CrimeFest 2025

There was one thing that made this year’s CrimeFest a little different — a thoughtful gesture that felt like a love letter to long-time attendees.

Included in every welcome bag was a limited-edition anthology, featuring short stories by some of the most celebrated authors in the genre — all long-time supporters of the event.

Lee Child, who famously doesn’t write short stories, penned the foreword — and it’s wonderful. Witty, warm, and wise, it captures the essence of what made CrimeFest such a beloved institution. That anthology felt less like swag and more like a keepsake — something you’d tuck onto your shelf next to books you plan to keep.

The bag also included five additional mystery novels, and one of them introduced me to a completely new (to me) author: Catherine Steadman. I received a galley copy of The Disappearing Act — a book that can’t be sold, only shared — and was surprised to learn that Steadman is not only a best-selling novelist but also an actress, perhaps best known for her role in Downton Abbey.

Now, I realize fans of the show might want to stone me for this, but I had no idea who she was before reading her novel — and honestly? She has serious writing chops. I’m already looking forward to reading more of her work. This is the kind of literary serendipity that only happens when you’re handed something you didn’t know you were looking for.

And then… there was a whisper. Quiet. Unconfirmed. But real enough to spark a bit of hope.

There may be someone interested in buying CrimeFest and continuing the event.

No names. No formal announcement. Just a gentle murmur that someone — somewhere — sees the value in what’s been built and wants to keep it going. I’m sure the original organizers will take great care in any handover, should it happen. CrimeFest has always had heart, and I can’t imagine they’d let it become just another soulless stop on a publishing PR tour.

Still, it was the kind of rumor that made people smile. The kind that lets you leave not with a goodbye, but with a maybe.

Post 3 of 4: The Uneasy Future of Publishing, as Told at CrimeFest 2025

If you’d asked me what I expected from CrimeFest, “existential dread about the future of publishing” wouldn’t have been high on the list. But sure enough, across panels, hallway chats, and late-evening pub debates, one theme kept reappearing: uncertainty. About writing. About publishing. 

About the very nature of storytelling in an age of AI, algorithms, and international tariffs.

It wasn’t the focus of every conversation — but somehow, it still felt like the undercurrent of the entire event.

The AI Cloud

AI wasn’t invited to CrimeFest, but it showed up anyway.

Sometimes it was mentioned offhandedly — as a concern for editors or booksellers. Other times, it took center stage. Almost every panel I attended, regardless of topic, circled back to it in some way.

The mood was clear: everyone hates AI, and no one knows what’s coming.

There’s a creeping anxiety about the rise of publishers and platforms promising to produce entire catalogs of AI-generated fiction. At one point, someone mentioned a company whose model involved publishing only AI novels, and not just a few — they planned to release hundreds, all of which would be (they claimed) “guaranteed bestsellers.”

Cue the scoffing.

I wish I could remember the publisher’s name or the numbers they were throwing around — but honestly, the math was so absurd, it bordered on parody. It made me wonder whether anyone at that company had ever even read a book, let alone tried to write or market one.

Everyone I spoke to — authors, editors, reviewers — was in agreement: this isn’t innovation, it’s pollution.

Tariffs and Trickledown Trouble

Politics also crept into the panels — especially when it came to the practical side of publishing. Several authors mentioned the impact of U.S. tariffs, particularly under Trump-era policies that have lingered in one form or another.

The knock-on effects? Higher printing costs, unpredictable international rights deals, delayed shipments, limited bookstore stock. It’s made everything harder — especially for debut and midlist authors, the ones who aren’t backed by a seven-figure contract.

I hadn’t fully appreciated just how connected the book-to-film pipeline is to global politics. But the creatives at CrimeFest made it clear: everything is connected. A paper shortage in Europe, a tariff change in the U.S., an AI tool scraping content in China — it all eventually lands on the desk of someone trying to write a good book and get it into the hands of readers.

The Panel That Gobsmacked Me

Of all the panels I attended, one in particular left me gobsmacked — and, if I’m honest, more than a little heartbroken.

It featured five authors from different sub-genres:

• A fantasy murder mystery
• A serial killer thriller
• A Golden Age-style mystery
• A cozy
• A psychological suspense novel

Each author had a completely different tone, voice, and audience. They were each represented by different publishers. And yet, they’d all experienced the same thing:

Their original book titles had been rejected in favor of algorithm-generated ones.

Let that sink in.

Each author shared the titles they’d come up with themselves — and for the most part, I thought they were smart, evocative, even a little daring. These were the kinds of titles that would make me turn a book over and read the back cover. They had personality.

But their publishers said no. Now that “marketing AI” is part of the publishing process, titles are chosen based on what will maximize SEO, social performance, and click-through rates. All five authors ended up with near-identical titles, varying only in the fill-in-the-blank:

• Murder at [Something] House
• Death at [Something] Manor
• The Mystery of the [Insert Setting]

Titles so bland, so interchangeable, so utterly beige — I would have assumed they were paperbacks from the early ’80s, repackaged and quietly reissued. I wouldn’t have looked twice. Not because the books weren’t good, but because the titles told me nothing.

What bothered me most was this: the originality of these books had been flattened by a machine designed to serve trends rather than readers. And the authors had little choice in the matter.

As a creative person, this made me deeply uneasy.

