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Since we launched this project and started signalboosting writers, we’ve felt a blissful amnesia over the literary forces we once reacted to. To be sure, we sometimes unwittingly wander back into the realm of blue checkmarks and corporate aesthetics—like opening a cupboard upon a forgotten miniature universe that feels as irrelevant as it does ineradicable. But with atomization and the long tail of distribution, we no longer have to make things that appeal to our next-door neighbor or local arts council. We can overcome careerism and the canon. We can maintain a deregulated highway that, unlike an MFA chopshop or société of interns, isn’t just a pipeline to selling film rights to Hollywood. And even if we can’t solve the problems of money and cliquism—let alone ideology—we can provide this small refugia for writers to sculpt eternity.
We encourage writers to imbue their works with all their quixotic heresies rather than dilute their voices through signaling all day on Twitter and Instagram. We welcome pseudonymous submissions from burner emails—whether the writer wants to secure a fair reading or create a persona for daring works.