Monday, July 26, 2010

Self-Publish? Agent? Small Press? Where will your writing fit?

Join me THIS sunday, august 1 for a writers workshop focused on Publishing!

In addition to the hunger many people have to publish their collection of poems, or write their first novel, they simply do not know where to start once the manuscript takes shape. It is daunting for writers and poets to consider the overwhelming world of publication options. Can you self-publish? Should you get an agent? What is the benefit of working with small presses?

To help answer these questions and offer publishing inspiration to Tacoma's writers and poets, I will be offering a class called, Indie Lit Chicks on Publishing: A Writers Workshop on Sunday, Aug. 1 from 2-4:30 p.m. for only $10 at Urban Grace Church. RSVP me directly:

Joining me to co-teach and host a Q&A session on topics such as self-publication, literary agents, funding, marketing and independent press publication will be two guest authors, Gina Frangello and Zoe Zolbrod. The authors will also read from their latest novels and books will be available for purchase and signing.


Friday, July 23, 2010

Can Poetry Save the World? by TLR

Here is a very special editorial feature I wrote about Richard Gold's non profit Pongo Poetry Project helping troubled teens in Tacoma for City Arts Magazine:

Is Writing a Book on Your Bucket List? Aug. 1

Many of us have a deep desire to write a book before we die.

Perhaps you have always wanted to write a book but don't know where to start. Or maybe you have chapters for a novel or a drawer full of poetry, and you just don't know what to do with them? Take your first step toward making a dream come true and attend my Poet Laureate workshop--open to poets & writers of all styles:

Indie Lit Chicks on Publishing: A Writers Workshop
on August 1, Sunday at 2-4:30 pm!
at Urban Grace Church, Tacoma, WA
Cost: $10 suggested donation.
Email Your Name to RSVP:

Join three published women writers and editors to get helpful publication information, encouragement, support, creative ideas and inspiration to write your own book this year! Come enjoy a rich, helpful lecture on how to publish your work by three women who were told no many times or rejected, but did it by themselves anyway! Enjoy a discussion, author lecture, author and poet readings, book signings and more. You will be an active part of the intensive Q&A we will be hosting about courage, commitment, funding, nuts & bolts, and creative marketing with writers just like you who started off with only a dream. You Can Do It!

Teachers & Guests include:
Tammy Robacker, Co-editor of In Tahoma's Shadow (2009), freelance editorial writer, 2010 Tacoma Poet Laureate and published poet, The Vicissitudes (2009);
Zoe Zolbrod, Zine creator and author of newly released novel: Currency (2010);
Gina Frangello, small press editor and published author of newly released: The Slut Lullabies;

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Tacoma Weekly News Article on my Poetry Workshop: 7/18

Great article on my workshop this sunday and a bit about co-teachers & guests Kisha Xiomara Palmer, Josh Rizeberg and Quincy Q Dot Henry in the Tacoma Weekly today!

Still room for more students! Email me your RSVP :)

Read all about it:

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Badlands by Way of Bus, 1983

This is a poem based on one of the many teenage memories i have of being shuttled back and forth the US by greyhound bus. We rode for 3000 mile, 4 day treks across the states after my parents got divorced and chose to live on opposite coasts. I have not been able to shake, for decades, the sad impression south dakota and generally many parts of middle america left upon me. The people and the places seen from a bus window. A grievousness threaded through those unending, arid, desolate areas that i could not ignore or shrug off. It seemed to overcome me... and the heat-- suffocating! To be sure, the sad world of it mirrored the room of my own heavy heart.

Badlands by Way of Bus, 1983

The summer my mother sent me back east
to let my father handle things
I saw South Dakota streak itself
into one hot, monotonous painted nude.

There, linear beige landscape edges
blurred and drowsed in the browning
noontime heat. The whole busload of us
lumbering in and out of restless sleep
across that flat bleary expanse
of ochre prairie
and acres of lashing grass.

It overcame me, all that impossibility
and lifelessness; dead from trying
as far as the eye could see
save the apparition of austere green mileposts.
They existed as the only place of interest
once my Sony Walkman batteries quit.
The steel rectangular markers
racked up points of desperation.
Always approaching
then leaving. Counting off failure
and lost hope in whole numbers
to me and the other passengers:
you are going somewhere;
you are going nowhere.
I watched them grow in size
to infinity—
Until they didn’t count at all.

Miles later
an oval-shaped, peach sign face
broke the monotony
as we lurched into Rapid City.
Up ahead, it waved to me—
as if making a promise
above the baking pavement heat
until I realized
it was just another gritty teenage girl
like me. A runaway, I guessed,
strapped down with a crappy knapsack.
In a t-shirt with no bra,
and jeans that had been drawn upon
with magic marker—her thighs covered
in peace symbols, butterflies and hearts.

I would runaway from here too,
if I were smart, I thought, as I watched
the gust from our stopping bus
blow dust and lift her
cornsilk hair high up
in mermaid waves.
I heard the word, Caliente
hiss like compression brakes
from the Montana farmhand
who carried a duct-taped cardboard box
as luggage. He clucked his tongue
from the back of the bus
having been waiting
to read a sign like this
since clear back in Bozeman.

--Tammy Robacker