The Healing and Inspiring Effects of Killer Nashville

To be honest, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to generate the necessary energy to be a Guest of Honor at the Killer Nashville conference, which was a great honor in itself. After being on a seemingly never-ending book tour for the past eight months, I was, in a word, tired. But keep reading, because this turned out to be one of the best conferences I’ve been to in a long time.

Because COVID is on the rise again this summer, I wore a KN-95 mask in the Uber and airports at either end of the trip, and during the four-hour flight from San Diego, which makes my throat very dry. Wearing a mask for six hours also makes me dehydrated, so it can take some time for me to be able to rehydrate, recover, and have a conversation with anyone.

When I arrived at the hotel, I was ready to attend what I thought was a conference dinner. But it turned out to be an alcohol-only event, and since I rarely drink these days, I said hello to a couple of people I knew, introduced myself to the esteemed conference founder Clay Stafford, then left. All they had in the way of food were fried eggrolls, which my stomach won’t tolerate, so I set off to look for something I could digest. I couldn’t find anything but chips and salsa at the hotel’s free Happy Hour, so I stood in line at the restaurant to try to find something to eat there.

But, unfortunately, as the manager admitted, she didn’t have enough staff at the restaurant that night because she thought all of the conference attendees would be at the wine event. She didn’t realize it was a ticketed shindig, so many folks unexpectedly crowded into the restaurant, which had only one server. I was not the only attendee to have these issues, because the famous Sara Paretsky in her awards dinner speech remarked on the “foodless” hotel, which also had no restaurants or stores within walking distance. It was difficult even to find bottled water.

I met a few fellow crime writers in line at the restaurant who kindly invited me to join them, but it was very noisy in there, and with my voice still recovering, I was unable to speak much. Talking loudly could have actually strained or damaged my voice, so I had to beg off, knowing that I had four panels, a 40-minute Q&A, six book signings, and a speech to give at an awards dinner in the coming days. I told them to keep talking while I politely nodded and smiled. It was awkward, but they got the idea, and I mostly spoke softly to the person sitting next to me.

It’s always embarrassing to explain this to people, but in recent years I have developed voice issues that prevent me from talking in loud restaurants or at cocktail parties, especially with live music playing, and when I know I have speaking engagements, I’m reticent to talk much beforehand because my voice will give out. It’s always a challenge for me, but I’ve been making more of an effort to be more social after isolating during the pandemic, which is partly how I got these issues in the first place. If you don’t use your voice, you can literally lose it, plus I’ve injured it singing many times. I have been trying to retrain it—my voice therapist told me to sing as often as I can—and I also try to stay hydrated, but this is just the way it is, so

I’m constantly asking for people’s understanding. It’s also awkward for me to attend dinners with people, because I need to eat early, so I sometimes have to sit with folks and drink water while they eat or I will not be able to lie down to sleep for many hours. Long story, but that’s my life.

I bring all of this up, because these physical challenges make it difficult for me to travel and attend conferences, but I was determined to make the best of this one, because I was a Guest of Honor. They paid my way, and I had books to sell and fellow crime writers to meet, in spite of the social anxiety of re-entry challenges from years of Covid isolation—and my voice issues—that I was still working through.

The next day, I was on three panels, and had two book signings. I found myself opening up more as I enjoyed sharing with fellow crime writers my years of experience in researching and writing a dozen true crime books, and also my new series of thrillers that are about to launch in 2026. I honestly don’t really remember much of what we talked about, only that the people listening seemed to be avidly engaged, taking notes and asking questions. The bookstore was really loud, but I had a great spot in front and sold many of the three intimidating stacks books in front of me on day one.

I’ve been to many other conferences in my life, which spans several different careers in my various stages of success in writing and, later, publishing books. First came the investigative reporting and narrative journalism conferences, then came the book writing conferences, then came the crime reader/fan conferences.

It didn’t take long to see that Killer Nashville was quite unique in the welcoming nature of the attendees, many of whom come every year, and how close so many of them seemed. They were warm and happy to offer advice to the aspiring authors, and they were also very kind to me as a Guest of Honor. I felt like I had found my people, which has been a difficult thing to do. There aren’t that many true crime writers these days. It’s a shrinking avocation just like journalism is, because it’s damned hard and time-consuming to do properly. I also don’t know that many crime fiction writers in San Diego either.

I had thought I was going to have to bow out of having dinner with the other Guests of Honor at Clay Stafford’s house because of my voice issues and the lateness of the hour, but because my voice was holding up, I decided I would go and not eat. And I’m so glad I did. I got a chance to hang out with Clay, J.A. Jance, who has written sixty-eight books, and also Patrick Von Wiegandt, the band leader who had been playing at the wine event the night before.

Somehow, the subject of me playing and singing in a band came up, and next thing I knew, I’d agreed to sit down with Patrick and see if we could find a few songs I could sing with his band during the awards dinner. Sure, I said, let’s discuss it. Here I was, worried I couldn’t get through the panels with a voice enough to go to Clay’s house, and the next thing you know I’m talking about singing in front of all these people? Whatever was I thinking?

I went to bed early that night, so I would be ready to get up in time to do my 40-minute interview with Clay at eight o’clock the next morning, which was 6 a.m. my time. I woke up at 5:30, or 3:30 my time, and had some tea, hoping the caffeine wouldn’t take my voice away, which it can do sometimes. Dang, I was tired, but I was going to push through. It was showtime!

