Mysteries on Canal Street

September 18, 2025October 10, 2025 ~ sharon ~ Leave a comment

What could be more fun than celebrating mysteries in New Orleans?

I just got home from the World Mystery Convention, commonly called Bouchercon, in the Big Easy at the Gulf end of the Mississippi River, and it was a great gathering.

To say Bouchercon, for those who are unfamiliar with the event, start with BOW (like what the butler does), followed by CHUR (like church), then CON. (not pro). Bow-chur-con.

The event this year, I heard, drew something like 1,600 people — readers and writers, book sellers and book buyers — from around the world for five days of fictional murder and mayhem, with panels, interviews, awards, and more.

And swag! Lots of swag. I came home with a (buried in the picture) Mardi Gras themed tote bag in purple, green and gold, filled with books, book marks, jar openers, a bottle opener, candy, key chains, book marks, a pair of socks (because we adopted a “pound puppy” when my kids were young), pens — always a favorite of mine– and (also buried) a t-shirt celebrating Blood on the Bayou–Case Closed. Authors bring the swag to remind readers of their books, and I picked up a bunch of it during one of the two Author Speed-Dating sessions. I went to the early-riser event with my roomie, Sharon Michalove (“City Sharon” to my “Country Sharon”), who was one of the authors introducing her work to the fans who attended.

The New Orleans case was finally closed. I originally planned to go to Bouchercon in New Orleans years ago, but COVID cancelled that trip. I had my fingers crossed that we would see no resurgence in September, and that a relatively calm hurricane season would also pass us by. Thankfully, neither calamity struck the city and “City Sharon” booked us a huge room an easy trolley ride from the conference hotel. One generous trolley driver who had to wait for a light even took my picture for me.

We came early and settled in for a week. On our first day in town, she took a cooking tour while I volunteered to help with conference set up. She loved the tour to the city’s School of Cooking, with a traveling beverage tour afterward. I’m lucky enough that my first trip to NOLA was for a food writers’ conference, so I figured I could pass on the tour.

We had a few meals in and around the French Quarter. One night I joined a group of several Blackbird Writers at the Court of Two Sisters where I had a great steak dinner with bread pudding for dessert. A few in our group, though, ordered the flambeed Bananas Foster, which was a show in itself.

Another night, I went to Bourbon House, which was also good. The highlight there, I thought, was the red-gowned woman entertaining with her trained parakeets just outside the window where we sat. Sadly, I didn’t get any pictures of her birds in action.(I was plying my fork, not my camera.)

The Creole House, next to the conference hotel, was handy for a breakfast, a lunch, and a dinner on different days of the conference. And the hotel, the Jung, where I stayed with my roomie, had a lovely weekend breakfast service, too. Next door to Tulane University Department of Medicine, and just blocks from the Superdome, the old hotel has a touch of elegance that newer hotels, for all their modernity, can’t touch. Our double-queen room would have been considered a suite in many other places. And the staff, who greeted us my name by the second morning, proved most helpful when we needed tips.

The meals and sidetrips were fun, but the best part of the conference was seeing old friends and making new ones. On most of those occasions I tended to get caught up in conversation and forgot to take pictures. But I really enjoyed them.

One new friend, Linda Amey, even helped me decide which of the many novel drafts I have to work on now that I’m home for a while. (Well, I will be heading to Stevens Point, Wisconsin, for the Wisconsin Writers Association conference next month. But that’s just a long weekend.) It’s lovely when a brand new friend helps you set a goal you’ve been dawdling about for months.

Next Bouchercon is in Calgary. I hope they have a great, big crowd of fans and writers!

In the meantime, I’ll be writing!

À bientôt!

Adieu, Malice

April 29, 2025May 13, 2025 ~ sharon ~ Leave a comment

For the past four years, I’ve been working behind the scenes for the mystery conference Malice Domestic®. This year, I stepped down. With mixed emotions.

^{(Photo courtesy Malice Domestic/John Mewshaw)}

The board I worked with this year was absolutely the best.

As with any new endeavor, the first year involved a steep learning curve. I really didn’t know what I was getting into when I offered my desktop publishing skills — learned over years of working in newspaper design — for the MD program. Turns out, my incredibly talented predecessor, Rita Owen, was doing way more than just slapping some program pages together. I never did fill her footsteps, as elements of the job she handed off to me got distributed among other board members.

My first year at the conference also was the first in-person Malice after COVID shut it down. My program had to incorporate two years of honorees and nominations and more. It was not flawless. (Not one of them has been.) And I lived in the office for most of the conference. I made it to two Sunday morning sessions in rooms that were mere footsteps away from my windowless corner office.

The second year went a little better, but I didn’t make it to a single session. Don’t get me wrong. I did make it to the banquet and the Agatha tea both years. They were wonderful. And I was hopeful for year three.

But shortly after we cleaned up and got home from Bethesda, Maryland, where Malice Domestic is held, we suffered through a painful board transition that threatened to derail a long-standing mystery community tradition. Cindy Silberblatt, who had been chair years before, stepped up and reeled us all back in. We had super help from our anthology publisher, John Betancourt of Wildside Press, to ensure that element of our tradition wasn’t interupted. Though it wasn’t our original theme, he and his hard-working staff gave us Mystery Most Devious (followed by this year’s Mystery Most Humorous) on time for our signing session. Even our honorees worked tirelessly to ensure a seamless conference.

