OPEN FILE 04
Results are confidential until you post them.
Tiny Game: Diagnose Your Literary Damage
Six answers. Six conditions. No referral to a specialist.
ARE MY RESULTS CONFIDENTIAL?
Until you tell someone.
This is not a personality test. That would require a personality. It is a small inspection of the things you say about literature, art, and yourself.
Which statement feels most like a personal attack? Choose one. Open the result. We cannot help you.
A. “I don’t care whether I ever get published.”
DIAGNOSIS: THE SUBMISSION MYSTIC. You have seventeen pieces under consideration, four password-reset emails, and a folder called FINAL_FINAL. Rejection is merely proof that the universe has noticed you. You will check again in six minutes.
B. “People can’t handle my honesty.”
DIAGNOSIS: THE FOOTNOTED EDGELORD. You confuse giving offense with having a thought. When someone disagrees, you announce that discourse has died, then write 2,000 words about its funeral.
C. “I’m above social media.”
DIAGNOSIS: THE INVISIBLE CELEBRITY. You despise attention but take its absence as an act of aggression. Your statement withdrawing from the internet has now reached its fourth anniversary and its nineteenth revision.
D. “We must support independent publishers.”
DIAGNOSIS: THE EXPOSURE PHILANTHROPIST. You own a $28 notebook and have explained to a poet that buying her $12 book would compromise the authenticity of the exchange. You have offered to share the link instead.
E. “Art has to be authentic.”
DIAGNOSIS: THE AUTHENTICITY INSPECTOR. You have used artificial intelligence to draft three furious posts explaining why artificial intelligence is destroying writing. Your online persona is a careful reconstruction of someone who doesn’t have one.
F. “I’m not like the people who read this magazine.”
DIAGNOSIS: THE PERFECT BROKEN ZINE READER. You are right about everybody else and especially right about yourself. Your contempt is exquisite. Thank you for visiting. We have counted you as engagement.
There is no cure. The magazine may be one of the symptoms.
LULU VEX
Lulu Vex runs games, dares, buttons, traps, and other tiny mechanisms designed to reveal your character against your will.
Push something. The magazine is poorly supervised.
PUSH THE WEIRD BUTTON
A small bureaucrat somewhere just stamped APPROVED FOR NONSENSE.