Zines are the Future

10+ years in magazine publishing left me bitter. Zines brought me back—not just to print, but to myself.

NEW THIS WEEK!

I just put the print order in for a zine I made a couple years ago that you probably never saw. It’s called Old Punks Don’t Die and it’s a collection of short anecdotes about music shaped me throughout my life. I guarantee, some of the stories may surprise you.

OPDD is available for pre-order until the 3rd week when I receive my copies. Visit the shop to get your hands on a copy.

MEMBERS GET A FREE COPY!

Old Punks Don’t Die by Dave Conrey

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Speaking of Zines…

For over a decade, up until 2015, I lived either full time or as a contractor inside the machinery of magazine publishing. I loved the subject matter, and the most of the teams I worked with, but like most creative jobs that turn into JOBs, it wore me down. In 2013, I vowed to find my way to the exit by the end of the year, but as it goes sometimes, fate beat me to the punch with a pink slip, a stout severance check, and a dream.

Even though I knew it was time for me to bounce, the rug-pull stung a little. That kind of exit leaves a scar and I didn’t just leave a role. I left the whole idea of publishing behind, and for years, I didn’t want to be associated with any magazine projects (although they still found me).

But like any of my creative impulses, the itch came back.

The First Spark

It started with Mag Bash, which came from a thick, crusty art journal filled with haphazardly made collages. The first pages were created while on a vacation in Austin with my family as I did my best to detach myself from my mobile devices and get back to something real. I bought a couple pens and some glue from a local Walgreens, stole some magazines from the hotel lobby, and went to town making the ugliest collage bits I could cobble together.

I didn’t know it would eventually become a zine-type publication (more of a book, but not quite), but a year later, I had a self-published, deeply personal return to form. That project reminded me what it felt like to make something just because I wanted to.

Then came Old Punks Don’t Die. It was fun to create, but it didn’t sell well. Honestly, I didn’t talk about it much or position it as part of a bigger conversation. I made a zine, and that was that.

No context, no community, no spark to keep going.

Jump ahead to 2024 and I made my return to Substack after a year-long hiatus from the platform. What I found was a rich community of creative people working to make the platform cool for each other, and in that, a ton of zinesters making cool shit with their hands and not asking anyone for permission to do so.

Suddenly, I wasn’t on the outside anymore. I was in the middle of something much bigger than me.

The Process Feeds Itself

These days, I make zines with way less baggage. Sometimes I print them myself, and others I print professionally, on demand, which means I can experiment freely without worrying about money sunk into unsold copies.

I chase the idea, finish the thing, and release it. If nobody buys it, no big deal. I made it. I’m proud of it, and that’s enough.

But more often than not, someone does buy it. And the moment I print, pack, and ship one off, knowing someone else is going to hold it in their hands; that’s the stoke I’m chasing.

Each zine leads to the next. The more I make, the more I want to make. The more I want to share, trade, and connect with other zinesters. I’m buying more zines, reading more zines, talking about zines. It's not just a hobby—it's a full-on creative gravitational pull, and I’m spiraling to the event horizon.

Zines are the thing

For the past eight months, I’ve wrestled with what Manual Transmission could be to the readers, but the more I talk about these small books of creative freedom (and anarchy), the clearer it gets.

I am falling in love with the idea of making zines and other more tactile work a bigger part of my personal expression as well as sharing the work of others doing the same.

Not just because there’s an opportunity in the zine resurgence (though there is), but because I want to make them. They bring together my love of design, story, weird ideas, print culture, community, and unapologetic self-expression.

And if that isn’t a manifesto for everything I’ve been working toward, I don’t know what is. Manual Transmission will carry stories, dive into creative process, and explore big questions surrounding this blessed (and sometimes fucked up) experience with call creative expression.

We’re just going to put a lot more of it on paper. If you’re into that, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

NOTE: I’m also reevaluating member benefits to include more access to printed zines as well as digital assets, and as that Note above shows, I’ve got a plan bubbling to the surface.

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External Signals

• Kristin Tweedale
  is sharing a free course called Find Your Voice Summer Camp where get comfortable with self-expression through journaling. Channel your truth through introspection, reflection, glue and stickers.

• Inspired by a trip to KFC, Hahns Atelier made a fine leather bag fit for the Colonel.

• Buy Olympia is one of my favorite online shops to visit for art, books, and other items made by an assortment of creative folks from the Northwest region. Fun Fact: They aren’t actually in Olympia (anymore), but based in Portland, where it’s wet and cold, and artists need money for wool beanies and Mephisto boots.

• Craphound Magazine is my favorite thing at Buy Olympia.

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Manual Transmission runs on attention, intention, and the contribution of others. Become a paid member and get access to free digital assets, how-tos, live process videos, and other surprises (zines?). Your contribution will help keep this ride running smoothly.

Not convinced? Test it free for a week.