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Start Here: Introductions & Inspirations
Welcome to The Gilded Ink Parlor — I’m so glad you’ve stepped inside. This is our shared sanctuary for stories, creativity, curiosity, and the strange little sparks that keep us writing, reading, and dreaming. Let’s begin gently. If you feel comfortable, introduce yourself in the comments: ✨ Your name (or pen name) ✨ What kind of writing you do — poetry, fiction, journaling, essays, anything at all ✨ Or, if you don’t write, what you love to read ✨ And: what inspired you to step into this community? There’s no pressure to be polished here. Come as you are — messy drafts, bold ideas, soft questions and all. Whether you’re a writer, a reader, or someone who simply loves beautiful language, you belong in this room. Pull up a chair. Light settles. We’re listening.
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🌙 Welcome to the Writing Sanctuary
A free community space for creative connection, expression, and growth. This corner of the internet is for writers, poets, storytellers, and anyone who uses language to understand themselves. You don’t need a course enrollment. You don’t need experience. You just need a voice — and you already have one. This is your open, free-access community for: ✨ sharing your writing ✨ connecting with other creatives ✨ participating in discussions ✨ joining monthly open readings ✨ finding encouragement and inspiration ✨ staying informed about upcoming workshops & opportunities If you’re here, you belong here. --- 📚 What Free Members Can Do 1. Share Your Writing Poems, short prose, drafts, fragments — whether raw or polished. Your voice is welcome. 2. Join the Monthly Open Reading A free community event where you can read your work aloud or simply listen. This is a judgment-free, supportive space to speak or witness. 3. Participate in Community Discussions Talk craft, share thoughts, ask writing questions, explore metaphors, or start a thread for inspiration. 4. Access Monthly Writing Prompts Fresh prompts posted for all members to spark creativity. 5. Celebrate Wins + Share Milestones Published something? Wrote something? Had an idea spark at 2AM? Tell us. We love celebrating with you. 6. Submit Work for Community Spotlight Your piece may be chosen for our free Poem of the Week highlight — a moment of recognition and celebration. --- 🔒 What’s Available in the Paid Tier (You can mention these briefly without pressure or sales tone.) The paid tier unlocks: • access to the Metaphor as Mirror course • private submission channel for personal feedback directly from me • exclusive lessons, resources, and advanced prompts These features are optional — the free community stands fully on its own. --- 🌿 Community Guidelines (for everyone) 1. Be Kind — Always Writers share from tender places. Respond with empathy. 2. Consent-Based Feedback Only Use + respect these tags on posts:
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⭐ How to Give Feedback in This Community
A gentle guide for reflection, not critique. In Community Share, we treat feedback as a mirror—not a red pen. This community is built on care, curiosity, and creative courage, so here’s how we hold each other’s work with intention. --- 💛 Before Anything Else: Consent Matters Not everyone wants feedback every time they share. When you post your writing, please use one of these tags: • [Reflection Only] — no feedback, just space to be witnessed • [Gentle Feedback Welcome] — light reflections only • [Open to Feedback] — questions + deeper reflections allowed And when responding to someone else? Always check their tag first. Never assume. --- ✨ Our Community Feedback Principles 1. Celebrate the Spark Start by naming what moved you. What line echoed? What image stayed with you? Example: “This line felt like stepping into a storm—soft but electric.” 2. Ask, Don’t Assume We use questions instead of directives. Example: “I’m wondering what would happen if you let this image stand alone?” 3. Speak to Emotion, Not Technique Your job isn’t to “fix” a poem. It’s to reflect what it made you feel. 4. No Editing Someone’s Voice We’re not rewriting people’s work here. We’re witnessing it. 5. Response Over Revision Tell them what resonated, what you pictured, what stayed with you. --- 📝 How I Give Feedback (as your facilitator) If you request feedback directly, I’ll offer: • reflections on metaphor usage • emotional resonance • your strongest images • gentle questions to deepen the work No grammar critiques. No rewriting your poem. Just clarity, compassion, and craft awareness. You may also submit work privately for light feedback or for consideration in our Featured Poem of the Week. --- 🌿 This Community Is Built on Care You never need to share. You never need to edit. Being witnessed is enough. Your voice is welcome here—raw, tender, unpolished, powerful. If we treat each other’s writing with the same tenderness we wish for our own, this space will thrive.
908 Island Drive
The windows weren’t sealed quite right. The curtains would twist and tangle with each other at any blow of September wind. The floors were uneven and creaked phantom moans. Sunlight would bleed through the poorly sealed windows, casting shadows across the uneven floor, begging for brokenness to be whole.
Paradise, Short Story
This is a short piece I wrote about a week ago. I hope you like it ----- It was a hot day, I remembered. It was the kind of day where, in its memory, it never seems as unbearably awful as when it was experienced. The waters of the coast swelled and fell over each other. They sent up a spray that would caress your face. The sand had more of the consistency of mud, which I didn’t mind. Millie did, though. “Why must we come down here?” It would cake up on her legs, and if she sat on her beach towel, the sand would stick to it, too. It would take three washes just to get it off. She didn’t like that, which meant she rarely came with me. The times she did come were always my favorites. We would sit there, listening to the waves and watching the sun turn the horizon to the color of a citrus fruit. Millie did like that. “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” “It is.” Sometimes she would ask me when I was going to marry her. I told her I didn’t know. Then she would get really quiet. The day that I remember best was a Tuesday. The tide was in. It came up just a few inches short of where I was sitting. The horizon was that citrus-fruit-color, and I was lying out in the sand, counting the leaves of a palm frond that hung twenty feet above my head. I do not remember exactly how many, but I remember that it was close to a hundred. Millie was with me. She was standing idly in the water about waist-deep. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. White clouds meandered above the beach like they had nothing to do. “When are you going to marry me?” she called from the water. I sat up, looking at her. She had a wonderful look in her eye that made me feel like all the beauty around me was void. I shrugged, smiling. “Why not today?” Millie lit up then. I don’t think I had ever seen a person so alive. It was frightening and perfect. Just then, the beach became, for an hour or so, a place like no other. It became a paradise.
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