About a year ago, I stated making zines. It was something fun to share with friends, but then the pandemic hit, and we all stayed home. I couldn’t share my zines in person, so I started posting them to Instagram. I had no expectations for how people would respond. People seemed to like them, so every time I made a new zine, I posted it.
I attended a couple online workshops and (virtually) met people who make zines. That created a small community for me, which has been great during a year of limited social interaction.
I post my zines on Instagram and my blog, so anyone can read them digitally. But if anyone wanted a physical copy, there wasn’t an easy way to get one. Last August, I started an Etsy shop. Again, I had no expectations.
This week, I got a message about this zine:
A librarian who purchased Text Message Moods asked if she can use it as an example in a student workshop. I said yes because 1) it’s an opportunity to support education and 2) that’s super cool! A year ago, I would have never thought something I made would be in a workshop for students across the country.
It started with me making zines for friends.
Then I posted zines to Instagram.
Then I found more people who make zines.
And then someone who saw my zines reached out to me.
All of this to say—If you’re working on something (writing, art, poetry, film) and you aren’t sure how it’s going to go…share it anyway. You don’t know if people will like it until they see it. You can’t guess what connections you’ll make through your work.
Put your creative work out there, and see where it goes. It might lead you somewhere surprisingly good.
I contributed a page to the Pocket Thoughts Annual #3, a collaborative zine that features 25+ zinesters from around the world. Each contributor was welcome to do whatever they wanted with their page. I made this astronaut illustration:
I wanted to go for a collage look, but still where I made each part of it. This is what the elements looked like, before I put the page together:
I started with black cardstock and a white gel pen for the stars in the background. If you've seen my space-themed illustrations, you know I love drawing stars on black paper. 🙂
I drew the astronaut on white cardstock and the…cloud thing on black cardstock with a black fineliner and white gel pen. Then I cut those out.
The white strips on the left of the page are pieces of white cardstock.
I printed the text using my Phomemo printer. It's so handy for little things like this!
And then I glued everything into place. To send it in for the zine, I scanned it, so I could send a jpg.
Making this page took a while since I created each element separately, but I'm really happy with how it came out.
I started watching Abstract: The Art of Design on Netflix. It's a documentary series where each episode focuses on one designer and a different kind of design.
One episode is about Neri Oxman, a professor at MIT Media Lab. She leads a research team in exploring materials informed by nature. (Think: a strong plastic-like material made from proteins found in milk.)
In the episode, she talks about the relationship between art, science, engineering, and design. Usually, we think of them as four separate areas. You work in one domain but not the others. But Neri says, what if, instead, we thought of them as a circle? As a clock, where we shift from one discipline to another over time. Input from one domain becomes the output of another.
Neri uses architecture, design, engineering, and biology in her work, so it makes sense that she talks about interdisciplinary work.
A diagram displays on the screen at this point of the episode, and I paused it to draw it myself. When I see a diagram that clicks for me, I love recreating it as my way of learning.
Here's the circle, with the disciplines each having their own domain, but now connected.
I'm paraphrasing the explanation from the documentary:
Art is for expression. It looks at cultural behavior, which leads to questioning presumptions about the world. These questions lead into science.
Science is for exploration. We gain information (input from art) and turn it into knowledge (output to engineering).
Engineering is for invention. It takes knowledge and turns it into utility for design.
Design is for communication. We take utility, give it context, and turn it into cultural behavior (which is then expressed as art).
Full circle.
Continuing with the clock analogy, Neri says that at the midnight position, that's where art meets science, where Picasso meets Einstein.
I love this model because it shows the value of these disciplines working together. Rather than limit work to one domain, you can shift through domains (with a team...no one is an expert in all four areas) to create a full understanding, exploration, use, and expression.
I have some sample fountain pen inks from The Goulet Pen Company that are colors I would not write with, but they are definitely colors I would draw with. A bright yellow ink reminds me of caution tape, so I created this zine of everyday dangers, with the danger highlighted in yellow on each page.
I wanted to do a space and sea theme for a while, but I was stuck on the words. And then NASA found water on the moon.
I love how the colors, text, and illustrations came together. If you want to read about my process for this zine, keep scrolling after the images. 🙂
I started with a white sheet of cardstock and used blue and black stamping inks to build the background colors.
The blue ink is distress oxide ink, so it reacts with water. After the blue and black inks dried on the page, I sprayed the blue area with water and used a clean brush to move the water around and add some texture. Then I let it dry completely. I drew the seaweed and everything else in the blue area with Tombow dual brush pens.
I drew the stars and moon in the black area with a white gel pen.
