Write and Reed’s

August 23 @ 9:00 am - 11:00 am EDT

Write and Reed’s

August 30 @ 9:00 am - 11:00 am EDT

Picture Day Partay!

September 15 @ 6:00 pm - 9:00 pm EDT

October Meetup

October 20 @ 6:00 pm - 9:00 pm EDT



In 2023, Carteret Writers will be celebrating forty years of building community among Eastern North Carolina writers and readers. During that time, you’ve put in a lot of miles to attend open mic readings and to connect with fellow storytellers, poets, and literature lovers. You’ve learned to make Zoom work for critique groups when in-person wasn’t possible. When the days seemed darkest, you continued to encourage one another to pursue your writing goals. Through it all, you’ve generously shared your experience, enthusiasm, and expertise to help other writers grow.

Thank you, members, for making us possible.

Not a member yet? What are you waiting for? Come on in. The water’s fine.

Become a Member


Your new board members have high hopes and big ideas for celebrating our upcoming Carteret Writers Quadrennial including:

  • Workshops, seminars, and a local conference to encourage growth

  • Social events to cultivate community and connect writers

  • A new blog to show off our members’ stories and insights

Plus, you’ll still be getting all of the Carteret Writers membership perks you’ve always had including:

  • Two monthly newsletters to get caught up on member achievements and writerly opportunities

  • Support for launching new critique groups or finding new members for an existing group

  • Promotion of your published writings to build your writer platform

  • A complimentary copy of Shoal, a professionally-produced journal featuring our annual contest winners

Local writers mingling at August 2022 meet and greet and open mic.


From 1983 to 2023. Like, totally rad.

Summer Doldrums Challenge Golden Lines

Blu reached for my cold hand and took it in both of her hands as if it were an injured bird or a fragile piece of glass.

Joyce Allan, Member

If only I could remember. Someone was singing or was it a play and I was part of the audience? Caliban had this problem too, except I don’t cry to dream again, but rather break my wand on Prospero’s pate and sate my delight with silly rhymes. Zhuangzi’s butterfly is my muse while I amuse the dreamer who will never wake until I am stuffed half way upon the black bird’s craw. Caw, Caw. Oh could I remember who I was and wanted once again to be but will never and so to be. Buzz away my sorrow.

Geoffrey Sottong, Member

“I’m not sure how much longer I have on this earth. They say that youth is wasted on the young. I am not sure what is wasted on the old. Wisdom would be my guess. I survived all these years, garnered all this wisdom, and for what? To just wither away?”

Shannon Aiken, Member

We’re all helpless without fire. It’s what keeps us alive keeps us burning, making our mark in the world.

Cora Kaufman, Guest

But had that happened, would I have looked beyond the familiar and tried something new?

Jennifer Heironimus, Member

You would think that after not blogging for a year and a half that I’d be pouring forth with words to write but writing has been tough for me over the past few years, really since the pandemic.

Charlotte Kaufman, Guest

Before today, all my days were an illusion,
I have no recollection of their pain,
No twists and turns, I feel anew,
Was that street even there yesterday?

I’ve lived in other people’s stories,
Blind to my potential,
The veil revealed my sunny street,
Or was my aptitude so blinding?

Ana Maria Macra, Guest

There I was – driving sixty miles per hour in a dark, narrow tunnel, fifty feet under water, miles from shore – and with one of my contact lenses laying somewhere in my lap.

Jessica Waugh, Member

The boy, whom I named Shellorba in English, comes from a planet so far on the other side of the Universe our planet doesn’t even know it exists.

Sarah Maury Swan, Member

Oh if only her seeing eye had been this good when she was younger! She could have lived a much better life. She wouldn’t have taken all those wrong turns. As it was, she had spent a good portion of her life turning around, backtracking after those wrong turns. And now? Now she could see how things would turn out but she had fewer twists and turns in her road. Does it matter if you make a wrong turn when it’s all  cul de sacs ahead?

Melissa Kelley, Member

Wasting away on the poison of certainty is not what life is all about.

Kathryn Jackson, Guest

Beyond it was a rather faded couch and an equally faded woman.

Trish Sheppard, Member

We hugged, we stared into each other’s eyes and soaked in the sights.

Allison Daniel, Member

Most people say it would be when they met someone and had children. Family life is good, even if it might turn out bad. But a single event that changes a life would be when the purpose the person is alive is realized.

Stanley Trice, Member

The ring on her little finger had my name engraved on it. I found it a bit ominous.

Thomas Kies, Member

Two steps down a response appeared, wisdom is wasted on the old.

Rose Culbreth, Member

I’ve had dreams that seemed so real that upon waking I wondered if the events had happened or if they were remnants of a movie. I’d dozed off watching earlier in the night. But my dreams had a purpose a few years ago. One day I decided to write a novel. Countless times while I was composing it, I’d find myself with a cliff hanger on the paper, but no resolution in sight.

Erika Vogel Hoffman, Member

But I’m angry and want to place responsibility for my feelings on anyone other than myself, so I’m sprinkling blame on everyone like sprinkles on a cupcake. And I hope they choke on it.

Vicky Mitchell, Guest


Volunteer to help organize our upcoming Carteret Writers Quadrennial Celebration events and/or donate $40 for our Fortieth Anniversary, and we’ll invest in guest speakers, events, and anniversary opulence the likes of which haven’t been seen since 1983.