Category: General

See? I am learning. I didn’t make firm plans to post on Tuesday or today because I knew my rental inspection (a mere 15 hours away, but who is counting?) would cause a lot of stress and anxiety. And here we are! No promises broken – though my own personal disappointment because how dare the world tear me away from my love of zines?!

I wanted to say thank you for your patience. With Wanderer’s long recovery complicated by a nasty cold and this inspection, I have been all over the place.

The epitome of this? This arvo I ran around doing errands for a bit and only fully realised in the middle of getting groceries that my knickers that were only a couple months ago too small are now too big. With a tight belt holding up my pants because they are also now too big, you can imagine the wonderful time I had completing my errands.

On that fun note, I’ll wrap this up. I’ll be back tomorrow post-inspection with a fresh new zine review for you. <3

Image found here

Alas, no mail this week, but after last week’s mail extravaganza, I’m still feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

Last week I asked for your help deciding on a zine title. The poll is still open, if you’d like to weigh in. However, I’m fairly decided on the title (with the weight of the Twitter poll results thrown into the mix with these results). Funnily enough, it’s the title I’d decided on ages ago but suddenly got panicky about last week.

Weird ol’ Nyx brain strikes again.

On another note, if you have a ‘my first zine’ story you’d like to share, I’d love to include it in the aforementioned zine. 🙂

Things are a bit stressful around here. Wanderer had a small op – just a day surgery – but recovery is slow and painful. Moreso than either of us expected and in a way that leaves him fully occupied with recovering. Top that off with our upcoming rental inspection – a panic-attack inducing event that comes twice a year – and I am struggling to stay calm and relaxed. There’s always so much to do, and now there is a big ol’ load of things to do on top of that.

The silver lining is that all the work needing doing keeps me moving. With winter gearing up and gas an expensive luxury, keeping warm in other ways is a very good thing.

Well, as per always, there are many things to be done. I will leave things here for now and wish you all the best possible week ahead.

[polldaddy poll=9753479]

In part one, Zine Awards, Entry Fees, & Broken Pencil – Part One: The Meaning of Competition, I wrote about the Broken Pencil Zine Awards and how I think using the word ‘awards’ rather than the more appropriate (in my opinion) ‘competition’ could be influencing some people’s reactions and mood when it comes to this event. In this post, I talk about the big, rather expensive, elephant in the room.

This is where I get passionate.

Part of the reason these posts took longer (and ended up being longer) than I anticipated is because I became curious about the costs involved to enter. Especially after reading that, if you’re sending physical zines, then four copies of each entry is required.

This in and of itself isn’t surprising, but it did automatically increase costs of production and postage (if the creator chooses to post them). So I spent a long morning navigating exchange rates and postage calculators for Canada, the US, the UK, and Australia.

Let’s get right to the numbers. I created this table so it’s easier to see:

Things to note about this table:

*I am basing all calculations on 1 zine = 50 grams / the required 4 copies of each zine = 200 grams. The size of your zines could influence the postage costs I’ve included in my calculations.
*Yes, I remembered to convert grams to ounces for US post.
*With the UK and Australia post costs, I didn’t go absolute cheapest route possible because that’s sea mail and can take months to arrive. However, I only went one better with basic airmail.

The first thing you may notice about the table is that there are different costs based on whether you are a Broken Pencil Member or not. Base membership (there are two levels – see the options here) costs $29.99 CAD ($29.68 AUD, 21.99 USD, $17.04 GBP). So while it’s a nice reward for current members, it’s not incentive to join for the sake of a discounted entry fee and free entries for second and third zines.

PLEASE NOTE: This is not commenting whatsoever on the perks of membership itself.

Obviously, the $20 entry fee is what has made some people upset. As far as competitions go, entry fees aren’t exactly uncommon. Even the person who asked me to write these posts said they could understand a small charge. It’s the amount that is the problem.

Speaking from my experiences as an author, $20 is an expensive entry fee. There would have to be a fairly big prize on the line and, even then, I know authors who couldn’t enter and other authors who simply wouldn’t on a matter of principle because of such a high fee.

