Documents of Tabat: An Instructive and Useful Listing of the Chal Shops of Tabat

Have you ever had a ridiculously lofty desire buried so deep in your psyche that you’ve never mentioned it to anyone?  That’s what the Wayward Wormhole is for me.

Immersing myself into a world of writers where everyone is as obsessed, driven, and crazy about language and story for weeks at a time is my ultimate happy place. That passionate kiss of at a three-day conference only stoked my desire for more. I applied to some of the greats: Clarion and Odyssey and vowed to apply to Viable Paradise and Launch Pad as schedule and finances permit, but I’ve yet to receive an acceptance from any of them. Is that a reflection of my writing? Maybe…but they’re all incredibly popular and competitive. The sheer talent from the other applicants is intimidating. I’m not a natural. I’m a writer who makes all the usual mistakes and has to fight my way up the rejection ladder. On the flip side, I love learning about writing, and I’m damn stubborn, so I’ll keep going as long as I’m having fun.

Tired of waiting for an acceptance and finding that I aged with every passing year, I started giving myself an education from the many instructors that graced the workshops I wanted to attend. That’s where Cat Rambo came in. Their Academy for Wayward Writers was the perfect training ground for my struggling career as a writer. They brought in Tobias Buckell, Michael Underwood, Sarah Pinsker, Ann Leckie, Kate Heartfield, and Jamie Lackey, not to mention all the classes put together by Cat themselves. And it was great.

But it still wasn’t the deep end I dreamed about. Then, one day all the time spent on Cat’s Patreon and Discord brought the opportunity of a lifetime—a month of November—an intensive workshop in Spain. Was anyone interested? I was. Did she have a location? No. So I looked for one. I found a castle (A CASTLE!).  The next step was financial viability—was a venture like this something that could at least pay for itself? Spreadsheet time. The numbers said it could. We wouldn’t get rich, but we could offer a new, high-level intensive writing workshop offering access to exceptional instructors, and bring together fellow writers who were as eager to help each other succeed as you are to helping them. That’s what it’s all about!

Cat received a good deal of flack over the location’s lack of accessibility, and that was my fault. To anyone who wanted to attend and couldn’t, I can only apologize and say we are committed to doing better with each upcoming workshop.

Spending last November with Cat Rambo, Ann Leckie, Sarah Pinsker, and Tobias Buckell, along with eleven excellent writers in their twenties, thirties, fifties, and up, from four different countries, gave my confidence a much-needed boost, and with that, my writing leaped forward. We’re kept the Ride or Die Writing Group together in 2024, and students are getting published!

Cat Rambo has an amazing array of friends in the SFF community. They’ve all experienced her kindness, generosity, and balanced sense of right and wrong.

We’re heading to New Mexico this November with Arley Sorg, Minister Faust, Donald Maass, C.C. Finlay, plus a slate of students eager to repeat the magic from last year.

I can’t believe this is my life. Maybe we’ll see you there one day!

(From the beginning of the novel I’m currently about halfway through)

It was Fish Day at Archie McPhee’s.

In another kind of store, Fish Day might have signaled a sale on salmon or fresh herring.
Here in the novelty store, against a backdrop of bins filled with rubber eyeballs and plastic beetles, it meant the appearance of the enormous Wheel of Fish.

The vast, obviously-handmade cardboard construction took up three square yards of space. The clerk kept knocking things off shelves as she maneuvered it among the aisles in order to let customers spin, leaving a trail of hula-shirted dashdboard dolls and a flock of pink plastic flamingoes scattered in her wake.

Each customer she managed to present it to spun, winning, in rapid succession, a rubber shark, a glow in the dark squid, and goldfish earrings.

Casey grinned, watching a teenager don the last item. This was what she loved about Archie McPhee. So wonderfully random.

Picking up a basket, she wandered the aisles, fingering band-aids printed with bacon, an action figure of ancient Greek philosopher Socrates, a golden mustache, an enormous plastic raven that squawked “Nevermore, Lenore” when you pressed a button. While she touched things, she sent her luck sense whispering out, tasting each object’s subtle flavor.

Enjoy this sample of Cat’s writing and want more of it on a weekly basis, along with insights into process, recipes, photos of Taco Cat, chances to ask Cat (or Taco) questions, discounts on and news of new classes, and more? Support her on Patreon.