Image of trees in a sunset by Pixabay photographer yoshitaka2

“I have hope, even if it’s hideous,” Kelly Brice Baron’s speaker tells us in “Domestic Hypnosis.” It’s this hideous hope that binds together the people and places, the stories and sorrows of this 30th issue of Waccamaw. Hope in our time forces us to ask hard questions. Our contributors ask us to consider the role of identity in work, occupation, and displacement—what does it mean to be a blue-collar worker, a recent college grad, or a new mom in a world that has become increasingly apathetic to the worker, the migrant, and the refugee? To seek answers, our writers move through stretches of Tennessee plains, London, West Africa, and even an oil painting, where they question tradition and see visions of stark trees and landscapes, places grounded in truth. They prompt us to reflect inward, appreciate the stillness, cherish our loved ones, and find solace in inevitable changes. In this issue of Waccamaw, we hope you find slivers of joy and hideous hope in gritty, feet-on-the-ground living.

Issue 30

S.C. Creative Sociology Writing Competition

The 2025 S.C. Creative Sociology Writing Competition received 36 entries of short-fiction, poetry, and creative non-fiction from students at universities and colleges across the state. Students were encouraged to combine The Sociological Imagination with the craft of creative writing to explore the theme: Family Matters.

Domestic Hypnosis

POETRY
To run out for smokes and never return: a tale as old as time. I’ve run out for milk and abandoned it all, left the laundry to perfume the air with mold.

Plagued by Productivity

NONFICTION
Wedged in the middle seat with an hour of the flight remaining, I’ve finished reading my book and am too unfocused to work. Opening my laptop seems futile. I have neither the elbow room nor the brain space to properly produce.

Freetown

FICTION
We killed Duna on a Sunday evening. It was one of those quiet nights where the silence in Freetown was punctuated only by the occasional sounds of pestles hitting mortars and war veterans hitting their wives.

The Future Is Here

FICTION
MARCH 1989: Infectious Diseases Ward, St Thomas’ Hospital, London South Bank
I don’t belong here. I’m the only woman, apart from the receptionist, and everyone else must know I’m healthy, not even at risk. Do they resent me being here?

Intrusive Thoughts on Motherhood

NONFICTION
Put her down for a nap / she fights each one / ask Google why she’s fighting naps if she’s tired / Google is tired of answering me / she likes it when I sing a lullaby / you are my sunshine / my only sunshine / repeat, repeat, repeat

A Stark Landscape Rendered In Oil

POETRY
Was it you who figured the artist
as a kind of moody scientist, desk
a clean laboratory, gloved fingers
dissecting crisis like an animal?

Working Artist

POETRY
The trees on the walk home
from my office job are stumps.
All day, outside the window,
I listen to construction workers
cut pines from the top down

A Field in Winter

POETRY
I am white with forgetting.
The wind takes my name
and runs it ragged
against the mouths of trees

Editorial Team
Managing Editor: Taylor Castelot
Poetry Editor: Maya Dally
Assistant Poetry Editor: Kylie Harris
Assistant Poetry Editor: Brianna Rau
Assistant Fiction Editor: Jayme Carlson
Assistant Fiction Editor: Justin O’Neal
Assistant Nonfiction Editor: Sarah Henning
Assistant Copy Editor: Audra Bergevin
Assistant Copy Editor: Cameron Tyner

Faculty Editors
Editor-in-Chief: Colin Foote Burch
Digital Content Coordinator: Alli Crandell
Copyeditor: Rose Pleasant
Poetry Editor: Erin Slaughter
Fiction Editor: Joshua Cross
Nonfiction Editor: Lane Osborne
Assistant Nonfiction Editor: Sara Sobota

S.C. Creative Sociology Writing Competition
Contest Organizer: Lisa Winters, PhD
Lead Editor: Joshua Cross, PhD
Judge: Amber Wheeler Bacon
Judge: Derrick Bracey
Judge: Matt Wilkinson
Judge: Ami Stearns

Background photo by yoshitaka2 via Pixabay