I've been dreaming of making a little zine for over a year. I’ve made many drafts but have never committed to finishing it. I’ve made a zine before, but the idea for this zine has felt precious and hard to commit to. Yesterday, I sat down and made it.
I really noticed how I used my time across the hour—I spent most of my time on the cover and the first few pages, and then I had to speed up significantly. It reminded me of a storytelling practice I use, where I try to tell the story in a minute, 2 minutes, and so on up to 5 minutes. Instead of time feeling like a constraint, it becomes another ingredient in the creative mix, and my use of it shifts how the work goes.
I also noticed my attitude toward the materials I was using. In draft form, I use scratch paper and a pencil. Today, I got out beautiful paper and a nice pen. I felt a little mournful, thinking about how I was using my nice paper without any certainty about whether it would turn out well in the end. Having just worked with The Fool, I could feel that energy feeding into this creative process. There was a trust, an abandonment of the need for a certain outcome that the creative process needed to build on.
I often line up my creative tools on my desk before I start and think of them as magician’s instruments. I think there are some tools that I would like to build more skill with.
Throughout the whole process, I kept thinking, is this another draft or is this The Real Thing? I mostly let that thought go and just focused on making the zine as best as I could.
When I sat in silence, I felt a lot of buzzing energy, and I enjoyed the way time moved more slowly again. I felt a mix of many feelings. Accomplishment for meeting my intention. Amusement that I’d been making this harder than I needed to. Disappointment that the thing I’d looked forward to making for so long was finished, and I’m not sure if I like it. Overall, it felt good to pause and honor the time that I’d spent more fully that I usually would.