Entry fees can be tough to decide on. How much is too much? Would $10 (50% off the current entry fee for non-members) be okay? Or is it only easier to swallow at $5? If you’re using the fees to cover the prize – will enough people enter to cover?

Along those lines, I think we need to remember that Broken Pencil is a business. So many of us don’t charge for/don’t think about the time and materials we put into these creations we love making, so it’s easy to assume that Broken Pencil – a magazine dedicated to zine culture – would do things the same way. But a business is a business, and we need to remember to consider possible background costs that prompt the entry fee being what it is. There is the prize money but also the possibilities that they are paying for advertisements as well as paying people for their time.

(An explanation of these costs, if they are there, by Broken Pencil could be a good way to explain what is, from the outside view, simply an expensive entry fee.)

However, by that same token, we then need Broken Pencil to also acknowledge the time and materials cost of creating the zines (no matter whether they are digital or physical entries) – something that is too complex and varied to add into the table above but is an important consideration.

The entry fee isn’t the one and only stopping point for some people (though fair enough to comment on its own). The more I looked into the costs involved from the zine maker’s perspective, the more I came to see that the combination of stopping points is the bigger issue.

Looking past that, the next difficulty comes in the form of postage costs. As much as many of us would like to do something to change them, they’re absolutely and completely non-negotiable.

Broken Pencil has, however, given the option of sending in digital versions of your zine. Here’s a table to show the costs:

Looking at this table compared to the first, going digital turns the cost of a single zine entry for a non-member from $22.95 CAD ($27.76 AUD, $18.42 USD, £16.12 GBP) to $20 CAD ($19.76 AUD, $14.76 USD, £11.37 GBP). Not a massive savings, but a savings nonetheless.

Not needing to pay for postage could make all the difference to zine makers who were stopped by the postage costs rather than the entry fee. (There’s also the possible added bonus of showing off your zines in colour without needing to deal with the cost of printing with colour ink.)

Yet, while helpful, the digital option doesn’t fully cover the problems that arise with the costs involved in entering. In fact, it creates one.

So much of who I am and the pride I take in what I create comes in the form of the physical. The paper I choose, how I bind all my zines with green thread, and all the additions that go into the zines after they are printed.

With digital entries, zine makers who create zines that aren’t easily scanned, aren’t practical for scanning, and/or lose something when being converted to digital are excluded. Yes, there are plenty of zine makers who could ‘take the hit’ of losing ‘texture’ in the hopes that the ‘flavour’ will carry the zine.

But what if you’re the zinemaker who folds his zines into origami creations? The zinemaker who uses traditional Japanese binding for her Japan-themed zine? Or the zinemaker who enjoys putting mini-zines and other tiny treasures within their zines? About that poster-sized zine…

I hope you have enough money for postage.

Broken Pencil is a big voice in a world where we could use more voices introducing people to the amazing, wonderful creations that are zines. This is an exciting event for them and, if you are able to enter, then there’s the potential to win a great prize.

In this event, however, I think there are more ways people are excluded than they are included. The entry fees are expensive – even moreso for non-members. The postage involved in most scenarios gets expensive in a hurry. The digital option without the postage costs just isn’t possible for some zine makers.

Again, I’m not against competitions (so long as they are being clear about what they are), and you can’t please all of the people all of the time. But when so many excluding factors pop up, I think some (more?) considerations need to be made for the people you hope will enter.

Zine makers aren’t exactly known for being rich – to the point of laughing when people ask how to make a profit from making zines. So many don’t have the ability or can’t risk investing in chance. And increasing those chances simply leads to more expense.

“Then just don’t enter” I hear people saying. “Nobody is forcing you to enter.”

To that, I say:

There’s a lot of difference between choosing not to participate and being too poor to participate.

