Raise your hand if you have ever heard of a zine. Hmmm, okay, yes, I see. Those in the front sure are excited! Dear reader hiding in the back corner, I see you avoiding eye contact. Don’t be shy now, if you haven’t heard of them there’s no need to flush pink. I’ll tell you what a zine is, so you can join the discussion. A zine is a short magazine that is self-published either by an individual or a group that is circulated either for a cost, bargain, or free of charge. A zine can contain original work or can be a collection of appropriated works which are then typically photocopied for physical distribution and consumption. Now reader, if you want a fancy dictionary definition of a zine, well here it is from Merriam-Webster: “a noncommercial often homemade or online publication usually devoted to specialized and often unconventional subject matter.” Now that you know what a zine is, you can scoot closer now, we don’t bite. We’re an inclusive community of zinesters. I too am new here as I only recently discovered zines since taking a Self-Publishing class this semester. But I do know that if you’re the kind of person who indulges in the weird, wacky, and wonderful then boy are you in for a treat! Also, if you’re not the most organized person, you’ll fit right in because zinesters are scatterbrains and perhaps to your surprise, this method of creative functioning works to their advantage because of how experimental the genre of zines is, so no stressing over perfection!
At its core, zine-making is experimental. When making a zine, you don’t have to follow a rubric, structure, or organizational pattern. You are free to not only choose what you create but how you create it, which I find is an artistic situation many scatterbrains like myself are psyched for. The patchy and changeable brainstorming process for zine-making differs significantly from the more formal process of academic writing. When crafting a paper, rolling around in the back of my mind are the brown spotted billiards balls of persuasion techniques, analytical details, arguments, semantics, diction, syntax, ugh and transitions. In the other mindset attuned for zine-making, it’s like a game of billiards but with the bouncy balls one cons out of those diner quarter machines. Ideas smash around, bounce off of each other, fuse together, and some just plain disappear into the deep pockets of forgetfulness, and that’s okay because this is all part of the creative process of zine-making.
Now, I would like to discuss my brief experience with making zines. I was tasked with making my first zine for a class assignment, and coming from an English major background, it was shocking news to me that I could write about whatever I wanted to. At first, the lack of rules and guidelines was frightening in its openness but later freed during the making process. While brainstorming, flashes of potential illustrations, details, and written blurbs zapped the front of my brain and melted. But, three of them really stuck out to me. At first, I wanted to create a zine focused on broken things, which was inspired by my illustration of a cute runny egg on toast saying, “i’m broken inside,” which was born after an emotionally draining day of pandemic life. I wanted to write poems about broken things like a dried out potted plant, an insect missing a leg or wing, a bag of rice with a hole, a page hanging on for dear life in an old book. But, then I realized I had to draw all of these things and I don’t have the patience or time right now to stress over lines and shapes, so I shelved the idea. My second idea was to highlight my favorite BIPOC poets and writers as I am always advocating for diversity in the literary canon; however, I knew I would have to conduct research if I wanted to do the topic justice, and if I finally wasn’t being told to do research, I thought I should savor the rare occurrence, so onto the next thought, which is the seed that grew into my finished product. I was going to write about how it is to cope with the heightened challenges of OCD during the pandemic. I was going to clear up misconceptions and educate people on this mental illness. I was going to advocate for awareness and provide resources for those who are struggling. I was, I was, way too ambitious. I had even larger plans for its materials and distribution. My zine was going to be printed on recycled brown paper, not sterile looking white printer paper. I wasn’t going to just tack up my babies on telephone poles, no I was going to hide copies in a tree-like a squirrel and even dig a hole in the ground and place some in a box for strangers to find.
In the end, I ran out of time to order my brown paper, search for hiding spots in trees, and look for boxes to put into the earth because I was too busy daydreaming about the obscure ways readers would stumble onto my zine or little ways I could interact with my readers through riddles, word searches, and hidden messages. Even worse, I neglected to start drafting the written content until the weekend before it was due in a true scatter-brained fashion.
Paralyzed at the starting line, I remembered the advice my professor, Dr. Jason Luther, told our class when we were asked to make zines, and that is to write about your obsessions, and as someone with OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, this made me feel like I was born to make zines because I spend most of my day wrapped up in obsessions! So, for my zine I concentrated on my daily battle with the unbreakable cycle of unwanted thoughts and compulsions. I was compelled to bring attention to the negatives of living with OCD, and how on dark days it can feel like “torture in your brain”, which is in fact what I chose for the title, which I borrowed from a comedian and fellow OCD(er?), Drew Monson, so thanks Drew!
I also wanted to experiment with the way I told my story. Most of the time, well in this century I suppose, representation of mental illness is treated with a certain articulation in a serious, sometimes somber tone by academics, but since I was writing about my personal experiences, I allowed myself to take myself less seriously and occasionally poke fun at myself, except for in the final two out of six pages, which were dedicated to my more grim accounts of dealing with my intrusive thoughts and compulsions. To my surprise, the unspoken expectation of the external and internal zine form, experimental, matched the vibe of my content quite well.
When it came time to illustrate my work, I was feeling more confident knowing that artistic expression in all forms is encouraged in the zine community. In a community where the avant-garde is welcomed, the external and internal forms of zines vary from collages, mixed media, photography, comics, illustrations, collections, poetry, and prose, and so I decided to use a mix of photography, comic blurbs, illustrations, and narrative prose in my zine. I’ll admit it, I not only have a wandering mind when I’m writing but also when I’m illustrating. When I set out to draw, my mind jumps from overarching content to details like little side stories and tangents, hidden notes, and spells of dialogue between illustrated characters. But, I had no need to panic as although this diversion from focus is frowned upon in academic writing, it is embraced in zine making where anything goes. All in all, it goes to show that making zines doesn’t necessarily require organization, and could surprisingly benefit from a lack, therefore, so don’t be afraid to start without a plan because most likely it will turn out better anyway.