Jun 22

Spread the word!

This new community is six weeks old and we have nearly 1,000 users from all over the country! Wow!

We need your help to build this civil community to the point it has unprecedented energy -- and feverish revision and creative risk-taking. You are the best ones to do this. Be a community builder. Here are some things you can do:

  • Spread the word. Let your circles of friends know about this space.
  • Get your friends to join!  Use the INVITE link under "ME" (logged-in users only) to send an invitation to a friend and earn userpoints (even more if they join).
  • Love pieces you like.
  • Better yet, post a REACTION to a post. Remember that the best way to get a reaction is to give a reaction.
  • Better still, SPROUT a post to a post you like. See the link "sprout" underneat the story? It allows you to post something that the current post made you think about. And forever are the two linked!
  • Share a post you like to your social media. (Click the blue "+" sign below the post.)
  • Follow YWP in our various social incarnations (links on the bottom of each page or: Like us on Facebook
  • and keep up with the latest news and events. Follow us on Twitter for great links to great posts. Follow us on Instagram for latest great photos (and a few funny candids). Those are a few...
  • And if you are on social media, SHARE our posts about best work, so ALL the writers gain more audience.

By the way, for those of you who were members of the old site, 1) you need a NEW account for this site and 2) you can access (but not create new content) on the old site: archive.youngwritersproject.org.

Over the next few weeks, we'll be rolling out more features -- labs, projects, courses -- but we hope you'll dive in on the CHALLENGES -- a NEW one every day. And check out slideshows and recent reactions for some different ways to navigate the site (both under READ).

This is a digital writing space so we encourage you to incorporate photos and sound, to create slideshows and digital stories or, even, to let the digital media lead the story. Please let us know what you think: What do you like? What confuses you? What do you wish we (you) could do on this site? How can we get more youths into this community? Send an email or message me (gg).

So what can you do on this site? Click read more...

Apr 11


         Glimmering in the dawn’s waking hours, dust dancers come to rest with the wind on the cardboard city, catching on the trails of pulled back packing tape below the new layer. Ridges and creases cast shadow scars across the faces of the boxes, rising and falling like heartbeats; white curtains caress the wind in gentle, cold breaths of morning. Black sharpie scrawls out your name. As I begin shifting within the large chair, my bones cringe, my skin separating from the weaving of my afghan. I pull it closer to my face, hiding away from the crinkled tower; vainly murmuring my reminder that even faded boxes will die.

Apr 10

Staircase of Dreams

Apr 10

Ya Dig?

The thing that really ticks me off is
spitting the word "broad" or
purring the word "chicks" or
wielding words like they're
stones and sticks.

It's not that it hurts, per se,
that the things you say,
though violent, like, hurt, right?

It just ticks me off that
your ignorance--
call it "broad" or "chicks" or "bimbo" or "ditz"--
makes me sound like an idiot.

Ya dig?

Apr 06

Lucky Leprechaun

I snuggle deep beneath my little moss blanket on my wooden bed deep inside of the hollow tree village. Mamma and Papa are amidst another heateed argument over the same old topic: humans. The citizens of Killarney betrayed us 50 years ago but my clan is so bitter it may as well have been 50 days ago! To be completely fair it was not the citizens of Killarney who betrayed us but their town leader, Mister Amos Flaherty who was cruel to us wee folk. Thats when everything changed for us.

Grammy sometimes tells me stories of how it used to be. She said that the folks would dance in the center of the town and we rode on their shoulders. The little children used to braid our hair. They treated us like one of their own. As she said, the people were in tears on the streets as we left. They loved us. She’d tell me stories whenever it rained, whenever I was ill or honestly whenever she could keep me in the tree for more than 10 minutes.