Full disclosure: I wanted to draw little Daleks and built the rest of this zine around them.
Bonus material
Planning
If I don't quite know what I want to write or draw, I plan out the zine on one page, like so:
This acts as a rough draft of my zine, so I can sort out what I want on each page.
Guiding
I like to work on zines with the page unfolded, so I use small sticky notes to label each page, like this:
This lets me work on pages in whatever order I want, without losing track of the order in the folded zine. And, having the page unfolded means I don't have to worry about ink bleeding through to another page.
A handy little zine for how to identify potential time travelers.
To make the background for this zine, I started with white cardstock paper. I used distress oxide inks (3 shades of blue) and blended them on the paper with a sponge applicator. This ink reacts with water, so I used a gear stencil and traced the gear shapes with a brush and plain water. That's what made the sort of ghost-looking gears. I used watercolor brush pens with the stencil to create the darker blue and purple gears. The blue and orange clock faces (most of the cover page and the clock faces on the inside pages) are scrapbook paper that I happened to have and fit perfectly. :)
“So You Met Your Doppelgänger” is a hand-drawn mini zine printed on an 8.5"x 11" sheet of paper and hand-folded. The finished zine is 8 pages and approximately 4.25 inches x 2.75 inches.
This fictional zine is a handy guide for what to do when you meet your doppelgänger (whether they’re a clone, from an alternate universe, or a time traveler).
This is my most popular zine! You can read it below. Physical copies are available to purchase on Etsy.
My inspiration for this zine came from my freshman year of college. The women who lived in the dorm next to me were both radio DJs and often had music blasting in their room. I didn’t mind—they had great taste!—and I found lots of songs I like through them.
The idea of finding music you like through people around you expanded into the pages of this zine.
I tried something new for me—monochrome. Only gray and black pens and markers in this zine. I like how it turned out.
I use my bullet journal for personal writing and notes (nothing work-related), so I don’t have much that needs to be tracked on a daily basis.
A couple years ago, I started tracking how I spent my spare time. More specifically, days I spent consuming media vs. working on creative hobbies and side projects. I played with a few different formats and settled on this one, back in May 2018:
My monthly log from May 2018
My first monthly log
It’s similar to the monthly log in the official bullet journal method, but I added columns to track activities for media consumption (pictured in the yellow columns above) and creative work (pictured in the blue columns). I also had a column for "social", which was any time I spent hanging out with family or friends. My "other" column served as a catchall for everything else, like chores or errands. And there was space for brief notes for each day.
I liked this format, but the blue columns were mostly empty month after month. That's because I cycle through what kind of creative projects I work on. For example, I'm rarely drawing and writing at the same time. It's typically one, and then the other. And I have times where I'm not working on any creative projects at all, for whatever reason.
Also, it didn't really matter to me what kind of media consumption I spent time on (reading, writing, or listening). Having separate columns for those didn't help me.
So, I simplified.
A simpler monthly log
A few iterations later, this is what my monthly log looked like:
My monthly log from May 2019
Fewer columns. I had three, plus a section for notes.
CBA = Creative Bank Account
The first column is for "Creative Bank Account." This is an idea from Jake Parker (see his overview video). To summarize his video:
To produce art, you need to build up a “bank account” of inspiration
This could be movies, books, TV shows, music, live performances, museum visits, hobbies...anything that inspires you or teaches you
Inspiration doesn't have to be related to what you're producing
When you aren't feeling inspired to produce art, it might be because your bank account is "low." So, that means you need to make a "deposit"--surround yourself with inspiration to build up your creative bank account again
I marked this box when I spent time making "deposits" into my creative bank account. What were 3 yellow columns the year before were condensed to one column.
CO = Creative Output
The second column is for "Creative Output." This is for time I spent working on a creative project. That could be drawing, writing, or making something. And it included practice time; not only finished work. The blue columns from the year before were now condensed to one column.
The asterisk
The asterisk (*) column served as my catchall. I marked this for social events or running errands. Anything that was not CBA or CO.
I liked the simpler layout. At the end of the month, I could see at a glance where I spent my time when it came to creative work.
This format served me well, but I noticed a trend over time. I marked the CBA and asterisk columns every day. The CO column was the only one that varied.
I didn't need to have columns for things that happen every day. That didn't help me see a pattern. So I simplified the log even further.
Simpler still
Starting in May 2020, this is what my monthly log looks like:
My monthly log from May 2020
One column to track CO, and then space for brief notes each day. And that's it.
Besides being quick and easy to fill out the log every day, this simplified format is also easy to draw. Fewer columns, fewer lines, means a faster setup every month.
