Writing and Reading Zines as Resistance

Questioning ‘professionalism’ + Q&A with Charissa Lucille of Wasted Ink Zine Distro

My daughter Maeve hanging out in the reading corner at WIZD

Last week I read a post telling writers they needed to professionalize their writing to succeed on Substack. Shit, I thought, my last post was kinda sloppy. Revision is often my favorite part of writing. If I'm not careful, I'll edit and edit and never publish anything. The post has haunted me all week, and I object to it as a blanket statement – even for writers who want to build a readership. Writing doesn't need to be 'professional' to be worthy of reading or publishing. And sometimes, striving for professionalism comes at the high cost of a radical message or personal mission getting erased. This is why zines thrive under even the bleakest circumstances–they are a way of casting off the restraints of professionalism and writing what needs to be read now.

Let me state the obvious: Professional writing is connected to making money. One way people gain credibility before getting paid (and in hopes of being paid) is by writing to the standards of their desired writing profession, whether in the business, literary, or journalism worlds. 

I work with small business owners to edit or write copy for their websites that will establish trust and increase sales. I've written a novel draft and many query letters to get the manuscript in front of the right people who may one day help it become a book. My degree is in journalism, where I learned the highly structured art of reporting. So, yes, there are times when it makes sense to write by external standards set by professions. But, I get angry when I see 'professionalizing' being touted as the best way to make an impact and the only way that writing is worth anything.

A lot of advice seems to say, just toil away a little longer until your writing is worthy of being put before other people. What if the writer works full-time and volunteers in their community? What if they're a single parent or caregiving for their elders? What if their efforts to perfect their writing prevent them from publishing a single word? 

The injustice baked into U.S. writing standards became most apparent when I worked with a client for whom English was their second language. They wanted to sound like a native English speaker, so I fixed existing grammatical mistakes and wrote new web pages. I worked hard to write in their voice, or – rather – the voice my client preferred to have, which would get them more sales. How could I preserve their voice if I erased that they were originally from another country – except for a mention on the about page? It wasn't about their true voice at all, really, it was about perception and the standards of their industry and white U.S. entrepreneurialism.

My local zine shop is where I go when I need to breathe. Wasted Ink Zine Distro, run by my dear friend Charissa Lucille, is where I find writing most concerned with the liberating act of publishing. Where else will I find issue three of Riot and Roux, which focuses on mental health and food system workers? Or Fuzzy Cherry issue three, which is all about desserts that taste like other desserts?

WIZD started in 2015 and currently distributes work from over 400 creators and has a zine reading library with over 1500 zines. WIZD also hosts the Phoenix Zine Fest – the seventh annual is next week (August 19 & 20) at The Nile Theater in Mesa. If you're local, consider attending! It's always a wonderful time. 

I've known Charissa since we sat in an intro journalism class together, both wearing Birkenstocks way before they were cool again. We were two dreamy artistic writers, and our program was intent on polishing away any weirdness and producing Grade A journalists. It's fair to say we both had (and still have) a strong anti-authoritarian streak.

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Devin: What do you see as the role of zines and DIY publishing in building a liberated world?

Charissa: I believe the history of the freedom of the press has always contributed to a liberated world, and it's up to us to continue to find inventive ways to combat homogeneity within writing and published thought. 

Zines capture culture in the moment as it evolves, and zine librarians have been able to track evolving lexicons through zines. We know how powerful language is, and when people have a space to write about their culture through their lived experiences, it allows cultures and ideas to shift and change all while being documented within zines. In traditional publishing spaces, certain words outside of standard writing styles are removed by editors and publishers.

Zine making queers publishing (queer in this case, meaning existing and experiencing things through a non-heteronormative perspective rather than specifically referring to LGBTQIA+). Zine makers are queering the way people publish their own or collective works. Those who read and enjoy zines actively queer the media and content they consume. A powerful shift can happen when a higher number of folks are absorbing a higher rate of underground self-published works rather than mainstream voices and ideas. 

Zines have always been, and will always be, an integral part of building a liberated world.

Devin: What's the argument for not always "professionalizing" and instead publishing zines whenever and however you want? 

