Coming off the tail end of pnumonia, I trudged up Pompey's Knob to attend Tablerock Writers at Wildacres again this year. It's hard to call it a workshop frankly. Our poetry leader, the inimitable Phillip Shabazz, doesn't give "homework" while we're there -- he calls it "homefun" and that rings perfectly. You'll not find a better collection of good, solid writers and readers to help move your work along. I wrote some new stuff, workshopped some that I brought, and just generally had an ideal writerly break in a setting ideally suited.
Wildacres is a happy place for me, and I think for everyone. The only complaint anyone ever has is with the matresses. Ah. Well, it's always something, right? Me, I slept fine with windows open and in a room with a happy roomate who was zonked out enough to not be disturbed by the last vestiges of my sick.
All hail Tablerock and The Free State of Shabazz.