Yes, there are options that make it more affordable than other options, and credit to Broken Pencil for that. Send a PDF (if you have one/can make one/have a zine that lends itself to scanning). Enter (four copies of) one zine instead of (four copies each of) two or three. Use sea mail (NOW) and cross your fingers that it doesn’t get lost and arrives on time.

But that’s not the point.

Desperately trying to find the funds or immediately knowing you can’t enter an event at best takes a lot of fun out of it and, at worst, creates a class system within a community that strives against such limiting and often-negative constructs.

Last month, Broken Pencil – a magazine (or mega-zine as they write on site) on zine culture and independent arts – announced its first ever Broken Pencil Zine Awards. Submissions are open until July 15th. Nominees will be announced by September 1st, and the winners will be awarded at Canzine 2017 in Toronto on Friday, October 20th.

With a prize pool of $1000 ($200 per category), plus $400 if your zine is chosen Zine of the Year, it has definitely gained some attention. However, with a $20 entry fee for non-members (for the first zine, $8 for the second, and $8 for the third), it’s also caused some not-so-great comments as well.

I’ve been asked to share my thoughts on the event. What I thought would fairly be cut and dry turned into a look at small business, zine culture, and competitions.

I first heard about the Broken Pencil Zine Awards when someone posted about not supporting the idea. They felt that (I’m paraphrasing) putting zines and zine makers in competition like that went against the spirit of zine making.

While I respect and understand that line of thinking on the matter, I don’t fully agree with it. (Speaking with the bias that I celebrated 100 zine reviews by putting up a zine awards event of my own.) I do think though, that line of sentiment brings up the first thing that niggled me when I read more about this event:

It’s a competition.

You may be thinking ‘of course it is’ at this point, but my point is that the word ‘competition’ isn’t anywhere to be seen, and I think it needs to be.

‘Competition’ is only one word, but in these sorts of situations when you have some people getting upset, then one word can make a huge difference..

The definition of competition is, “The activity or condition of striving to gain or win something by defeating or establishing superiority over others.”

By requiring an entry fee, it means the zine maker is making an investment (moreso than other types of entry conditions) and creates the ‘in it to win it’ environment. With phrases like ‘the most creative and cutting-edge zine creators’ and ‘best of the best’ (the latter found in an announcement post) you are creating a competition environment.

Yes, it’s a fine line, but it’s an important one. The words ‘competition’ and ‘award’ create certain expectations. Call it an ‘award competition’ if you like, but to me, awards are about appreciation through equal and open opportunity nomination. Whereas competitions are about a certain slice of a group entering into something with the intention of being better than someone else.

A fee for a competition feels different than a fee for an award (is there such a thing?). An award is like an acknowledgement for hard work, and people don’t usually expect to pay to be acknowledged.

I am heart and soul an editor, so while the wording may be important to me, it might not be important to others. The issue getting many people up in arms is the $20 entry fee for non-members.

More on the hard figures in my next post.

TL;DR I think it’s a competition, and the title should reflect as much to be clearer about expectations. The money stuff is in the next post.

A couple of weeks ago, Wanderer and I were chatting to guy who was passing through town and only there for one night. As sometimes happens, said guy (I shall call him Square) wanted to know what I do for a living. This is always a difficult topic, as I seem to baffle anyone above a certain age and anyone who has had or currently has a nine to five.

Heaven forbid a woman of my age trying to get by on what meagre talents she has.

Wanderer proudly announced that I write books and such, but Square seemed a bit mystified by ‘urban fantasy’ so Wanderer then said that I write zines and explained a little bit about what they are.

“What do you write about?” Square asked.

I replied that there are a number of different topics, but I have one series that is primarily autobiographical.

Square shook his head and announced that no one wanted to read about other people’s lives, to which I replied that I’ve loved biographies since I was a child.

“So what makes you so special?”

Wanderer must have sensed my growing frustration at that point, because he jumped in with the very cliff notes version of leaving everything I knew at barely twenty years old to travel halfway across the planet with some clothes and a laptop to start a new life.

Square was insistent this was not anything anyone would be interested in reading about, at which point we pushed the conversation in a different direction.

