Post 1 of 4: First Impressions, Unexpected Encounters, and Finding My Place in Bristol
I only discovered CrimeFest in 2024 – a little too late to make it. But then came the email: CrimeFest 2025 would be the last one. I’m not sure what possessed me more – FOMO, loyalty to the crime fiction community, or pure adrenaline – but I booked my ticket almost immediately.
As an American who reads widely and writes slowly, I didn’t know what to expect. I’d never attended a UK book event before. I imagined reserved, slightly distant crowds, authors whisked off to private green rooms, and panels that kept newcomers like me firmly on the fringe.
Instead, I found myself standing in a Bristol hotel lobby, saying goodbye to my husband for the day, when a kind woman turned to me with a warm smile and made a gentle comment about couples still being affectionate. It took me by surprise, and I wasn’t sure how to respond except to say thank you. She lightly touched my arm, and we exchanged a few pleasantries — nothing momentous, just human warmth. It was only later that I realized I’d been talking to Ovidia Yu — one of the most prolific and celebrated mystery authors writing today. That brief encounter stuck with me, and it set the tone for what CrimeFest turned out to be: welcoming, human, and full of surprises.
A Festival Without Barriers
One of the best things about this event is that it wasn’t just another book fair. It didn’t feel stratified. You could bump into a debut novelist at the tea table and find a literary legend on the next barstool. I later asked Vaseem Khan — the brilliant author, President of the CWA, and one of my former online writing instructors via Curtis Brown Creative — about something I’d overheard: that British book events usually keep the “big names” separate from everyone else. He confirmed that was true, and that CrimeFest had intentionally modeled itself more like an American-style con — open, egalitarian, inviting. Even as yet unpublished writers could sit on panels, if their title was forthcoming. No one was off-limits.
That was more than just refreshing — it was rare.
I first spotted Vaseem during a break between panels. He was seated in the hotel lobby with two others — people I instinctively assumed were high-level publishing types: agents, perhaps, or editors. I hovered for a second, unsure whether I was intruding on something more professional than I had any right to join. As it turns out, I was — one of them was a well-known book reviewer, and the other, known in the crime fiction world as “The Doctor,” is the go-to consultant when authors need to ensure their fictional murders pass the believability test. Ultra professionals, indeed.
And yet, Vaseem saw me hesitate, smiled, and waved me over.
It was the first time we’d met in person, and the group couldn’t have been more welcoming. Vaseem shared that he’d recently been approached to write novels from the point of view of Q — yes, that Q, from the Bond universe. A remarkable opportunity, and he spoke about it with his usual humility and clarity. Sitting there, I realized how easily CrimeFest blurred the line between “audience” and “insider.” There was no stage and green room vibe here — everyone was part of the conversation.
Lee Child and the Art of Showing Up
What truly floored me that first day was seeing Lee Child already on a panel — as casually as if he were just another writer on the program. Authors at his level are usually saved for a keynote or one major appearance, then whisked away into the shadows. But Lee wasn’t just making a cameo.
He was there — fully present, each day, attending panels, chatting with attendees, blending into the fabric of the event without ever diminishing his natural magnetism. From what I gathered, he was one of the last to leave most nights.
He has that quiet charisma — the kind you can’t fake. And yes, the glint in his blue eyes tells you everything you need to know about the man who created Jack Reacher.
His presence helped anchor something about CrimeFest that I didn’t realize I was hungry for: a literary event where everyone is treated like a peer.
Day One: Overwhelmed but Right at Home
By the end of the first day, I was already overwhelmed — not in a bad way, but in the way you are when you realize you’ve stumbled into something more meaningful than you expected. I went with the notion I’d attend the panels, maybe meet a writer or two, and quietly soak in the energy.
Instead, I was in it. Talking with authors whose books line my shelves. Sitting beside strangers who became fast friends. Hearing stories I would never have heard if I’d stayed home.
And being gently tapped on the shoulder by Ovidia Yu — repeatedly, as it turns out, over the course of the event — with kindness and camaraderie that reminded me this was more than just a conference. It was a community.
