OUT ON NEWSTANDS NOW, ISSUE 61!This issue features zines in education, heavy metal publishing, supervillian sisters, and the very necessary article by Laina Dawes on zinesters of colour speaking for themselves in an otherwise white-centric publishing sphere. Our cover features three of our W/QPOC friends from Toronto-based micropress, SEVER PRESS, illustrators Vivian Rosas, Sab Meynert, and Vera Black! Get the issue in your hands now, subscribe here!

OUT ON NEWSTANDS NOW, ISSUE 61!


This issue features zines in education, heavy metal publishing, supervillian sisters, and the very necessary article by Laina Dawes on zinesters of colour speaking for themselves in an otherwise white-centric publishing sphere. Our cover features three of our W/QPOC friends from Toronto-based micropress, SEVER PRESS, illustrators Vivian Rosas, Sab Meynert, and Vera Black
Get the issue in your hands now, subscribe here!


hoodieripper:

So, I made it through my first Toronto Canzine and it was awesome! I spent the days (and weeks) preceding it spazzing out and doing prep which, in hindsight, might have been a little excessive, but at least I’m ready for any small press expos that might spontaneously pop up in the next few months.

I ended up selling over 20 copies of my new zine, Singles (which is a collection of HoodieRipper short stories), and one copy of Molotov Hearts, so that was pretty rad. Honestly, I’m pretty thankful when anybody buys anything I’m selling in some kind of book fair context. I mean, you can look at a comic someone made and be like, “Well, the story might suck but the art is awesome,” but when you look at my book, it’s just like, “Well, you sure used a lot of words. Hopefully they’re in the right order.” So, thanks to anyone who took a chance on my stuff.

After I factored out printing costs and table fees and the cab ride home, I was probably at the break-even point, but I had to buy a copy of Liz Worth's new book PostApoc (a post-apocalyptic punk novel) and that sent me firmly (but happily) into the red. As if making money was my goal or something. Anyone who sells their shit at zine fairs with the intention of making mad stacks needs a hard smack upside the head.

Ultimately, a bunch of folks who had never heard of me before took a leap of faith on my writing, and I met a bunch of really cool people who make and do stuff. I’m very happy with how my weekend turned out. Thanks for the rad times, Canzine! I’m already looking forward to next year!

"cool human" Chris Eng had a good experience at his first Canzine. Short on cash, but got cool stuff and meet nice people. YAY!

hoodieripper:

So, I made it through my first Toronto Canzine and it was awesome! I spent the days (and weeks) preceding it spazzing out and doing prep which, in hindsight, might have been a little excessive, but at least I’m ready for any small press expos that might spontaneously pop up in the next few months.

I ended up selling over 20 copies of my new zine, Singles (which is a collection of HoodieRipper short stories), and one copy of Molotov Hearts, so that was pretty rad. Honestly, I’m pretty thankful when anybody buys anything I’m selling in some kind of book fair context. I mean, you can look at a comic someone made and be like, “Well, the story might suck but the art is awesome,” but when you look at my book, it’s just like, “Well, you sure used a lot of words. Hopefully they’re in the right order.” So, thanks to anyone who took a chance on my stuff.

After I factored out printing costs and table fees and the cab ride home, I was probably at the break-even point, but I had to buy a copy of Liz Worth's new book PostApoc (a post-apocalyptic punk novel) and that sent me firmly (but happily) into the red. As if making money was my goal or something. Anyone who sells their shit at zine fairs with the intention of making mad stacks needs a hard smack upside the head.

Ultimately, a bunch of folks who had never heard of me before took a leap of faith on my writing, and I met a bunch of really cool people who make and do stuff. I’m very happy with how my weekend turned out. Thanks for the rad times, Canzine! I’m already looking forward to next year!

"cool human" Chris Eng had a good experience at his first Canzine. Short on cash, but got cool stuff and meet nice people. YAY!


hetairos:

Canzine 2013 was a blast! We were the peeps right underneath the stairwell with the random plastic unicorn!

Glad that Melissa Chung and friends had a good time under the stairs at Canzine!

hetairos:

Canzine 2013 was a blast! We were the peeps right underneath the stairwell with the random plastic unicorn!

