Your Turn to Hold the Torch

This newsletter isn’t a broadcast.
It’s a campfire.
You’re here because you know the difference.

If you want to keep the flames alive—to widen the circle of light—here’s how:

1. Share the Fire
Use your referral link below. Send it to someone who:

Hoards subway conversations like stolen gems
Replays small talk like it’s a riddle
Needs permission to see their own life as mythology

For every soul who subscribes through your link, you’ll get closer to these rewards:

At 3 Referrals:
A Story With Your Fingerprints On It
Tell me one moment you can’t forget: the way your mother sighed before she hung up, the stranger’s tattoo that looked like your childhood dog, the lie you still taste.
I’ll write you a letter dissecting why it sticks. Not an essay. A story. A fever dream in your voice.

At 5 Referrals:
Story Surgery (No Anesthesia)
Bring me your half-dead idea, your abandoned essay, the thing you’re too afraid to write. We’ll gut it on a 20-minute Zoom call. I won’t be gentle. You’ll leave bloody and grinning.

At 25 Referrals:
My Unwritten Bones + Your City’s Coffee Stains
You’ll get:

The first 40 pages of my novel, unedited, with my handwritten rage/joy scribbled in the margins

A promise: Next time I’m in your city (and I travel like a feral ghost), we’ll sit in the loudest café and talk about the story you’ve been avoiding.
I’ll bring the espresso. You bring the reckoning.

View the leaderboard

Why This Isn’t a “Program”
Because referrals aren’t metrics. They’re the modern version of passing a folktale mouth-to-mouth.

Every new subscriber is another voice saying, “I’ve felt that too.”

From Doja

Refer a friend

P.S. For every 25 referrals, I’ll also slip a handwritten note into your mailbox—something cryptic and true, like “The tortoise’s shell cracks louder in winter” or “Thank you for keeping my father’s stories alive.” Burn it. Frame it. Bury it under a rock. But it’ll exist.