Who do you think you are?

What makes you so special?

These questions and questions like them are used so often to bring artists down. To somehow make artists ‘on the same level’ as everyone else.

Somehow, to create something is considered by some people – sometimes by the artists themselves – to be self-indulgent privilege that should only be granted to those who have been deemed valid by others. Some people seem to think a thing should only exist if they think it has value.

Bullshit.

Fast forward a few weeks.

I sat in the little medical office while the nurse helped me to map out my health care plan. I was lost and confused with new chronic illness conditions to add to the list. I was intimidated by the idea of needing a ‘health care team’, and the term ‘quality of life’ rang in my ears.

She asked me a few questions, and I eventually had to confess that this was all new to me and that I was pretty confused about, well, everything to do with my new diagnosis. She nodded, understanding, and said:

“I have that condition, too.”

What? She did? This woman who was so different from me in age, employment, economic background, and countless other things that conversation didn’t bring up was also like me?

I wanted to know so much more. When was she first diagnosed? How? How long has she been dealing with it? Were her side effects like mine? Did we struggle with the same things? What lessons had she learned that she could share with me?

There were so many things I wanted to know about this stranger and her life. I wanted her to have written zines upon zines about her experiences so I could get them all and read them. I felt comforted by the fact that someone who had this big, scary diagnosis in common with me was so great at being a successful nurse.

And she had no idea.

One of the most beautiful feelings in life is finding out that you aren’t alone. That you aren’t the only one. But if we, as artists, were to stop creating, stop writing, stop putting our Selves out there for want of some sort of permission slip from the universe, there’s so much more pain that will happen because of the lack of our art.

Yes, this is a power that so many people who create things don’t realise they have. Whether you are sharing your story through paintings, zines, books, handwritten letters to penpals, and so much more, you are having an impact. You are changing lives, and you don’t even know it.

As a creator, you will touch another person’s life. Perhaps thousands for millions of lives. The only thing you need to accept is that you will never know the full impact you have. Only you have lived your life with your setbacks, your reactions, your failures, and your successes. Only you are fully equipped to share your story in whatever medium you feel most called to.

You should share your story because you’re the best person to share it, and you have no idea how many people could could help, comfort, and inspire by doing so.

Who do you think you are? You are a creator. You put things into the world, you give, and you damn well don’t need permission to do so.

Yep, even reviewers get reviewed. Or maybe especially? Though Fishspit doesn’t seem to be taking any particular revenge on this reviewer. Enjoy Joe Fishpit’s review of Don’t Call Me Cupcake 7.

Don’t Call Me Cupcake #7 is like looking at a beautiful dark cloud that has a silver lining. I’m very fond of clouds, especially dark clouds, and i’m very fond of this zine.

Nyx is one weird goddamned chick . . . and she struggles mightily . . . but if she wasn’t so weird, and she didn’t suffer more than her share, we wouldn’t have such a delightful zine.

I have no ability to think or write linear, so let’s just pop around. Asimov! If you don’t adore cats, i’ve got no use for you. I find anything written about a person’s cat fascinating. Asimov went through the ringer. Nyx’s angst follows him through his trials. She includes pictures and that cat is one fine looking fellow. I’ve never met him so i can’t say for sure, but he looks delightfully stoic . . . with a touch of sorrow in in his huge eyes . . . maybe over man’s inhumanity to animals.

For the first time in a Cupcake Nyx includes some of her fiction . . . from an upcoming novel. Yes . . . this bluestocking writes novels too. It’s a schizo experience because her fiction voice is completely different than her zine voice. I guess that’s what makes her a true writer . . . one who can disengage from their usual voice. It’s good fiction! This surprised me! I assumed that Nyx wrote insipid, gomer type literature for over-sized lesbian broads that dress up as some sort of cross between Bigfoot and Sheena for their fantasy cons. I was wrong.