Charissa: Providing folks with outlets to publish in their own ways means their ideas won't be polished or combed over. Traditionally published or academic text can be stuck in echo chambers or exist in journals behind paywalls which are inaccessible to the average person. 

Zines exist in a variety of looks, shapes, and feels like dressed-up booklets with thick, crisp paper, and hand-threaded binding, to zines printed on thin paper that feel like they will disintegrate in your hands. Inside the pages, we find vulnerable poetry, dream journals, scribbled drawings, calls to action, and so much more. 

By keeping zines out of the professional publishing world, creators can find a platform to have their voice heard on their own terms, which seems to be rarer in recent years. Zines exist in a liminal and loudly unprofessional space, where they thrive despite increased paper and ink costs and the rise and saturation of the internet. 

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The standards I enforce as an editor combine with my perfectionism and loom large in my mind. It's yet another way my world tells me I'm not good enough as a woman, mother, and non-advanced-degreed writer. But to hell with that. If I want to publish, I need to liberate myself from professionalism that goes too far and becomes a barrier.

Professionalism in publishing is, in theory, about helping writing appeal to the largest group of people. That can be good because it can bring a broader audience to radical people and ideas. Also, learning to write and edit in AP Style or other rulebooks can be empowering. But let's also contend with the fact that writing professionally is highly subjective and measures us all by rules set up to (and still) mainly benefit straight white men and people who write like them. 

Writing should be valued not only based on how it follows rules but because its message and creature are worth listening to. Historically marginalized writers who are Black, Indigenous, People of Color, LGBTQIA+, disabled, chronically ill, or neurodivergent often have the least time and support to ensure their writing checks all the boxes of 'professionalism.' This is how publishing is social justice and why a wide range of writing should be raised up and read and celebrated.

I'm not saying there's no place for professionalism. But in a country where Maui is in flames from land mismanagement, where birthing Black parents and their children are harmed at an unforgivably high rate, and where politicians fight to ban books under the guise of 'parental rights,' maybe professionalism is overrated. Perhaps it's time to publish fearlessly, however and whenever possible. 

Zines aren't new, but I think there is newfound hope and agency whenever someone discovers them as an alternative to mainstream media. As a reader and writer, I've been guilty of judging a writer by their publisher. Still, I'm making it right by reading and sharing more zines and connecting to the possibilities of publishing unprofessionally. The range and vibrancy of writing available in zine form continues to be magnificent. Zines are for all of us and where we want to go.

Some of my favorite zines

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Reading - I just finished Cuisine & Empire by Rachel Laudan. Currently reading Not Too Late edited by Rebecca Solnit and Thelma Young Lutunatabua, and Sweetness and Power by Sidney W. Mintz. I'm listening to Pride and Prejudice on audiobook for my 'I've spent too much time on tiktok and need my brain to settle down' book. ZINES: Wasted Ink stocks so many good zines about food. I also love Dinner Bell, Eaten Magazine, Cake Zine, and Compound Butter. HalfLetter Press publishes some of my favorite zines about publishing: Artist Publishers Reflect On Book Waste by Temporary Services, What Problems Can Artist Publishers Solve? by Temporary Services with PrintRoom, How To Prepare Yourself For The Collapse Of The Industrial Publishing System by Eric Schierloh. And don't forget about Publishing now: GenderFail's working class guide to making a living off self publishing – (Digital Download version).

Writing – I published an interview with Rebecca May Johnson in Autofocus about her incendiary (in the best way) book Small Fires. I've been reading/thinking about Small Fires for over six months and am still developing new ideas/insights/sparks.

Cooking – I had some nectarines and apples that were too mushy for anyone in my house to enjoy raw, so I cut them into small pieces and cooked them with sugar, water, salt, and Diaspora Co. cardamom. Delicious on cottage cheese, toast, ice cream, or alone. I also finally cooked a bag of white tepary beans I bought from Ramona Farms a little while ago. I slow-cooked the beans and then made some into a vegetable soup and drained and froze the rest to have on hand. Absolutely delicious and satisfying.