hence so few secrets, anymore. As a crime writer, it’s hard to give a character a dark past that somebody else couldn’t suss out just by Googling them or looking through their phone records and search history. I kind of like that challenge, though. If somebody’s got a secret that they’ve managed to keep from leaving any electronic footprint, it’s got to be really personal, and really, really dark.
Martin Edwards: I don’t see isolation as a purely physical phenomenon. In one’s mind, it is possible to be isolated even if one is in the heart of a bustling city, with no quarantine or lockdown. Writing is by nature a rather isolating occupation, but there’s no single way to deal with that isolation, either in one’s writing or one’s life. You have to figure out what works for you.
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Having to conduct all one’s events over Zoom can be a disconcerting experience. Any anecdotes or lessons you’d like to share from a year of online panels and discussions?
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Ivy Pochoda: Embrace makeup and a glass of wine even if it’s 3pm.
David Heska Wanbli Weiden: I think (hope!) that the Zoom-bombing phenomenon is lessening as organizers learn how to prevent this ugliness. The one instance that I experienced—which involved an elderly gentleman popping up on screen, completely naked and, uh, fully at attention—provoked a lot of laughter at the time. I still don’t know how I was able to continue reading after seeing that image, which is permanently seared in my head. But I should acknowledge that many of my author friends—especially those of color—experienced far worse attacks that were truly horrible.
Martin Edwards: Online events aren’t the same as live events and there’s no substitute for direct human contact. But I’m hugely grateful for the technology that exists, and as and when life recovers a semblance of normality, I’m sure the ability to have an online component to, say, festivals, will continue to be invaluable. It will enable festivals to be more inclusive than ever before, so that those who can’t attend for financial or disability-related reasons, for instance, will still be able to enjoy participating in this wonderful community of crime writers and readers.
Jacqueline Winspear: I think one lesson that applies to Zoom or any means of virtual communication is not to take ourselves too seriously. Millions of people have been affected by developments in communication and in the past year the pressure to use those tools has increased exponentially—but let’s not get too swept up by rules about doing this or that. Talk to people and converse with them in as relaxed a manner as possible. We’re all human beings in a brave new world! These are people who enjoy your work and they’ve found the time to login online and listen to you—what an honor that is, to have readers willing to spend their time with you online. Smile, enjoy it, make them feel welcome!
Brian Cliff: I think the accessibility this provides—for people with physical or financial or emotional or practical constraints— has been a boon that goes a long way to compensate for the loss of in-person intimacy at events. I did a panel for the NY Sisters in Crime recently, with three other authors I know well, moderated by my co-editor, Beth Mannion, and it was wonderfully collegial and comfortable. The one element Zoom doesn’t really facilitate is the more informal back and forth chat of an in-person panel. That’s a familiar mode for a lot of writers, I think, but on Zoom it seems just not to work (or at least to register just as awkward timing, more interruption than chat).
Khurrum Rahman: I don’t love it, but I don’t actually mind it. I’m used to getting very anxious and often tongue tied when sitting on a panel in front of a watching audience. Sitting in the comfort of your own home, in my pj’s takes away a little of that fear.
Christina Lane: Don’t you think Zoom has granted us all a little bit more patience and grace with each other? I’ve noticed that my colleagues and I know each other much differently—and much better—now. We’ve become much more acquainted with each other’s kids, and pets, and parents. How to characterize this new fluidity of time and space, this will take us a long time to figure out. And where we go from here? I think this is especially a question for the professional and creative spheres and particularly of note for professional women.
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Has the pandemic changed the way readers interact with your work?
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Laurie R. King: A lot of my more devoted fans have read their way through the entire series during the past year. New stories feel risky, in hard times. And when you can’t see your actual friends, visiting friends in familiar stories can be immensely comforting.
