Let’s be honest: you’ve been thinking about making a zine for months, maybe years. You’ve seen other people’s zines and thought “I could do that,” and then immediately thought “but what would mine even be about?”
So you do nothing. And the idea just sits there, judging you.
Here’s the secret: most zines start with absolutely no plan. They start with a feeling, a rant, an obsession with penguins, or three pieces of art that don’t fit anywhere else. That’s it.
what even is a zine, really?
A zine is just a little self-published thing. It can be eight pages or eighty. It can be about one specific thing or a chaotic collection of whatever’s on your mind. It can be art, writing, collage, comics, photos, or all of the above stapled together with pure spite.
The only rule is that you made it yourself and you didn’t ask permission.
That’s the whole point. It’s yours. It doesn’t need to be approved by an editor or fit someone else’s aesthetic or make sense to anyone but you.
you don’t need a concept, you need a starting point
Stop waiting for the perfect idea. Start with what’s already annoying you.
Are you mad about something? That’s a zine. Do you have a collection of drawings that don’t fit together but you love them anyway? That’s a zine. Did you learn something the hard way and want to save someone else the trouble? Also a zine.
Your first zine doesn’t have to be your life’s work. In fact, it’s better not to think of it that way at all. It just has to exist. It’s crudeness will be endearing when you look back 5 years from now. DIY zines love crudeness.
Pick one thing—one theme, one rant, one collection—and commit to 8-16 pages. That’s it. You can make something bigger later. Right now, just make something small enough that you’ll actually finish it.
the actual process (minus the perfectionism)
1. Gather your stuff.
Whatever you want to include. Drawings, writing, photos, collage, whatever. Don’t overthink it. If it feels right, it goes in.
2. Figure out your layout.
You can do this digitally (Canva, Photoshop, whatever) or by hand with paper and tape. Fold a piece of paper into a mini booklet and sketch out where things will go. It doesn’t have to be fancy.
3. Make the pages.
Create your content. Write your rants. Scan your art. Lay it out however feels good. Remember: this is a zine, not a thesis. Imperfection is part of the charm.
4. Print and assemble.
Print at home, at a print shop, or at a copy center. Fold, staple, or saddle-stitch them together. You can look up “how to fold a zine” for the classic 8-page one-sheet method—it’s absurdly easy.
5. Decide what to do with it.
Sell it online, trade it with other zine makers, give it to friends, or just keep it for yourself. There’s no wrong answer.
If you want more ideas on the process, I love the book Stolen Sharpie Revolution by Alex Wrekk.
why this matters more than you think
Making a zine isn’t just about the final product. It’s about remembering that you can make things without asking permission.
You don’t need a platform or a following or a business plan. You just need paper or a pen tablet and something to say.
In a world that constantly tells you to optimize, monetize, and professionalize everything you create, making a zine is an act of defiance. It says: this matters to me, and that’s enough.
So stop waiting for the perfect idea. Start with the messy one. Make the thing. Staple it together. Hold it in your hands.
You’ll figure out the rest as you go.