92 Truths is the stuff of strange humor by one that has had to laugh to keep from crying. On Manic Panic: you know when you are in the grocery store and there’s a cart sitting there . . . with a few things in it . . . but no one is around to claim it? That’s Nyx’s cart! She’s “gone baby gone!”

On I Don’t Love Myself – And That’s Okay: Even the little neurotic woman that lives in Nyx’s brain has a neurotic woman living in her brain! You’d want Nyx’s brain about as much as you’d want a case of leprosy. Check it out! Nyx is a pretty positive person for being a completely whacked out weirdo . . . and even this delve into the realms of negativity has weird twists into P.M.A. (positive mental attitude – like the Bad Brains song). Nyx is an absolute expert at overthinking things. You like a good ping pong match? You’ll love this article!

One of my fave parts of Cupcake is the Little Thoughts. Another bunch of bubbles of wonderful wit and crazy insight in this issue.

If you don’t order this zine you are robbing yourself the pleasure of looking into one of the most fascinating minds in the zine world. I guarantee you will dig this zine! If you don’t . . . well . . . “I pity the fool.”

I first read The Blue Sword when I was nine, possibly younger. I absolutely adored Robin McKinley’s writing voice, proper and gentle yet with a reliable steel when and where needed. It was the voice of a narrator who saw all and could be relied upon to deliver everything you could need and want to read in the story.

I rented it in hardback from my local library. Repeatedly. I’d always return it just in case someone else would stumble across it and love it as much as I did, but I would inevitably end up grabbing it again in a few weeks or so time. A conservative guess would say that I’ve read it more than twenty times. A less conservative guess would say more than fifty.

The Blue Sword is more than simply a book to me. It’s sacred to me. A totem. A safe space and a feeling of home in a time and place where I didn’t often feel safe and never felt at home. Though life took me far away from that library, I came back to it as an adult, ordering my very own copy to keep with me always.

This is the book I always come back to for a read when I am feeling far away from my writing and my creativity.

When I need to refill the well.

I think I first heard of the concept of refilling the well on Lynn Viehl’s blog – though I could be wrong about that, as I can’t seem to find any references to it. (Perhaps Stephen King’s On Writing?) The basic gist is that you can’t, as an artist of any sort, continue on creating forever with no input. Whether you make zines or murals, we all need to take time to find our inspirations. To refill the well of what drives us to create.

I’ve seen so many people make posts or status updates, guiltily ‘confessing’ to not working on this or that. I imagine I’ve done the same thing at some point or another. But there’s nothing to feel guilty about.

It’s taken me an unfortunately long time to remember this basic concept about life as an artist. To remember that, as creative people, we need to feel inspired. How we go about it is up to us to find. Perhaps taking yourself out for a coffee is the best, going to an art gallery, or sitting at a local park and watching people for a while. A marathon of your favourite shows or reading your favourite novel could be just what you need.

Do I wish I could be so creatively filled to create a Don’t Call Me Cupcake on the schedule I started last year? Absolutely. Do I wish I could have embraced writing my next novel two years ago instead of now? More than I can say. But I’m tired of feeling guilty about taking all the time I need and needed for both.

Time to release yourself from the guilt, too.

To each their own process. To each their own time.

Hello everyone! I hope you all had a lovely long weekend, regardless of whether you celebrate or not.

The weather was absolutely stunning locally, and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to do as much work as possible outside. Haha. Wanderer and I don’t really do anything for Easter as such as we’re neither religious nor have family to call us to doing anything.

Because it’s Easter Monday today, there’s no mail service and thus no happy mail. I did, however, have a big ol’ weekend in which to catch up on all my mail and then some! There’s quite a few things to send out, which is why I only do these kind of send outs once or twice a year. Hehe. If you’re expecting mail from me, it’s coming soon!

With the bullet journal zine finished, I find that I’m in this exhilarating but somewhat confusing place of ‘what do I do next?’ I’m excited about all of the possibilities but not sure where to take everything.

So, for now, I am open to suggestions if you have any sort of ideas or requests for zines, posts here, or anything else along those lines.

Until next time!