Jacqueline Winspear: I really don’t know that it has “changed” as such, but I think the elements a reader seeks in both fiction and non-fiction become of greater importance to them. For example, one of the powers of literature is in the revealing of universal truths—and that is arguably more visible in the two literary forms I have concentrated on; mystery fiction and memoir. In mystery the archetypal journey through chaos to resolution is reflected back to the reader, and if there’s one thing people are seeking now, it’s resolution. We want this pandemic journey to be over and if we can see troubling events come to an end in a story, it helps us trust that this too shall pass for us in real life. The element of “universal truths” means that no matter your cultural background, your family of origin, your gender, socio-economic situation (and so on) the story will speak to you and you will see a part of yourself reflected in the narrative—you feel seen and acknowledged. I think if anything, during this time of pandemic, readers are looking for those universal truths; they are searching for the glue that holds us all together, and if the story takes the reader through chaos and lands them in a place were all is well in the world again, then hope follows and the reader closes the book feeling very tightly held—or at least with a sense that troubling events come to an end. The qualities of resilience and endurance are sought out by readers who are going through challenging times.
Heather Young: As bookstore events went from in person to virtual, an interesting thing happened: audiences went from local to national. Instead of talking to a handful of people at a bookstore in Sebastopol, I could interact with dozens from all over the country on Zoom. I also loved attending other authors’ events from the comfort of my couch. Hopefully live-streaming author events is one pandemic adaptation we can keep.
Taryn Souders: I have been blown away at the range in which I’ve been able to interact with my readers. I’ve talked with kids from Ireland, Italy, England, and all over the US. I can honestly say I don’t think that would’ve happened if it hadn’t been for COVID. I’m not saying COVID was a good thing, but it forced us to figure out how to stay connected via options like Zoom and Google Meets and such. I’ve truly enjoyed visiting with readers from places I’d never “visited” before!
June Hur: I have no “before” and “after” experience since I debuted during the pandemic! Haha.
Nev March: Downside: had to launch my debut novel without being able to meet readers in person. On the upside, I was able to hold 22 online book-talks attended by readers in far-flung states, I’d probably not have been able to visit. The pandemic pushed me to promote more on social media, and the best part is getting readers’ emails and notes. How I love to get those messages, short and long “I loved reading your book.” As the author, I’m waltzing on air after each of them!
Khurrum Rahman: I love meeting readers at events and festivals, their enthusiasm and passion for books is infectious, and I’ve very much missed that interaction. They still reach out on social media, I guess more so than before and I’m always happy to take the time to chat with them and still fascinated at how they have interpreted my work.
David Heska Wanbli Weiden: As a debut author, my frame of reference is limited. Before the pandemic hit, I was able to attend exactly two big library conferences and sign ARCs for readers, so I never got to really experience the joys and miseries of live events. What’s been surprising over the last year are the ways that my readers have responded to Winter Counts. They’ve made videos, sent fan art, and even created lists of actors to play the roles if the book were to be made into a movie. All of this has been really cool and truly appreciated.
Illaria Tutti: I have received many messages from people who have rediscovered the pleasure of reading during the quarantine or in their convalescence after illness. It was touching to realize that my stories, in some way, can alleviate the difficulties that so many people are facing. The power of writing and reading is sometimes underestimated.
Kathleen Kent: So many people have felt helpless to affect significant change over the past year—many of us have been sheltering in place, waiting eagerly for the delivery person to bring us our necessities. It makes me happy to get messages from readers who can experience life vicariously through my female protagonist—Det. Betty Rhyzyk—who’s a take charge, won’t back down female cop, swimming against a tide of male colleagues and politicians.
Martin Edwards: During the past year, I’ve been struck by the fact that I’ve received many more messages from readers all over the world than previously. The pandemic may not be the only reason for this, but I get the impression that many people have made increasing efforts to reach out to fellow readers and writers online. Throughout the pandemic I’ve been searching for reasons to be cheerful, and this is definitely one of them.
Monica Hesse: Realizing that my book tour for They Went Left—released a full year ago, at the start of the pandemic—was going to now be virtual was a bit of a bummer. Not a huge bummer, given the scope of the country’s troubles at that point, but a bit of one. You work on something for several years, and you really want to meet readers and other authors face-to-face. But there was a lot about a virtual book tour that was lovely. My parents got to attend events, which they normally can’t. And teen readers who might live too far from book festivals, or who might not have the financial resources to get to them or adults able to drive them—they were able to log on and attend, too. The whole experience ended up being communal in its own way, which I really appreciated. My slogan for the year became, “Even if we can’t be in the same room, we can all be on the same page.”
