Report: Bloody Scotland 2026

Between September 18 and 20, 2026, the Bloody Scotland International Crime Writing Festival took place in Stirling, Scotland, and I visited from the very first day. Crossing the bus street in front of Stirling Station (Goosecroft Road) and walking up a slight incline, I arrived at Murray Place, a bustling street lined with fast-food joints like McDonald's and a shopping centre. Even around 10:00 AM on a Friday morning, there were a reasonable number of pedestrians out and about, and the street was far from deserted.

Looking it up online, I learned that Bloody Scotland was founded in 2012 out of a practical, literary ambition among authors who wanted to showcase Scotland's exceptional crime fiction to the world. Stirling was chosen as the host city because it serves as the geographical heart of Scotland—a compact, historic city easily accessible from all regions—rather than as part of a municipal regeneration initiative like the Newark Book Festival. (However, once the festival took off, an influx of tourists and international readers generated substantial footfall and economic benefits—reaching tens of thousands in terms of ticket sales and aggregate attendance, with 2,500 to 4,000 unique visitors on the ground—leading Stirling Council to actively sponsor and support the event as a core pillar of cultural tourism).

Following the road along its curve, I encountered a sloping street lined with shops on both sides (King Street). At the crest of the slope stood a clock tower (The Athenaeum), giving the impression that this was the main thoroughfare frequented by visitors. Two of the festival's primary venues, The Golden Lion Hotel and Made in Stirling, were located along this street. They were just a three-minute walk apart, and together they hosted roughly 60% of all events on the programme (out of 62 events in total: 23 at The Golden Lion Hotel and 14 at Made in Stirling).

Another major venue was The Albert Halls, hosting 18 events, but this was a bit farther off—about a 15 to 20-minute walk from King Street. Several other smaller venues hosted one or two events each, but they were situated even further afield. The dedicated crime bookshop, an indispensable fixture of such festivals, was set up on the ground floor of The Golden Lion Hotel. There was a bar counter within the same space, suggesting it normally serves as a bar lounge. While I didn't spot anyone carrying a branded tote bag this time, I did notice a few people with Bloody Scotland branded paper carrier bags; perhaps these were provided for authors, panellists, or the press.

Having confirmed the lay of the land, I grabbed lunch at the McDonald's I had passed earlier, and then headed off to attend my first pre-booked talk.

Lecture 1: Call the Polis

Speakers

Moderator

Discussion Highlights

*Please note that these highlights are a broad summary of the main points.

Q (Moderator): The police procedural is a genre that is timeless yet constantly evolving. What drives all of you to write police procedurals and series based around them, and what is it that keeps drawing us readers in?

Andrew: "I think the appeal of the police procedural lies in having to adhere to a set of established rules. In their day-to-day duties, police officers face strict boundaries on most of their actions and cannot simply deviate at will. Readers respond well to that kind of 'rule-governed environment.' By keeping the story within a fairly rigid framework, every reader knows the rules of the game inside and out. There has to be a detective solving the crime, and there has to be a twist somewhere in the plot. Consequently, by the time you read the very first page, you don't know who the culprit is. That is the fundamental essence of crime fiction, and it's remarkably straightforward. I believe this structure is precisely what makes it so compelling. And of course, there's the exploration of the darker facets of human nature—experiencing a kind of vicarious thrill in pondering what humans are capable of doing to one another."
Caro: "I think there's also a commercial aspect to that question. Most agents and publishers prefer series because readers love the comfort of knowing 'familiar characters.' Furthermore, because the police force is such a strict hierarchy, the protagonist detective often tends to be an 'everyman' who pushes back just a little against institutional rules. I think readers really resonate with that rebellious streak."
James: "Having a clear structure already in place is an immense help to lean on when someone who has never written a novel before sets out to write. It also gives readers a tremendous sense of reassurance. They can anticipate 'what they're going to get,' and then enjoy seeing 'how those expectations get upended.' I believe that's one of the key factors that sustains the enduring popularity of this format."

Lecture 2: Death on the Island

Speakers

Moderator

*Note: Lin Anderson was unable to attend due to unforeseen circumstances, and J.M. Dalgliesh took the stage in her place.

Discussion Highlights

*Please note that these highlights are a broad summary of the main points.

Q (Moderator): In addition to the common element that all your featured works are set on islands, these places harbor countless secrets and lies, and the detectives are essentially peeling them away layer by layer. Who is telling the truth? How is this person connected to that one? My question is: how do you manage to keep a complete grip on all these narrative threads?

