It wasn’t reading the classics that convinced me to become a writer. My gateway drug to the world of letters was zines—cheap, photocopied, self-published magazines filled with their authors’ reflections on the world.
Over twenty years later I still remember some of the first zines I read in the early 1990s. There was Saucy, a thick zine from Cornwall featuring interviews with bands. There was a bilingual political zine from Hull, titled Moo in English and Meuh in French, where I first read about vegetarianism. And there was Design 816, full of personal essays, which I picked up when the author was visiting Ottawa from Chicago.
From the first moment I encountered them, I became a zine obsessive. My suburban teen years were spent hunting these underground publications, picking them up on my trips to record stores and punk shows downtown. I sent large chunks of my allowance, a dollar or two at a time, to post office boxes across North America, ordering zines with titles like Dishwasher, Fuzzy Heads Are Better, Tyger Voyage, and Spunk. Needless to say, this was long before the Internet became ubiquitous.
Coming home after school, I often found the mailbox at my parents’ house filled with literary treasures in envelopes from faraway postmarks. The zines I read covered many topics: political polemics, music, food, train-hopping, feminism, secret histories, and intimate personal narratives from the underground. I devoured them all, but I was particularly drawn to those telling true stories from the author’s life. In the pages of Cometbus, Doris, Scam, and I’m Johnny and I Don’t Give a Fuck I found compelling narrative voices that I deeply related to. Reading them felt like getting a letter from a close friend. I had tapped into a vibrant community of punk writers who crafted great stories and then cut and pasted their work together, photocopied it, and released it with no thought of gaining attention from the world of mainstream literature. These were my first literary heroes. In a time before our current memoir boom, they wrote honest and true stories full of grit and heart.
“I had tapped into a vibrant community of punk writers who crafted great stories and then cut and pasted their work together, photocopied it, and released it with no thought of gaining attention from the world of mainstream literature.”
I instantly wanted to make a zine and the democratic nature of the form made me feel that I could do it. Reading other zines gave me a model for how I might write my own stories and get them out into the world. I also voraciously read contemporary novels as a teenager, but unlike those books—perfect works with no typos or evidence of the human hand that made them—zines convinced me that I, too, could be a writer. The status of zines as unofficial publications in a time of media conglomeration made the prospect of publishing one even more entrancing. Zines were secret, precious, hard to obtain. This, along with their tactility, made them almost magical objects, even as I tattered them with frequent re-reading.
Since its first issue in 1996, my zine Ghost Pine has been made up of true stories about my life. When I was younger I wrote about hitchhiking, long Greyhound bus rides, and visiting the cities where my many zine pen pals lived across North America. But as I got older and moved around less, I still wrote about my life in short creative non-fiction pieces, discussing things like my relationships with my grandparents, late night conversations with friends, and recollections of my high school social justice club. In all my stories for the zine I tried for honesty and hoped to improve my writing with each new issue. Over the years I have sold more than 10,000 copies. In 2010, a collection of the best stories from Ghost Pine was published by Invisible Publishing.
Ghost Pine’s publication schedule has slowed from annual to once every few years as my writing practice has grown and diversified into the “overground” with formal publications, cultural journalism, creation grants and a Master’s degree. Nevertheless, the work I did on my zine over the last twenty years remains at the heart of who I am as a writer. There might be an assumption that one graduates from making zines to publishing books and other “real” writing, but I’ve put out two new issues of Ghost Pine since the book came out.
Twenty years and fourteen issues later there is still a thrill to making a new zine. Writing and editing the stories, then doing my antiquated cut-and-paste layout (every year I make a resolution to learn how to lay it out on the computer and then don’t) and going to the copy shop to print, cut, and staple it together. I sell them at zine fairs and mail copies to my pen pals and to the people who order them online from as far away as Kuala Lumpur and Florianopolis, Brazil, often getting their zines in return.
Slipping them into their envelopes, I’m reminded that this subcultural community that nurtured me as a young writer continues to thrive and produce amazing writing from voices that might otherwise have remained silent without this low-cost and low-pressure art form. The endurance of this feisty corner of the wider world of writing is extremely gratifying. Long live zines.