Glad that Melissa Chung and friends had a good time under the stairs at Canzine!


Molotov Hearts - Prologue

hoodieripper:

image

by Chris Eng, illustration by Karlene Harvey

For the third day in a row, Jenn stood across the street and stared. She was trying to be as nonchalant as possible about it, but wasn’t sure how well it was working, mostly because she was studying each of them carefully, in turn.

A couple of them were new, but several had been there all three days, and it was them she spent most of her time watching. There was the black girl with the foot high crimson mohawk who punctuated her conversation with vicious jabs of a cigarette. She’d worn the same denim skirt/vest combo every day and made it look like a uniform. The guy she was jabbing the cigarette at was average height but wide and beefy, hair shaved close, with a faded shirt for some band called the Cromags tightly adhering to his muscular yet slightly chubby chest. He looked Mongolian, she thought—he was certainly built like he was born to conquer Asia on horseback—and he grinned a lot. There was a blonde girl no older than her late teens wearing sunglasses and a black, one-piece dress possibly made by Prada. At her side she carried a Louis Vuitton handbag with an air which suggested she didn’t have time for knock-offs. She was talking to a woman in her early- to mid-20’s whom Jenn had dubbed Queen Bee, because if she wasn’t the Queen of this small community, Jenn wasn’t sure who was. There wasn’t anything specific in her appearance that led Jenn to that conclusion; she matched a pair of skin-tight, ripped blue jeans with world-weary black Chucks and a Black Flag “Jealous Again” shirt she’d cut a v-neck cut into. Her hair was greasy and dishevelled and she looked like she hadn’t had a shower in a week, but there was an air of control and authority coming off her as unmistakeable as Prada Girl’s grasp of fashion.

And then there was the boy ignoring them all, back to the wall, and reading.

He’d been reading the same thing every day—a huge, hardcover volume that looked like a textbook. She’d been trying to get a good look at the cover, but that hadn’t worked out well from across the street, so the day before she’d taken a picture of it with her phone’s camera and used every photo enhancement the internet could come up with to zoom in on the title. After a half-hour of work, she got it: An Introduction to Quantum Physics. This guy was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk reading a textbook on quantum physics for fun. Standing, he wandered over to Queen Bee and Prada-Girl. He was tall, almost a good foot above Jenn, maybe 6’5” or 6’6”, and gangly in an awkward but endearing way, like Joey Ramone. A mop of dark brown hair hung in his face, almost obscuring his eyes, and an all-weather navy RCMP coat hung limply from his shoulders. It was the beginning of fall and still kind of hot outside, so he should have been roasting in it, but he didn’t seem to notice. A pair of straight-cut black jeans complemented some worn but polished army surplus combat boots. He was laughing now and the sound of his laughter carried over to Jenn’s side of the street. It was a rich, full-timbred laugh and it had him going so hard he bent at the waist and put his free hand on one of his knees to steady himself. He was, Jenn thought to herself, probably the most intriguing, charming and goddamn handsome boy she’d ever laid eyes on.

But he belonged to the punks who hung in front of Pete’s Burgers, a group she had no connection to. She couldn’t talk to him, she could only watch him from across the street, letting the ache grow until she had no other option but to walk to the bus stop, turning her frustration over and over in her mind while she waited for her ride home, just like she’d done on the previous two days.

Click here for the next chapter.

As we are also a literary mag, we’d like to introduce you to Chris Eng! an indie writer currently living in toronto, he’s tabling with us for the first time, but will be bringing his very well received novel MOLOTOV HEARTS, known as the “most authentic punk novel” around these days. And we know it. 


roundletters:

Putting together a bunch of music-related zines for #NXNE’s #Canzine room. Check it out this Sunday @ 918 Bathurst! (at Toronto Zine Library)

nice! good to see more music-zines out there.

roundletters:

Putting together a bunch of music-related zines for #NXNE’s #Canzine room. Check it out this Sunday @ 918 Bathurst! (at Toronto Zine Library)

nice! good to see more music-zines out there.