October 21, 2024

Everything in Moderation

“Everything in moderation?” Is this about politics AGAIN?

No need! America is going to have a relatively quiet November, with a smooth election that showcases the stability of our democracy.

Are you high? Is that what you mean by “moderation?”

The title is actually about conferences and moderating panels.

Could we get high instead of talking about conferences?

We cannot. This is something I’ve been mulling over for a while, and I was considering asking about it on social media, but I’d rather gargle bleach than debate anything on social media. So I thought I’d ask this of the readers of my newsletter:

When we moderate panels at conferences or festivals, shouldn’t we be compensated?

You’re not compensated?

Of course not.

Wait, why do you ask? Does everyone get paid but me?

Ha ha, no. We do it for the community, jerk.

Ah, good. That’s what I thought.

But, also, really? Moderating a panel is a lot of work, and the job is relatively thankless. If you’re a good moderator, you’re going to familiarize yourself with the panelists (ideally, by reading their most recent book), prepare a list of questions that ensures equal discussion and participation from all the panelists, quietly steer the conversation to make it both informative and entertaining, not sexually harass anyone, and not have a presence on the panel. Like a referee during a football game, it’s best if you’re both influential and unnoticed.

That’s not easy and, even if you do all those things well, there’s a good chance one of the writers will still complain about not getting enough speaking time, or get mad because you didn’t ask a certain question, or think your haircut is stupid. Writers are the worst. As a writer, I can say that.

Bro, don’t you believe in being a good literary citizen?

I do! I definitely do.

But.

Conferences are expensive! There’s the cost of travel, and registration and, dwarfing those expenses, the hotel bar. And then, after all that, you’re essentially paying to work for the organization.

Conferences aren’t exactly flush with cash. And now you want them to pay every moderator?

Oh, I have a keen understanding of how little money conferences (and writing organizations in general) make. I’m not asking that at all.

But couldn’t there be some other form of compensation?

Most conferences and festivals carry the moderators’ books in their bookstore.

They do but, as I said, a good moderator isn’t there to sell their own books. And they probably won’t.

So exactly how do you envision bleeding conferences dry?

I have ideas, but it depends on the particular event. And, keep in mind, the ideas below could very well be logistical nightmares, but none are impossible:

• Comped or discounted registration. Comped registration for moderators would be the dream, but even I know that’s impractical. Most of these organizations are heavily reliant on registrations to offset their programming and space fees. That said, I have to imagine that a slight discount would be doable? Maybe 5-10% of the event registration? Someone do the math for me.

• In-kind gifts. Maybe it’s a couple of books from the conference bookstore, or a few free drinks from the hotel bar, or a discounted meal ticket for that event’s banquet.

• A sash that says moderator. With sparkles. Otherwise, no deal.

• Special bookstore placement. In honor of their contribution to the event, moderators’ books would be prominently highlighted in the bookstore. And customers would be forced to browse them.

• Special mention in the conference totes/program. This is easy, but of dubious value. A lot of events will thank volunteers by name in a page in their program, but being mentioned in a list of a hundred names isn’t really anything. I’d prefer the 5% off registration, or a pair of free books. Or the sash (with sparkles).

All that would be nice but, hate to break it to you Big Ed, none of your ideas would work.

Oh, I know my ideas may not be feasible. But I’d bet that the creative teams behind these conferences could come up with something good.

Unless, that is, they don’t really care about writers.

(Boom, reverse psycholgy’d your ass, conference teams.)

Truthfully, this sounds selfish. These events are there to help writers. And they need volunteers to survive.

My first ThrillerFest was where I initially met the crime fiction community, and some of the writers I met back then became, and remained, close friends. There’s an excitement these events bring, and a feeling of community, and much of that is the result of countless, draining hours that the organizers put in behind the scenes.

Compensating moderators (in some form) isn’t meant to stand in opposition to that sentiment. Rather, this is a way to bring moderators further into the fold, to encourage participation, and demonstrate how much you value those working on your behalf.

More to the point, being a good moderator requires a lot. And writers are often asked to support their community, almost always on a volunteer basis. Generally, that’s fine! We know the deal.

But if there’s a possibility to compensate someone willing to work on your behalf - and I believe, in this case, there is - then you should compensate them, however you can.

