Every other week, Zine Scene uncovers writers’ and artists’ adventures in the world of independent publishing. This guest installment comes courtesy of Rad Dad creator Tom Moniz, who was previously profiled here.
I’m not good at a lot of things. I tend to dabble, try something for a minute, then move on to the next one. I also balk at bureaucracy, at jumping through hoops, at following rules. Now, being good is subjective, I admit, but I can say that writing is something that I enjoy. And performing — yes, I can honestly say that there’s something about it that feels better than drugs (and it’s healthier too). And making friends — I like that too.
So whether or not I am good at the aforementioned activities, one thing I know is that I’ve committed to them. That’s why in order to celebrate the recent ninth-annual San Francisco Zine Fest, I concocted the idea to do a zine tour of Northern California. And why not? Zines involve all the things I like to do, that I hope to be good at: writing, or drawing, or even taking photos. They can involve performance, and they are absolutely meaningless without community.
I love zines because I love meeting people. I realized that there are so many people I have met through trading zines, writing letters, and yes, even posting on blog sites that there could be nothing more grand than to get a bunch of us together in various cities to appreciate one another, to offer praise, and to be inspired.
So I put the word out, and sure enough, two other zines writers, Leilani Clark and Dani Burlison of Petals and Bones Zine, agreed to set up a whirlwind seven-day, six-city reading extravaganza.
And the zine world came out to help. We read in a radical infoshop in Santa Cruz, a comic-art store in San José, a volunteer-run community space in Oakland, an independent bookstore in Davis, with a band in Santa Rosa, and finally, at the zine Mecca in the San Francisco’s Mission district — Needles and Pens, a store dedicated to zine and DIY culture.
But more than where we read, I gained such a profound appreciation for the power of stories and storytelling. I brought along my daughter to one specific event so she could listen to a story about Leilani Clark’s run in with Bikini Kill, but in the end, my daughter asked for two dollars to buy her own copy of Crosshatch’s new zine about zombies attacking Oakland. Kids buying zines: that’s a beautiful thing.
So I may never master an art. But I don’t have to. With zines, I think I’ve come to understand the little bit of wisdom given to us by a wonderful Santa Cruz waiter, blond hair aflow down his shoulders, skin tanned from the sun. His words became the zine-tour mantra.
Be good or be good at it.
Zines ain’t gotta be perfect; they just gotta be.