I'm not one to take pictures or video, nor to write journals. I prefer the moment to any attempts to record it for future consumption. (I also, um, suck at taking pictures, which may be a more honest reason for the dearth of them here.) As such, this post isn't going to be the typical pic and link fest most B'con wrap-ups are.
Instead, I'd like to say this: if you're a writer or a reader of crime fiction, be it traditional mysteries or the bleakest noir, next year clear your calendar and go go go. I promise you, you won't regret it.
I'm not someone who likes crowds. Or public speaking. Or having my picture taken. Truth is, I'm usually happiest on my couch with my laptop, clacking away like I am right now. Bouchercon pushed me so far outside my comfort zone, I couldn't see it from where I was standing. And, God help me, I loved every minute of it.
As far as nuts and bolts, I think my panels went pretty well (feel free to ask around, since there's a chance I'm a tad deluded on that point), and for the record, the Anthony for Best Short Story went to Dana Cameron (congrats, Dana!), not me. But the nuts and bolts of B'con don't tell the tale. The story, as any good story should be, is rooted in character. And my, the characters I met.
I'm not going to list all the folks I met in St. Louis, largely because I'll no doubt fail in my attempt, and feel terrible about it when I realize that great conversation I forgot to mention. So let me instead say this: if I talked to you, hung out with you, or so much as bumped into you in the hallway, it was my pleasure. To my tweeps in particular, you're even more charming and delightful in person, and I'm glad to count you as my friends. And a special thanks go out to Jon, Ruth, and Judy, the unlikeliest set of guardian angels you'll ever meet. You're all aces in my book.
So thanks, all. Once, and I'm hooked. It's a hell of a thing to find one's tribe. Which means I guarantee I'll see you all next year.