Andrew: "I write according to a systematic plotting methodology—the Six-Stage Plot Structure [a storytelling framework formulated by American script consultant and story expert Michael Hauge, which adapts Hollywood's three-act screenwriting model into six distinct stages and five key turning points]. Before I even start writing, I also establish multiple load-bearing anchor points that support the entire arc of the story."
Moderator: "So, you are truly meticulous and planned out?"
Andrew: "I have to be. For me, narrative fundamentally springs from character conflict—that is the engine driving everything. I think we've all watched TV dramas where, thirty minutes into the premiere, you find yourself wondering, 'Why isn't this pulling me in?' That happens because the characters are simply wandering from room to room exchanging exposition, giving the viewer no genuine sense of jeopardy or conflict. Someone wants something, and someone else is standing directly in the path preventing them from getting it. At their core, great dramas possess that tension in every single chapter and scene. Once those opposing forces are locked into their proper places, and the beginning, midpoint, and ending are firmly established, navigating everything in between feels like tracking a train running down its tracks."

Lecture 3: Private Investigations

Speakers

Moderator

Discussion Highlights

*Please note that these highlights are a broad summary of the main points.

Q (Moderator): How do you approach the writing process? Are you a "plotter" who plans meticulously, or a "pantser" who writes by the seat of their pants?

Chris: "These days, I make sure to plan. When I first started out, I wrote with no outline at all, but I kept digging myself into traps. I would only settle on the identity of the killer towards the very end, which forced me into massive rewrites. Because of that, I now prefer having a framework. It's just a few lines of notes per chapter, but having that skeleton provides peace of mind."
Leye: "I don't plan at all. Across every book I've written, I knew the core premise and where the story would end, but I had no idea how to get from the beginning to that conclusion. Since I never studied creative writing at school, I used to harbor a real sense of inferiority. That changed when I attended a session at the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival featuring Lee Child and John Grisham. When asked whether they plotted, Grisham, a former lawyer, explained how he mapped everything out with color-coded sticky notes. Sitting in the audience, my heart sank: 'I really am an impostor; they're going to see right through me.' But then Lee took the microphone and declared, 'I don't plot at all. At the end of a chapter, I have Reacher jump off a cliff into desperate peril. After that, it's not my problem anymore—it's Reacher's job to figure it out!' I felt like jumping up and shouting, 'Yes! That's fine too!' It was the single most liberating moment I've ever experienced."
Heather: "I briefly experimented with outlining, but I realized that the true essence of a book only emerges once you actually start drafting. You can design the most elegant plot in the world, but ten thousand words in, it invariably unravels because you realize, 'This character simply wouldn't do that.' My current process is to push through the first draft as quickly as humanly possible. Rewriting with the complete picture in front of you is infinitely faster than freezing up and obsessing over where to take the narrative next."

Lecture 4: Helsinki Noir

Speakers

Moderator

Discussion Highlights

*Please note that these highlights are a broad summary of the main points.

Q (Moderator): When you are writing, do you need to like your own characters?

Satu: "I deeply love my characters. For me, writing is very much like the process of getting to know someone in real life. When you meet someone new who might become a friend, you learn about each other bit by bit, don't you? Throughout the drafting process, every time I sit down with my characters, a new side of them reveals itself. The moment I feel, 'Now I understand the complete picture of this person,' I immediately become bored. That's why I keep moving them just a little at a time to keep the relationship fresh, constantly pursuing them and making new discoveries along the way."
　
　 　

Lecture 5: Debut Prize Panel

Speakers

Moderator

Discussion Highlights

*Please note that these highlights are a broad summary of the main points.

Q (Moderator): I was fascinated by how many of you explore narratives seen through the eyes of children and young people. What drew you to young, vulnerable protagonists, and what made you want to write about them?

