Wood Shed Writers

The Wood Shed Writers are a collective of writers from many professions and generations, united by a shared passion for creative expression. Based in the Greater Pittsburgh Area, they’ve gathered weekly for years to share their work, offer feedback, and build a space rooted in trust, craft, and laughter.

What began as a private circle of storytelling has grown into something more: a long-held dream to bring their voices to the public. Thus, The Wood Shed Writers publication was born.

Wood Shed Writers, Greater Pittsburgh Area | est. 2024

  • STANDING

    Written By

    Blair

    She stands insideThe doorwayArms outstretchedBack aching to archOne stepAnotherShe standsWithin the doorwayHer hands against the frameArms flexedAnticipates the birdWhose outstretched wingsPush back the skyAnd allow… more ›

  • FLYING HOME

    Written By

    Blair

    Hollow boned necks crane.Beaks preen, wings stretch, talons clench,Knees flex backward.They do not fly.Squirrels chatter a glottal warning:The sky is full of monsters.They must wait… more ›

  • A List of Things that Look Like Bones When You Are Walking in the Forest Alone

    Written By

    Meghan Snatchko

    Queen Anne’s Lace.  Grown in odd groups. Five, seven-never two.The clumps and the spaces between.The Voids separate and merge together with the wind  to form… more ›

  • Hot Pillows and Cold Potatoes

    Written By

    Meghan Snatchko

    Over the hills and through the woods to grandmother’s house we go.“Hey Fred, look out at the hills along the side of the road and… more ›

  • PROLOGUE

    Written By

    Blair

    more ›

  • Shimmer

    Written By

    Jeremy C.

    Have you ever had one of those days when you woke up in a noir? When you woke up to see a tattooed hunter stalking… more ›

  • Soul Tone

    Written By

    Jeremy C.

    this poem is about the kitchen, it’s about an ancient, seasoned, cast iron skillet so black, so deep, one should hesitate  before staring into it,… more ›

  • Where it all began and ended

    Written By

    Erin H

    (A tribute to my father) The slightest smell of evaporated milk takes me back to a favorite childhood memory; I can feel a faint smile… more ›

  • Delusions are lies that tell the truth

    Written By

    Susan I

    Earl watched the smoke dissipate around the bare light bulb. “It’s only when you can be totally open that nothin’ will hurt you,” he said. … more ›

  • Sacked

    Written By

    Holly T

    It is 4:15 p.m.  Dinnertime.   The crowd roars on the TV in the living room area adjacent to the dining room.  The Steelers have scored… more ›