Jeff Miller has written the zine Ghost Pine since 1996. In 2010, the best stories from the zine were published as Ghost Pine: All Stories True (Invisible Publishing). His creative non-fiction and cultural journalism also appear in a number of anthologies and periodicals. He will be a CALQ Writer-in-Residence at the Banff Centre in February-March 2016.
Photos: Sara Spike
44 thoughts on “From the Underground: A Writer’s Life with Zines by Jeff Miller”
Viva la zine. Every teenager should experience writing as some form of punk to get enthused by it. Good on you.
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So cool. Love it
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Reblogged this on oshriradhekrishnabole.
Your writing is fresh and a welcome change from what I read usually, keep it up and keep us entertained, thrilled and smiling.
“Short creative non-fiction” is my favorite thing to write, which I quickly discovered when I started blogging a couple of months ago. It doesn’t take a lot of time to write or read and, at its best, packs an emotional wallop.
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As a writer, I find this an extremely engaging read. Thank you for this insight, my dear. I appreciate it.
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Reminds me that I should pick up some zines. I love this post – a lot.
Absolutely loved this post (:
My brother-in-law who writes under the name Barnboy, learned to stitch his zine together. He felt like he was relearning how books came into being.
I never knew what zine were until now. I never even heard of it.
How do I get my hands on one?
writing is very good habit to have for everyone, I hope all you guys keep your writing until the world gone.
This is great. I love the world of DIY/punk production. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you view it) I grew up in the internet era which I guess slowed down this kind of subculture – everything happens online now. I love books like Rip It up and Start Again by Simon Reynolds and Michael Azzerad’s Our Band Could be Your Life which both give a vivid insight into a time when a bizz grew around a band through mix tapes passed from hand to hand or mailing lists with addresses in obscure parts of North America. Blogs are the new fanzines! That’s how I approach mine anyway. I just blog about whatever I’m passionate about.
I want to write a Zine!!!!!
I love this story, since I was little girl I have longed to write,
But I’m an Aussie Girl and we have poor grammar and poor spelling sometimes.
I have longed to find Pen Pals my whole life.
Well now I long to read a Zine
Then write one
I have just found (googled in fact) we have a healthy Zine community here Down Under.
Thankyou Jeff for your story
Cheers from Annie in Australia 🌞 🌴 🌊
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Though not quite the same thing, I’ve recently gone through a sort of Pamphlet revival. I find myself reading dozens of political/philosophical pamphlets written during the 18th/19th century. What’s great (and fuels this current addiction of mine) is that these are all available free online as PDFs (for the most part), so just print them and fold them up similar to how they were originally produced.
Makes me want to write some of my own and just leave them places for people to find (and probably throw away).
Reblogged this on The Colour of Poetry .
Reblogged this on Stepping Stones Magazine Lite and commented:
We think this is a great article to share about the importance of zines and other small press publications as being viable outlets to writers.
This post is terrific. Made my heart ache. I used to write record reviews for a zine based out of New Jersey called Jersey Beat. Loved those days. Getting stuff from my editor in the mail, listening to underground bands. I even heard Nirvana’s music before anyone outside of Seattle did. I’d make jaunts down to the East Village NYC to See Hear Books where all zines could be found. Closed down years ago. Again…heart ache.
Great post! Now I want to start my own magazine, even if it’s for myself.
Can someone recommend me some Zines?
The UK has some great reads, but i’m seeking something from the US, Canada or any other country. Or just send me some…please?
Reblogged this on Se ao acaso and commented:
All forms of writing are important, all forms of art are valid. NO, we can’t say that nowadays because many good poeple misunderstand it and many bad poeple take advantage of it. What is really true, thoug, is that all groups of society must have a chance to be heard, and writing is something extremely democratic, because only who wishes to read it will do it, and who doesn’t can never say they didn’t have a chance to do so. Yes, we must take nottice of our supposed “subcultures” and what they can contribute with us.
Had never heard of Zines. Really happy to have known it now and learned your experience.
This took me back to the ’90’s. Thanks for the article!
Reblogged this on Ravelled and commented:
As a zine writer myself, I have a special place in my heart for zines and those who take the time to seek them out. Cheers to the photocopiers and zine libraries that still push on.