Behind the Zine: A Handmade Space for Hope with Kristy Wessel
Finding Each Other Through Words
The idea started quietly, like many good things do, with a few writers in the Lit!Commons community talking about how disconnected we were feeling. From our creative work. From each other. From a sense that what we make might actually matter.
The teaching artist from the Networker pathway, Allison Wyss, encouraged us to wonder—what if we made something together? Something physical. Something we could hold, share, drop into Little Free Libraries, hand to a friend, or leave on a bench for a stranger.
That’s how Commoners Zine was born.
Someone Just Had to Start
Like any group project with no budget and lots of passion, we needed someone to get things moving. Kristy stepped in to help organize: posting in the Lit!Commons groups, reaching out to folks directly, sharing calls for submissions, answering questions, and encouraging others to contribute.
Meanwhile, Aimee volunteered to take on the production side. She experimented with Canva layouts, printed drafts at home, and brought them to our weekly meetings so we could see the pages take shape. Her printer got a serious workout.
The structure wasn’t formal, but it was enough to give us momentum. And momentum, we learned, was everything.
Starting Messy, Finding Motion
One of the most important parts of the process was letting it be messy. We didn’t always know what we wanted, but we knew how to respond when someone took a first step.
Title ideas were tossed around. Theme suggestions came and went. We didn’t always go with the first pitch—but without those early pitches, we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. Opinions were loosely held, and that was part of what made collaboration work.
We created space for feedback, but also made it clear that writers could publish their work exactly as it was—no edits required if they felt it was ready. The whole tone was: open, low-pressure, encouraging, and writer-friendly.
Taking It Into Our Own Hands
Many of us have submitted our work to literary journals or contests with mixed results (okay, mostly rejections). This zine felt like a different kind of opportunity, one we controlled from start to finish.
We didn’t need permission. We didn’t need gatekeepers. And we didn’t need to wait. We could print our words, share them, and get them into the hands of real readers.
Our favorite distribution idea? Little Free Libraries. There’s something so satisfying about placing a handmade zine next to bestsellers and weathered paperbacks and knowing someone might pick it up and see their world a little differently.
Finding Hope in the Making
Every meeting felt like a breath of fresh air. In a world that can feel relentlessly heavy—politically, environmentally, emotionally—this group has offered something rare: momentum, connection, joy.
It reminded us that we can make something. We can respond to the world with creativity instead of despair. We can put beauty and complexity into the hands of others—and we don’t have to wait for someone to give us permission to do it.
That alone felt like resistance.
Building Something That Can Grow
As we moved through the process, we started asking bigger questions:
- What kinds of content belong inside?
- Should each issue have a theme?
- Who do we want to contribute?
- What do we call ourselves?
- How do we handle posting content online?
- What page size do we want?
- Where do we want these zines to end up?
We didn’t have all the answers, and still don’t, but we’re finding our way. We also started a Bluesky account where readers can find us, connect with us, and maybe even contribute to future issues.
An Invitation
This is a story about building something from the ground up. About trusting each other to show up with what we have. About not needing to be perfect before we begin.
If you’re thinking about starting something like this in your own writing community, we hope this gives you permission to go for it. You don’t need a budget or a plan. You just need a few people willing to try. Check your local Little Free Library, or—better yet—make a zine of your own. We’d love to trade.