I like looking for ways to simplify my journal. The less time I spend on layouts and formatting, the more time I have for writing and working on projects.
Are there things you like to track monthly? How do you go about it? Please let me know in the comments, or send me a message.
I was organizing some old files and found a short story I wrote in 2009 while studying abroad in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I thought I had posted it here at some point, but no, I hadn't. Now seems like a good a time as any. So, here it is.
Every Wednesday between classes, I have two hours to kill. Two hours to be productive by reading a long article in Spanish about magical realism and the writers who best exemplify the movement. Two hours to drink tea (I don’t like coffee and it’s terrible here anyway) or watch the news on TV (la presidente is visiting Chile this week, the highlights of yesterday’s fútbol game). Two hours to pretend to be a local while I sit in this café.
This is routine for me now. After Art History, I take the B-line two stops east to the “microcentro,” the business and theater district of Buenos Aires. It’s not actually in the center of the city. It’s more northeast, but that’s how it is in Buenos Aires—people say things they don’t mean.
I come to this café every Wednesday morning at 10:30, give or take a few minutes. The menu here is huge, physically and in terms of options for breakfast and lunch. I’m not much of a breakfast person, so I order té con leche (tea with milk) and medialunas. The tea is a British brand, nothing special, but medialunas are the best food I’ve eaten in Argentina. They’re palm-sized croissants with flaky dough and come in two varieties: plain or sweetened with a thin coat of syrup on top. Most places have only the sweetened kind, and I won’t complain about that.
The waiter comes back with a full tray. I ordered two things, right? But not even the menus here are clear on what they mean. Té con leche means I get a large mug with a saucer, a tiny pitcher of warm milk on a saucer, a small teapot of hot water on a plate, and a tiny glass of orange juice.
The first time I ordered tea in Buenos Aires, I thought it was a strange custom of mixing orange juice into your tea. But no, the locals drink the orange juice separately. A little bit of vitamin C never hurt anyone.
Medialunas come in a basket. If they’re larger ones, you get three. Smaller ones, four.
My square table that is supposed to seat two is covered with excessive glassware. I rearrange everything into an arc around me to make space for that magical realism article. The page I’m on is talking about Julio Cortázar’s use of time. He likes to jump around a lot.
I unwrap the tea bag and drop it into the teapot. I look up at the TV and see that the public bus employees are striking this afternoon. Fine, I take the subway home on Wednesdays anyway. After the tea steeps, I fill my mug halfway. The rest I fill with milk.
Some of my friends back home joke about how much sugar I put in my tea. As in, I have some tea with my sugar. That didn’t change when I switched hemispheres. Most people in Buenos Aires have too much sugar and caffeine anyway. It’s because they stay up late and wake up early. Every kiosk on every street corner has a variety of sweets and candy bars to give you a sugar boost any time of the day. The waiter probably doesn’t think anything of the three sugars I put in my tea. Either that or he’s used to it by now. I always have the same waiter.
When you walk into most shops in Buenos Aires, employees will immediately walk up to you and ask what you’re looking for. This makes sense for two reasons. One, they want to make a sale, and two, direct contact with customers reduces shoplifting.
Restaurants and cafés don’t work that way. Usually you walk in and find a table yourself. When the waiter notices you, he gives you a menu. You have to wave him over when you’re ready to order. You may take your time eating and sit for as long as you like, and then you have to get the waiter’s attention again for the bill.
Americans are used to attentive waiters so the first few times I ate out were frustrating, but I don’t mind as much anymore. The locals are better at it than I am, but I’m getting there.
This is the best advice I have read about creative work:
Be boring. (It's the only way to get work done.)
It's from Steal Like An Artist by Austin Kleon, which is an excellent book for anyone interested in creative work. It's full of practical advice.
Most people have to practice their art for a while before they can make a living off of it, so in the mean time, they need a regular job. Austin says, get a job you can tolerate, pay your bills, and build a routine. When you have regular hours that you work, you know what time you have left, and you can carve out time to write stories, compose music, take photos, draw…whatever it is that you do.
Better yet, Austin points out that if your job doesn’t take a lot of creative energy, you’ll be happy to pour that energy into your hobbies. You take care of yourself, and you keep your mind in the right place to produce art.
This is more useful than the advice I’ve seen that focuses on craft. Other books I’ve read on writing tell me to set a daily word count goal and find a distraction-free space—which is fine, but they don’t connect creative work to the rest of your life.
Steal Like An Artist is the first book I’ve read that blends creative work with the average, day-to-day things. It’s the first time I’ve said, “Yeah, that’s something I can try today.”