Kirsty: "Looking back on when I was nineteen, I truly believed I was fully grown. Now, looking back from my mid-thirties, that precariousness sends a chill down my spine. In the case of my protagonist—a nineteen-year-old girl—that peril is amplified because she grew up in a sheltered environment without the benefit of learning from other women or adults. It's precisely what creates that vulnerability, and in crime fiction, tragedy often stems from there."
Linda: "The young girl in my story is entirely the same. She is vulnerable because she was overprotected, but because she feels different from everyone around her, she is constantly searching for something—without any idea how to find it. Writing her was exhilarating, because as an author, I felt as though I was embarking on that journey of discovering the world right alongside her."
Zoë: "One of the central themes I wanted to highlight was how childhood shapes the adults we become. More importantly, however, is the idea that 'childhood' isn't an objective set of facts; it's merely a subjective perspective—a matter of how we interpreted and remembered things at the time. Readers witness the choices and actions the protagonist takes as an adult, all grounded in how she remembers her youth. At the same time, readers witness that childhood through her young eyes: the perspective of an innocent, naive child knowing nothing beyond the four walls of a remote cabin in the New Zealand bush, with a very limited understanding of the world."
Frances: "Crime fiction holds up a mirror to the world, and everyone naturally worries about children. The fear that something terrible might happen to a child is a primal anxiety shared across every culture and society. But truthfully, the main reason I chose Janey as my protagonist was because I wanted to make her a punk rocker! You can't really have a 45-year-old woman bouncing around her bedroom to The Skids, can you? Still, children undeniably possess a fragility, and crime fiction reflects those deep-seated human fears."

Lecture 6: History in the Making

Speakers

Moderator

Discussion Highlights

*Please note that these highlights are a broad summary of the main points.

Q (Moderator): I'd like to begin with this question: Why historical fiction? What draws you to it, and what compels you to write it?

D.V. Bishop: "What I love about historical fiction is the ability to write about the past and highlight the contrasts between then and now, while simultaneously weaving in contemporary themes and issues that resonate deeply with modern readers. Readers can engage with the story and realize, 'Ah, nothing has changed at all.' And yet, after more than 500 years, fundamentally everything has changed as well. In that sense, it offers an incredible opportunity to transport readers back in time. Great historical fiction functions just like a time machine. It puts readers on board, carries them back to that specific era and place, and makes them feel as though they are standing right beside the characters, experiencing it all alongside them."
A.E. Goldin: "For me, writing historical fiction represents the ultimate form of escapism. It allows me to step outside not only my own life, but my own 'world' entirely. From a writer's standpoint, immersing oneself in the research process, building that world, and completely losing oneself in it is profoundly exhilarating. Stepping beyond your own reality to offer both yourself and your readers the chance to experience something entirely fresh and new—evoking a time and place that no longer exists—is a truly exceptional creative experience. I don't believe any other genre can quite replicate that exact feeling."

Q (Moderator): When it comes to historical fiction, writers vary considerably in how strictly faithful they feel they must be to historical fact. I often frame this tension as 'authenticity versus accuracy.' Does one prioritize capturing the genuine 'feel' of the period, or must one obsess over the fact that because an event historically occurred on a Saturday, it must strictly be depicted on a Saturday?

A.E. Goldin: "I think that is precisely the most challenging aspect of writing historical fiction. It's all about striking that delicate balance between staying faithful to the era and location without making the reader feel as though they are plodding through a dry documentary. At the end of the day, we are writing a novel; we want to tell a story with narrative momentum and a compelling structural arc. Perfectly precise history doesn't always conveniently conform to such dramatic demands. As a writer, I constantly ask myself: if I take liberties and bend historical facts, is it an egregious distortion? Will it shatter the reader's immersion? The rule of thumb I use to justify it to myself is this: even if a character takes an action that someone of that era strictly might not have done, can it be justified through their personality? Does it make sense within the context of their personal arc and journey? I've found that if it rings true on the level of character, even the most pedantic sticklers for historical accuracy are surprisingly forgiving."
Cressida Downing: "My rule of thumb is whether something is 'possible,' even if it isn't necessarily 'probable.' For every single historical choice and detail in my work, I can point to period records and scholarship to justify it—even if the likelihood of all those elements aligning simultaneously in real life was vanishingly small. Doing the research sparks far better ideas than simply sitting around racking your brains. Hilary Mantel [one of contemporary British literature’s most acclaimed historical novelists, essayists, and critics, and two-time Booker Prize winner (2009, 2012) for her Wolf Hall trilogy depicting the life of Thomas Cromwell] once put it brilliantly: rather than fighting against the facts and constraints, use them to build your narrative. It's having that very framework that makes the process so fascinating."
D.V. Bishop: "I lean very much toward Hilary Mantel's philosophy as well. I make every effort to avoid altering historical facts simply to make my writing easier. In her brilliant Reith Lecture titled Can These Bones Live?, she strongly urged historical novelists not to tidy up or alter history merely for their own convenience, and that is precisely the standard I strive to uphold. Yet, like virtually every historical mystery writer, I invariably end up writing an author's note at the end of the book confessing: 'Strictly speaking, this couldn't have happened on a Tuesday, because...' When I wrote a book centered on the historical attempted assassination of a Medici Duke of Florence, historians themselves couldn't agree on whether the event took place on a Friday night or a Saturday night. So I simply went with the majority consensus and had it happen on Saturday!"
Cressida Downing: "I'd love to bring up the 'Tiffany Problem' here. The Tiffany Problem refers to the fact that while 'Tiffany' was a genuine, historically documented name widely used in the Middle Ages, incorporating it into modern historical fiction often makes readers think, 'Has the author lost their mind?' simply because it sounds too modern to their ears. In other words, a historical novelist has to write what is historically authentic while also catering to the sensibilities of readers who would protest, 'That's completely impossible!' After all, by the time you've spent four pages in an endnote explaining why you were technically right, the reader has already chucked the book across the room!"
　
　

