Fifteen years ago, we could still say things to a limited audience of concentric circles. That’s how I started out as a writer. As a cut-and-paste, tactile zinester who wielded tape and a staple gun. When I first started writing in college, my friend Tara and I collaborated on a stapled-and-photocopied zine we called Cupsize. Our name was a play on our large busts.
Cupsize was a chance to play, and a collaboration of lightness and freedom. I never thought of what we wrote being read by a future employer. We printed about 500 copies of each zine and traded and sold them to our readers all over the world. We got in-depth letters in response, often in mail art envelopes. We wrote the zine to embrace our creative chemistry and to give ourselves total freedom to write about anything we fancied exploring in print. We wrote about everything, from the mundane to the meaningful, we said, from labor politics and bi chic to the taste of grape soda. Read more ›
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