Clay is a great interviewer and I enjoyed talking with him about how I researched and wrote my new book, DOWN TO THE BONE, about the McStay family murders. It must have been a decent interview, because I sold a bunch more books to people who got up early enough to listen. One woman sent me a note telling me my interview was “mesmerizing.” I’m not sure what she had for breakfast that morning, but I’d like to have some of it!

Later that morning, I was on a panel with some fellow journalists and we talked about the sad state of journalism today. I had no idea how much I needed to vent about this topic, how the industry has shrunk and fallen victim to hedge fund managers who have bought up news outlets and turned them into partisan vehicles to spread misinformation, disinformation, and political talking points. How ethics seem a thing of the past. How journalists aren’t asking the hard questions they should be. Afterward, my fellow panelists and some attendees told me how much my comments resonated with them.

Once again, I felt good, because I had found more of my people and it was good to get the tribe back together again—even though I’d never met any of them before, we all shared a deep ideological need to expose wrongdoing. That’s who we are, and that’s what I’ve been thinking about as I’ve been writing the investigative reporter character, Katrina Chopin, in my new thriller series, which launches with HOOKED in January. Suffice it to say, there’s at least a little bit of me in Katrina.

After lunch, Clay did a similar interview with Sara Paretsky, who is such a wonderful, warm, and lovely woman, with her many, many books stacked up beside her on stage. She’s so genuine and modest and yet so accomplished, she made me cry a couple of times while she was speaking. Afterward, I went up to her to tell her how much I enjoyed her talk, and someone asked if I would like to take a picture with her. Of course, I said, and was proud to post it on Facebook. (And here!)

For those of you who don’t know, Sara has written a million books, touching on themes that are important to women at times when it was hard to do—just as it is now—and she was also a founding member of Sisters in Crime. I wished I’d been able to spend more time chatting with her at Clay’s house.

That afternoon, I sat down with Patrick and we came up with three songs that I would sing with the band, one as a solo, which was “Can’t Find My Way Home.” It’s one that I sing regularly with In the Lounge, the jazzy bluesy trio I play in with my partner, Géza Keller, and our bass player Tom Borg. Before that one, we sang “Daydream” and “Sunny Afternoon.” I was very nervous, because I typically focus on playing keyboards and singing backup, so I don’t sing lead that often.

I was quite pleased to get some nice compliments afterward, the first of which was from a woman who said she was enjoying my singing. “Are you going to sing some more?” she asked hopefully. That was pretty awesome. Another friend posted on IG afterward, “You were fantastic. I had no idea!”

This is what Carla Conti, a fellow true crime panelist, wrote in her Substack post about the conference: “Caitlin Rother KILLED it on stage! I can’t end this section without mentioning Caitlin’s surprise performance singing with the band on stage at the Killer Nashville awards dinner. Fun fact: Caitlin is a classically trained pianist and plays keyboard and sings vocals for a jazzy bluesy trio called In the Lounge in her native San Diego … Needless to say, she killed it at Killer Nashville!”

Let’s just say that all made my night, which ended with a terrific speech by Sara Paretsky, followed by an unexpected gift. Clay gave all three of us Guests of Honor a Fender guitar with our name engraved on a metal plate. So cool! I went up to my room, smiling. My heart was full.

The next day, I had only a couple of books left to sell, which I did even before the 11 a.m. book signing officially started. That meant I sold out. Another great and rare feeling. I spent the rest of the morning chatting with folks and attending a panel about medical mysteries, and then the conference was over.

I had a great time overall, but more importantly, I felt like a flower, spreading my petals in the sun, healed, inspired, reinvigorated and ready to take on the next event, which is tomorrow, back here at home, at the La Jolla library. Because a never-ending book tour is just that.

Just a couple things in closing. Géza came to join me that afternoon to start a few days of vacationing and sightseeing. We managed to fit in a lot of musical education by visiting the Country Western Hall of Fame, the National African American Museum of Music, and finally the Grand Ole Opry.

I’m not a country western fan—I enjoyed the African American museum much more—but the Grand Ole Opry was actually a fun tour. It included a visit to the stage, where you could look up at the ascending pews that can accommodate an audience of 4,400 people as they watch the shows, which are broadcast over the radio. At center stage is a wooden circle literally called the Circle, where aspiring artists fulfill their lifelong dreams by singing on the stage that they’ve worked so hard to reach. As part of the tour, we were allowed to step into the Circle and get a photo taken while singing a line from a favorite song.

Géza wanted to do it together, so we both stepped up, only he was careful not to set foot inside the Circle and jinx whatever chance he might have in the future to do it for real. I, on the other hand, have no such worries, so I stepped inside, took the mic, which was not on, and imagined the audience before me as I belted out the opening line from “Can’t Find My Way Home.” I felt the spirit run through me, the electric energy that dwells in the same spot where Patsy Cline, Dolly Parton and June Carter Cash have sung before me. A woman on the tour with us gasped and exclaimed praise from the sidelines, which took me by surprise, and again, left me smiling wide.

So, my takeaway from this trip was a three-fold message from the universe: Keep networking and talking to readers and writers alike, keep writing, and the biggest surprise of all, keep singing!