How to Start Your Own Zine
by Mitchell Greentower
illustration by James Corwin
A lot of people in North Jersey ask me how it is that while other ‘zines struggle to survive their next and previous issues, we at Slaves of History order take-out from only the finest pizza establishments. Our telephone and other utilities are rarely if ever shut off, and our rent is frequently paid by the twelfth or seventeenth of the month.
How is it that none of our full-time staff (me) has filled out an application to work at 7-Eleven recently like some no-account full scholarship Juilliard School of Music wretch?
How come at least two staffers at Slaves of History reportedly enjoyed full-fledged sexual intercourse in January without resorting to pitiful whining, when publishers at other ‘zines are still picking up their free copies of the high-fashion publication Stiff for the hot parts?
Competition is supposed to be the hallmark of capitalism. Yet it seems we at Slaves of History spend half our time on the telephone talking with other ‘zine publishers, who ask us to share our secrets with them.
Finally, I said to these publishers one and all: “Look, don’t get your flaccid tats in an uproar. I’m going to share our secrets in the next issue of Slaves of History, and allow any and all ‘zines to republish it as they see fit. Let a thousand desktop flowers blossom. We can wither on the vine together, or we will surely wipe out, while channel-surfing local cable separately.
Let me start by saying, things have not always been so rosy for me. I first began The Icarain, a ‘zine “by and for people who do only what they feel like and only when they feel like it,” which was a monthly, er, bi-monthly, er, irregularly published ‘zine that went belly-up after the editor’s mother needed the computer to retype her resume and then took off to Albuquerque with her new boyfriend and the computer. Thanks a lot, Mom.
But as Nietzsche said at some point before he lost his mind: “That which doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.” So I started again, and here I am today, the owner/operator of the largest ‘zine in the whole quad-city North Jersey area.
The not-so-awful secret is “ad sales.” This may put off some. But it’s really not so different from hustling retired New York transit workers during the summer on the Jersey Shore. By the Fourth of July, it seems almost normal, and by Labor Day, donning a paper hat for 40 hours a week behind a counter at Taste-T-Freeze looks damned peculiar by comparison.
The first rule of ad sales is that all retailers are pussies. That goes for restaurant owners, too. Except those who don’t speak English, and you can’t sell them an ad anyway because they pretend not to understand what you’re saying.
Think about it. Why would someone who speaks English, and has the brains and drive required to run a store or restaurant, do something so foolish when they could start a ‘zine instead?
Answer: Job security. Practically 20 percent of them are still in business five years after first opening up – a much higher survival rate than in the world of ‘zine publishing. Want to make a banker chortle? Yes, it can be done. Tell one you want a small business loan to start a publishing venture. When he finally stops laughing, he’ll wipe the tears from his eyes, hand you a business card and say, “Keep us in mind if you ever decide to open a burger joint.” Fat chance.
As my father said to me on the occasion of my 18th birthday, “You’re on your own, kid.” As a ‘zine publisher, so are you. And ad sales spell the difference between swimming from one profitable issue to the next, or sinking back into the murky depths of pretended normalcy.
The local merchants are the place to start your ad sales drive. Full page, full color ads by Absolut will come later. I hope. Convincing one of these small business types is a breeze once you learn a few simple psychological tricks. You can almost see the gears working in their transparently simple skulls.
One of my favorites is known as the principle: “feel, felt, found.”
Let’s say you go into a condom store. Face it, a guy would have to move a lot of weenie-shaped sheepskin to make his ad worthwhile. But that’s his problem, not yours. Your printer probably has hungry mouths to feed. And he can probably be a mean prick when that postdated check you gave him bounces because the hoped-for emergency funds from Albuquerque never arrived. (Thanks Mom.)
Now let’s say the aforementioned Trojan vendor responds to your sincere overtures: “Ad rates? We don’t need no stinking ad rates from YOU, hoser. Get lost.”
Do you shrivel up into a chilly ball of leftover General Gao’s chicken, and wonder if your baby sister, the one who did her math homework and now makes 50K a year as an actuary at an insurance company, can get you a job in customer service there for $300 a week?
Of course not! Instead you reply calmly: “I know how you feel Mr. Jones; Mr. Feld of Feld’s Felt Emporium felt the same way. But then I described to him the many trampy woman who read Slaves of History. And how, when they saw his ad, they would run right over to check out his wares. And how he could then check out their wares as well. He made out a check for 100 dollars U.S. right on the spot! Mr. Feld felt it was a real bargain and I’m sure you will too.”
It’s also most important to maintain a positive attitude no matter what. Suppose you couldn’t convince the gas company that although you’re not over 65, having an obsession about running your own publication should really qualify as a handicap. Suppose they shut off your gas and now you don’t have any hot water to bathe your weary hide. Is this a problem? NO! It’s an opportunity to be creative.
Simply wait until you work up a really good stench and then begin canvassing a high-priced retail area. Refuse to remove your odiferous underarms from stores until the proprietors take out an ad. No discounts. As a last resort, if they try to wriggle out of it, utilize what’s known in the trade as the “honey close.”
Rub honey in your hair and pull out a glass jar of fleas. (You can get all the fleas you want from almost any pet store – in trade – in exchange for a quarter page ad, although you’ll probably have to catch them yourself.)
Begin slowly opening the jar of fleas in full view of the store owner. This sales technique should get the check book out in a hurry. You don’t need to carry several jars. Drawn by the honey, most of the fleas will follow you to whatever sales calls you have to make for the remainder of the day.
If you’re really feeling confident, make the store owner write out ten checks for ten dollars, instead of one check for a hundred. This should dispel any nagging worries you might have about a stop payment on the check. You can’t trust anyone in this business.
No doubt you can come up with ingenius sales gimmicks to call your own. A couple months of selling ads and you’ll be forever free from those primitive urges of tribal shamanism and of all your fuzzy notions of artistic fulfillment. That you can leave to weaker mortals as you sate yourself on the stealthy pleasures of the chase and the kill.
When you get right down to it, an artist is just an ad salesman with no balls. One who needs your protection from the slow crush of anonymity. Happy hunting, warrior brother!
To be continued at some point
For more information on how to start your own ‘zine, or to join the ‘zine publisher’s support group, contact Mitchell Greentower c/o Lollipop Magazine. His direct line is a 900 number. Ed