A family health concern meant I was unable to attend the conference, though, so my fingers were crossed I could actually be there for my fourth Malice this year.

Despite an unexpected budget hit — I had to get a new furnace — I managed to get to Bethesda for the conference. Since it was my last year on the board, I really wanted to see a few sessions. And, thanks to the generous (and sometimes goofy) board that I worked with, I did!

I finally feel like I’ve had the fun, fan experience that is is Malice Domestic®. I made it to several sessions, including the Guest of Honor interview of Marcia Talley and the Lifetime Achievement interview of Donna Andrews.

I got to visit with fans and authors alike. Everyone was so friendly you really needed the nametags to know who was a fan and who was an author.

I enjoyed the Dorothy Gilman book club session in honor of our “Malice Remembers” author. I hope that becomes a tradition. I bought a trunk of middle grade books at the live auction. My grands and greats will enjoy that. (Yes, I have both.) I had fun, and added a couple of rows to my current afghan project, at Ellen Byron’s crafting session in the hospitality room.

I was busy on Thursday when Jane Cleland hosted a pre-Malice writing workshop, but I was lucky enough to join her table at the Agatha Awards banquet. She was a marvelous hostess and I enjoyed the company of everyone at our table. (Jane is wearing a red jacket.) I always love her Saturday morning workshops, and I finally had a chance to thank her in person. If you haven’t read her Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries, give them a try.

I even got to go to my first signing session as a short story author! A half dozen of the Guppies who are included in the eighth Guppy Anthology, Gone Fishin’: Crime Takes a Holiday, had our own signing session on Sunday morning. I have to thank the rest of the Malice board for making that happen, too. (Here’s hoping it becomes a new tradition.)

I’m sad to admit I’m probably not going to be able to attend next year for MD38, but I’m saving my money for a future Malice. (And I know a new furnace isn’t going to mess with my budgeting!)

If you like mysteries and have never attended Malice, I encourage you to go. The conference celebrates traditional mysteries in the vein of Agatha Christie (hence their awards, the Agathas). Check it out at malicedomestic.net! There’s still time for the early bird discount.

But for now, I need to hit the road for the next stop on my spring road trip.

À bientôt!

Christmas Messages

December 24, 2012December 24, 2012 ~ sharon ~ Leave a comment

Emily could feel the package slipping from her grasp. NO, she thought. I’ll never be able to pick it up if I drop it. But she could gain no purchase on the box, not without dropping one of the other four she was carrying.

She bobbled, trying to balance it, but just as she felt it slipping irretrievably to her left, a hand reached forward to grab it and push it back to the top of her pile.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, turning to see who had come to her aid.

“No problem,” he responded, before she’d even finished speaking.

Her brown eyes widened, and so did the matching orbs she saw before her.

“Matt?”

“Mom?”

“I had no idea you were in town,” Emily said, unsure what else she could say. It had been all of 20 years since he’d left to join the Air Force, to learn to fly. His father had been determined that Matt become a lawyer, forcing their son to go to the U of I before sending him to law school at Notre Dame. As soon as the degree was in his hand, Matt headed to the recruiter’s office.

“I did what he wanted,” Matt had told his mother that day. “Now I’m doing what I want.”

That was the last she’d seen him. His father, for whom Matt had been named, refused to go to basic training graduation, wouldn’t talk to him on the phone, forced Emily to cut their conversations short, was too busy to visit him when he moved from base to base. After a few years, he’d stopped calling home.

Now, he stood there looking almost exactly as he had all those years ago, hair still dark, the soft waves barely showing up in the short cut he’d always worn. His eyes were bright, but the grin she’d seen when she’d first turned around had faded.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” he said, dropping his gaze and mumbling.

“Are you living here now?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m staying with Brent Davis. You remember him? From my class in high school?”

Emily nodded.

“Can you two move ahead?” came a frazzled voice behind them.

“Sorry,” Emily responded, turning to shuffle a few feet ahead in the long pre-Christmas line at the post office. She turned back to Matt. “Yes, I remember Brent. He was at the house nearly every day.”

“I’m staying with him while I figure out where I’m going to live now.”

“Live now …?”

“I’m retired from the Air Force.”

“Retired,” Emily repeated quietly. Her son, retired? She noticed he was carrying packages, too. On his hand was a pale strip where a wedding ring might have been. Had he been married? What had happened? Did he have children?

“Retired,” she repeated. “Are you thinking about coming back home?”

“To Rockford?” he asked. “I don’t think so, but I’ll probably stay in the Midwest somewhere.”

She looked at him, wondered if he knew that his father had died a few years ago. She didn’t really want to tell him that in a line at the post office.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” she asked. “Would you like to come to the house for dinner? I’d love it if you’d join us. There are things,” she paused. “… things we should talk about.”

“I, uh,” he looked over her head. “You need to move up again,” he said, nodding toward the front.

She turned, moved a few feet closer to the counter, then turned back.

He was gone.

“Hey, lady, the line moved again,” said the stranger behind her. “Go forward.”