(Wow. I really like blue.)

When I decided my new project should be a zine a week, I didn’t set a deadline. I figured I could just get it done within seven days, put it out there whenever it was ready. I made two zines in May, and four in June, though three of those were in the second half of the month.

In July, I decided on a name for my project: Sunday zine. In July, I made four zines in four weeks, and already I feel better about this project. That’s the power of structure, a lesson I have to teach myself over and over.

July 5: House [buy print | buy digital]

A zine from a blog post that I never meant to be a zine. Sometimes you just write a bunch of words, and it’s only days later that you think, huh, that was pretty good. Also, because I was writing about printmaking, I had prints to go with my words. That’s a perfect zine to me.

July 12: Ship to Shore [buy print | buy digital]

As soon as my parents invited me to come along for a visit to see my great aunt in Sechelt, I knew I would make a zine out of it. Even though it was only a day trip, the ferry makes it feel like you’ve travelled far away from everything. I put this zine together on the Sunday after our trip, which is why I chose to handwrite the words. It just seemed like it would be faster. (It wasn’t.)

July 19: Be Like Finn [buy print | buy digital]

Another essay from a blog post, except this zine was already in the works. I wanted (and still do!) to write a second essay to go with it: about how Adventure Time is also a show for girls. But I had a friend coming to town that weekend, and I needed something quick and easy to go out on Sunday, so I wouldn’t be caught without a zine. The drawings were old, not made for the zine, but found in my sketchbook.

July 26: ONE DIRECTION IN ALL CAPS [buy print | buy digital]

The concert was on a Friday, but the zine had to wait until after Elisabeth went home. (She makes a cameo as EB, the only one of us not stuck in ALL CAPS.) Even as the Sunday zine becomes habit, I’m still surprised by those moments when I realise, oh, that could be a zine. Oh, I don’t have to write a whole essay about what it felt like being a thirtysomething on the floor at a One Direction concert. I could just copy and paste my crazed realtime ramblings. That can be art, right?

(Yes.)

The other thing I did this month was start a Patreon campaign. I’m still adding ideas and tweaking rewards, but you should check it out. It’s like a zine a week subscription, but even better!

It wasn’t until I drew next month’s calendar on my whiteboard that I realised I’m making FIVE ZINES in August. Damn Sundays.

I’m headed back to the Richmond Night Market this weekend to eat some deep fried things. Not for science, but for art.

JD 22:25 LIAM ASKED HARRY WHAT HE ATE TODAY BECAUSE HES OUT OF CONTROL

JD 22:26 A BABY BOY JUST HANDED HARRY A FAN SIGN

JD 22:26 THEN HE MADE A MIDDLE AGED COUPLE KISS

JD 22:27 THEN HE EMBARRASSED THEIR DAUGHTWR BY SAYING EMILY FHATS HOW YOU WERE MADE

JD 22:27 HOLY SHIT HARRY STYLES

ONE DIRECTION IN ALL CAPS is a concert report from a 33-year-old woman with floor seats. I’m printing this one in a rainbow of random colours because that’s what Harry Styles would want.

When I first watched Adventure Time, I watched five seasons in a row. And while I loved the show, I didn’t love how long I had to wait between episodes about Princess Bubblegum. But that’s because Adventure Time is more than just a cartoon. It’s a lesson for boys about how to be men.

This is a zine about what I learned and what I drew.

I just learned that Siri can append to notes, which is awesome, because taking notes while I’m walking is pretty much the only way I use Siri.

She’s having some trouble with dictation, though.

December 1999

I started keeping a notebook December 1999. I remember because on the very first page of that spiral-bound book–a lot like this one–I wrote my Christmas wish list. A notebook has been my constant companion ever since. It took me a year to fill one of these the year I went away to college (that nervous breakdown suddenly made more sense when I realised I wasn’t writing). I stopped for a while in 2008, after I graduated university, when I felt lost and unsure I had anything more to say.

My habits changed again with my first iPhone in 2010. What I used to write in my notebooks, I now wrote on Twitter, on Tumblr, even in the notes app. I didn’t have to save it for later. I could post my thoughts from the bus, from the concert, from the street. I needed paper less, but I still needed it. I used notebooks for specific novel projects, I filled an 8×10 sketchbook when I lived in Halifax, and I wrote diary-like entries in a Blueline dayplanner.

But then I came back to these notebooks. They’re all different sizes and colours. Some of them have lost their covers, pulled from the spiral binding after too many months travelling in my bag. They don’t fit nicely on a shelf. They don’t even fit in this box anymore.

This might make a more beautiful, more rebloggable photo if all my notebooks were perfectly rumpled Field Notes or easily stackable Moleskines. But then they wouldn’t be my notebooks. I was 17 in December 1999. I had just graduated high school, but not yet decided what I wanted to do next, only that I wanted to be a writer. I’m 33 now, and a writer is exactly what I am (though it’s not the only thing I am). This box is proof enough.