Lecture 7: Straight to the Heart

Speakers

Moderator

Discussion Highlights

*Please note that these highlights are a broad summary of the main points.

Q (Moderator): Why the police procedural? There are countless ways to write crime fiction, so what made you decide to place the police at the very center of your stories?

Simon: "When I write a police procedural, I try to simplify things as much as possible. I strip the procedural roles down to their bare essentials: you have the boss, someone beneath them, the rookie, the IT person, and so on. For me, the police procedural isn't really about police procedure or even the institution itself—it's about capturing the dynamics that emerge among a specific group of individuals."

Q (Moderator): Simon, your book opens with an anti-immigration rally that ends in tragedy. Is the ability to speak directly to our present moment one of the great appeals of crime fiction?

Simon: "I think that's true. But it wasn't something I deliberately set out to do—it was more of a happy accident. When you write crime fiction, social issues tend to rise to the surface of the story almost immediately; you just can't avoid them."

Q (Moderator): Both Sarah and Patricia reflect the zeitgeist in their own ways as well.

Patricia: "In my case, it's often accidental too. So many events happening across our countries and towns leave an impression on me, and sometimes I don't even realize the depth of that impact until I sit down and start writing. I believe that all of these societal currents—both within our countries and inside ourselves—naturally find their way onto the page through the creative process. It's never about pushing an agenda; it's simply what I was feeling at the time and felt compelled to write."

Q (Moderator): Sarah, one of the remarkable aspects of your new book is how you portray the weight of the past—how heavily it still hangs over the people in that community. Could you talk a bit about that?

Sarah: "I'm fascinated by that theme across fiction in general, but it's especially pronounced in crime writing. That's why I write in multiple layers and secrets. What draws me to crime fiction is the aftermath—the ripple effects of a crime and how it shapes the lives left behind. It's often less about the grisly crime itself and more about the ongoing process of how it continues to affect people. Even children carry an awareness of the past. The same applies to family histories: when we reflect on our regrets and the things that haunt us, the past can exert an enormous pull over our lives. The things that torment us, the regrets, the things we wish we could undo, the things we cannot forget, the grief we carry, and how all of that alters our behavior; who we become in extreme situations, those who find the strength to be heroic and those who cannot—I find all of it utterly fascinating."
Sarah: "I eventually discovered that I have a rather interesting family history of my own. All the foundations of my storytelling came from my grandmother. When I was young, she would tell my siblings and me stories about my mother: how nuns taught her to read and write using sticks in the sand, and how she didn't wear shoes until she was six years old. Listening to those tales, I remember thinking, 'Wow, Mum was at some crazy holiday camp when she was a kid.' As we grew older, my grandmother layered in more details appropriate for our age. I still remember the day it hit me that what she had actually been describing was how she, my grandfather, and my mother had been held in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp during the Second World War. Yet she opened the door to that narrative in such a remarkable way. Instead of sitting down young children and saying, 'Let me tell you about your mother's harrowing trauma,' she told it through stories filled with moments of joy and stolen happiness. I have always been captivated by that kind of power in the past. History isn't purely bleak; it holds a multitude of stories. Crime fiction shouldn't just be dark, either. If a story is shrouded in darkness, light must exist there as well—because that is what life is. Life is never just one tone."

Today's Haul

Samplers