Disabuse yourself of the notion that the people willing to work for you are the ones who are being selfish.

So what’s the next step?

Next I email conference organizers and ask them about this, but first I want to hear from subscribers. Am I missing something? In your experience and knowledge, is this feasible? Let me know how wrong I am!

EA

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I’m back in the Washington Post with a review of Exposure by Ramona Emerson. Emerson’s debut, Shutter, was longlisted for the National Book Award, and the sequel showcases the talent promised in that novel. This was a fun, albeit sobering, read, about a Native American forensic photographer who sees the spirits of the murdered, and the serial killer she crosses paths with. Do wacky hijinks ensue? They do not, but Emerson does write a top-notch thriller with fascinating character insights. Check out my review HERE.

Long Time Gone, by Hannah Martian

In the small town of Wonderland, Wyoming, the truth is whatever the Coldwater family says it is. When their prodigal daughter, Jessica, was murdered forty years ago, their truth was that Holly Prine killed her - regardless of Holly's innocence. But the Coldwaters aren't the only reason private investigator Quinn Cuthridge hasn't set foot in the town in nearly a decade. After her aunt sent her away when she was a teen, Quinn swore she'd never return. When she gets an unexpected call from her aunt's ranch hand, Hunter, Quinn learns that her aunt has gone missing. Reluctantly, she returns to Wyoming to investigate and soon realizes that her aunt was getting dangerously close to long-buried Wonderland secrets, including who really murdered Jessica Coldwater. As Hunter and Quinn dig into what lies in the Wyoming backcountry, attraction flares between the two women, complicating their investigation-and Quinn's steadfast refusal to have any ties to Wonderland. With someone threatening Quinn and her own dark past echoing in the present, Quinn must struggle against her hometown and herself.

Ocean Drive, by Sam Wiebe

His first day out of prison, paroled killer Cameron Shaw meets with a mysterious lawyer who offers him a small fortune to infiltrate the League of Nations crime syndicate. Shaw turns her down, intending to go straight. But with no job, no family and no prospects, he's soon compelled to take her offer. In the small Pacific Northwest town of White Rock, a body is pulled from a burning house. Staff Sgt. Meghan Quick identifies the victim as grad student Alexa Reed. Alexa's behavior during her last few days strikes Quick as bizarre. Why did she remove the for-sale sign from her parents' house, and why was she trying to meet with the League of Nations? As Quick tries to solve Alexa's homicide, Shaw moves deeper into the League's cross-border drug trade. With the threat of a gang war looming, and long-buried secrets coming to light, Quick must find Alexa's killer, while rescuing Shaw from the brutal gang violence that threatens the future of White Rock.

Our Kind of Game, by Johanna Copeland

2019. Stella Parker has the life she’s always wanted: a loving husband, two happy children that she gave up her thriving law career to raise, and a beautiful house in the tony suburbs of Washington, DC. But when her neighbor Gwen shows up at her door, claiming to know things about her, Stella’s life is thrown into turmoil and she’s forced to reckon with the dark secret upon which she’s built her life.

1987. Julie Waits yearns to be a cheerleader—a gateway to a world of normalcy with best friends and sleepovers, and an escape hatch from life with her widowed mother, the terrible men she attracts, and the upheaval caused by their abrupt and constant moves. But when her mother decides those relationships are over, the past becomes a forbidden subject that Julie can never revisit.

As Stella probes deeper into what brought Gwen to her door, the answer—and who Julie is to her—become increasingly, terrifyingly, clear.

Ed. Note: I had the chance to see a panel with Johanna Copeland and Aliah Wright (below) with K.T. Nguyen at Fall for the Book, and both Johanna’s and Aliah’s book sounded great. Definitely intrigued.

Now You Owe Me, by Aliah Wright

Ben and Corinthia spent years abducting college coeds, until one night they took the wrong victim…No one knew witnessing their first murder at seven would propel Ben and his twin toward a killing spree in Pennsylvania. Racked with guilt, they vow to take just one more victim. Too bad they snatched the wrong woman.

It's giveaway time! The winner of any of the four books listed above (your pick) is:

judy________er@gmail.com

Congrats, and I'll send you an email soon!

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The Unrepentant

They’re Gone

No Home for Killers

When She Left

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