When the time came to select a topic for my Zine, it felt natural to go with one of my quirkiest obsessions: The Lord of the Rings legendarium, and more specifically, hobbits. These quirky “little people” with an affinity for gardening, sleeping late, and eating large quantities at every meal have delighted and entertained me ever since I read The Lord of the Rings last year, and now that I am working on an independent study at school that looks at the possible influences of the 1918 flu pandemic on Tolkien’s fantasy universe, it felt natural to make the focus of my Zine something that is currently occupying the forefront of my mind. Could I have chosen a topic that lies wildly outside of my usual interests and preoccupations? Yes, most definitely (“Misinterpreted Text Messages” and “Silly Stuff My Supervisors Have Said” were also contenders). However, I kept thinking about Alison Piepmeier’s point in “Why Zines Matter” that Zines can both rework existing pop culture phenomenons and include personal narratives. Because The Lord of the Rings and its associated texts have attracted a large enough fan base to be a part of “pop culture,” I thought to myself: how can I express my own involvement with this immensely popular fantasy world and what it means to me? How can I address the sense of exclusivity that separates potential fans from already-existing fan communities by sharing my personal appreciation for hobbits with others?”
Then, “How to be a Hobbit” was born. It’s a silly little booklet with my personal tips on how people can bring a bit of the hobbits’ laidback, fun-filled lifestyles into their own lives, and it’s intended for anyone regardless of whether or not they have read the book. While there is comfort in creating a Zine for a limited audience—say, a group of friends who get all of your inside jokes—I wanted to create the “embodied community” that Piepmeier discusses by welcoming readers into the world of hobbits without expecting that they have any preexisting knowledge of The Lord of the Rings. I hope that anyone who reads this Zine will enjoy reading about hobbits for everything that hobbits can bring to our uptight, competitive world, even if they’ve never heard of a hobbit before.
As I went about creating my Zine, an enemy that has plagued me since childhood came roaring back: perfectionism. Seriously, it was like the demons that haunted me when I tried to make drawings of my favorite book characters as a kid were trying to ruin an interest that has just recently emerged in my adult literary life. The fun of engaging with hobbits was interrupted when I realized with horror that I had skipped right from “Number 3” to “Number 5” on my list of things a person can do in order to be more hobbit-like. The worst part was that I had written in pen…there was no opportunity to furiously erase my error and start again, which I certainly would’ve done if I’d had the option.
Piepmeier dubs “scrappy messiness” to be one of the most significant aesthetics in Zine-making. She explains that when a Zine-maker lets loose without any adherence to any norms that dictate where you should place art or how you should write, they are being vulnerable with their readers in a wonderful and challenging way. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to get there when I started my Zine. I wanted something “pretty” and “pleasing….”
Then, I remembered that hobbits don’t particularly care about “pretty” or “pleasing;” they care about comfort, and they tend to daydream enough to make errors like the one I made. Bearing this in mind, I added a “Number 4: Daydream so much that you forget how to put things in order.” By embracing my mistake and my messiness, I realized that I had actually come closer to my goal of sharing my powerful appreciation for hobbits’ quirks and flaws with other people. The Zine feels more “real” now, and my other mistakes (imperfect doodles, images that are too large for the Zine pages) only enhance the “hobbit aesthetic” of comfort, scrappiness, and imaginativeness.
All in all, I am thrilled with the way my Zine came out, and I am quite hopeful that someone who has never been a Lord of the Rings fan will find something to chuckle at. If I’d let my perfectionism win, I would’ve been trying to imitate the clean layout of a magazine or a book, and that type of layout can’t always accommodate the outpouring of raw energy a Zine requires (Piepmeier 222). If you’re interested in creating a Zine as a form of self-expression or catharsis, I highly recommend going for it! Pick a quirky interest of yours, grab some craft supplies, and feel free to color outside the lines as much as possible!
This is how I started making my Zine. When you put two little slits in the middle of a sheet of paper, the paper can be folded into a very nice little booklet shape:
Caroline,
What a beautiful meditation. “Zines can both rework existing pop culture phenomenons and include personal narratives” — I think this is something to hold on to as you move forward. It’s the recombination/reconsideration of the world around us, the conscious conversation-building of various personal and cultural moments, that leads to great and original editorial vision.
“an enemy that has plagued me since childhood came roaring back: perfectionism. ” — yes. It is an enemy. And, of course, an ally. But building the ability to embrace “looseness” when appropriate, to honor the rough sketch or the tangential (think about how we love to see and appreciate visual artists’ quick rough drawings!), can open you up. That missing number four… what an opportunity to think creatively about how to salvage it! Either by un-ordering the rest of the book, or by thinking about the symbolism of the number four and how skipping it might have communicated something, or… just being in the spirit of the hobbit, a bit less concerned with perfect than with being in the moment fully. Just as you do in the ‘Zine when you advocate for daydreaming.
Nice use of images (and the lighting is so beautiful!). I can’t wait to see it in my hand.
Liz