Writing Into the Future

It’s a strange time to be a writer. We’re told to build platforms, study market trends, and feed the algorithm — all while protecting our voices, preserving our craft, and avoiding burnout. CrimeFest made that tension feel both very real and very personal.

And yet, in spite of all this, the event wasn’t grim. It was honest. Writers aren’t giving up — they’re adapting, resisting, reinventing.

The creativity is still there. The fire is still there. And frankly, the best writing still comes from humans — full of nuance, contradiction, and perspective. No AI can replicate the feeling I had watching five writers quietly mourn their lost titles, even as they cracked jokes about it.

We’re not done yet. Not even close.

Next (and final) post in the series:

Why CrimeFest Was Worth It (And Why It Might Be the Last of Its Kind)

Post 2 of 4: Star Encounters, Sibling Revelations, and a Bookish Surprise

There’s a certain unwritten rule when it comes to literary festivals: the bigger the name, the more carefully orchestrated the appearance. The star author swoops in, dazzles for an hour, signs books under tight security, and vanishes through a staff-only door.

So you can imagine my surprise when I discovered Lee Child—yes, that Lee Child—wasn’t just scheduled to appear at CrimeFest 2025. He was already on a panel the first day, casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. No fanfare, no entourage. Just the man who created Jack Reacher, sitting down to talk books like the rest of us.

The Child Brothers: Casual Brilliance

Lee and his younger brother Andrew Child (who has taken over the reins of the Reacher novels) hosted a panel together that was easily one of the most anticipated sessions of the weekend. But rather than the polished, press-junket energy you might expect, it was deeply personal—two brothers talking shop in front of a crowd that adored them.

They spoke candidly about how their writing partnership works, what it’s like to carry forward a legacy without making it feel like a hand-me-down, and how their sibling bond fuels their creative process. There was real humor in the way they poked fun at each other – playfully wry bickering one moment, mutual respect the next.

There was one particular story that had the room laughing—a bit of Reacher-style logic applied to some real-life family friction. (Let’s just say: if you’re ever in a pub quiz with the Child brothers, back away slowly.)

And speaking of quizzes…

The Final Showdown: Trivia, Talent, and a Humble Giant

It’s said that a Reacher novel is sold every nine seconds. And yet somehow, Lee Child remains one of the most humble, approachable, and deeply present writers I’ve ever encountered.

He didn’t just show up for his panels and disappear. He stuck around. All weekend. He was often one of the last to leave. And even after most of the attendees had headed home on the final day, he showed up one last time – as team captain in the festival’s closing event: a crime fiction trivia battle between visiting authors and the festival organizers.

The organizers were formidable—walking encyclopedias of crime lit with a possibly unfair home-field advantage. Lee held his own, though, rattling off obscure facts and lesser-known book titles like it was second nature. His knowledge of writing trivia is, frankly, astonishing.

The organizers won (and I strongly suspect the questions were stacked in their favor), but no one seemed to mind. It was just one more way Lee Child showed up—not as a literary godhead, but as a man who clearly, deeply loves the world of books and writers. Captain of the trivia team on the very last day? That says everything.

Enter: Mark Gatiss (and a Surprise Hug)

If seeing Lee Child was surreal, meeting Mark Gatiss was something else entirely. I knew he’d be there to promote his new show, Bookish, but I didn’t expect to actually meet him—let alone have a moment I’ll probably be replaying for the rest of my life.

He impressed me immediately—not just because of who he is (actor, screenwriter, novelist, and half the creative force behind Sherlock and Inside No. 9)—but because of how present he was. He wasn’t scanning the room for someone more important. He wasn’t hurrying away from the fans. He was completely in the moment.

We exchanged a few words – just enough to mumble how much his work has meant to me – and then, unexpectedly, he hugged me. Just a warm, human, unscripted hug. I was stunned. And deeply touched, wishing I had the social dexterity to speak coherently with him, and without feeling like I might pass out.

Mark Gatiss wasn’t performative or “celebrity charming.” It felt sincere. And I know I wasn’t the only one—everyone who interacted with him came away a little bit glowy.

Bookish: A New Kind of Adaptation

Gatiss’s panel about Bookish was a fascinating peek behind the camera, but also before the camera ever got rolling. The character, the set-up – the entire show is entirely his own creation, and hearing him talk about it was a rare insight into how deeply personal projects come to life—and what it means to collaborate when those projects extend across media.

He wasn’t alone on stage. The author who’s been tasked with adapting Bookish from screen to page also joined the conversation. The two of them discussed what it’s like to move a story from one medium to another, and how you preserve voice and tone without making it feel like a simple transcription.

There was an unexpected honesty to the conversation—how difficult it is to translate mood and atmosphere from screen to page. They didn’t gloss over it or try to sell us something. They just told us the truth: adaptation is art, and it’s messy, and collaborative, and not always easy. Their second season was already green lit before the Pilot was aired.

Not Just Celebrities—Storytellers

What struck me most wasn’t the fame of the people I met. It was how down-to-earth, generous, and genuinely enthusiastic they were about the craft. These weren’t celebrities trying to move books or shows. They were writers talking about writing. Creators talking about what drives them. Siblings teasing each other in public. Storytellers letting us into their process.

And that hug? That hug is staying with me.

Next UP in the series:

AI, Algorithms, and Other Things That Make Writers Nervous

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.

Next UP in the series:

Meeting Reacher’s Creator (and Getting Hugged by Mark Gatiss)