Four years ago, I started a project to make a zine a week. I called it Sunday Zine, because I knew I would need a deadline to keep me on track. I made 50 zines that yearāsome of them are now part of my greatest hits. But when I reached the end of that project, I didnāt want to make another zine.
Honestly, I didnāt want to make anything. I didnāt want to write. I didnāt want to blog. I stopped reblogging and tweeting. I had a day job that was paying my bills, and I had moved out of my parentsās house. And if being an artist hadnāt happened by now, maybe it was time to give up.
That lasted about two months. š
The last time I sent you a letter was six months ago. It was just before I left for the XOXO Festival in Portland. On the Friday before the talks started, I sat in the co-working space in the same building, with my laptop, and I wrote the beginning of a letter I never sent. Today, I donāt remember exactly why I didnāt.
I did a lot of zine shows and art fairs last year. I tabled in the heart of the West End, at the flagship Broken Pencil show, in the Artist Alley in my rec centre parking lot. I even took the bus to Olympia for my first time at their zine fest.
And nothing seemed to work. I ended the 2019 season deep in the red. I couldnāt even sell enough to make up the table fees. This time, though, I know giving up art isnāt the answer. I donāt want to give up writing this time. I have to try something else.
Luckily, Iām a generalist. š
My dream has always been a little shop. A physical space where I could host readings, hang art, sell books and whatever else was my obsession at the time. My dream was always that the contents would changeāwith the seasons, with the weather, with my whims.
Physical space is expensive, even moreso here in the suburbs of the most expensive city in Canada. Even with my small windfall of inheritance last year, I couldnāt find a retail space that I could afford (we need the tiny house movement for retail!)
But let me tell you about my 2020 project. š„
Starting May 3rd, and twelve more Sundays until October, Iāll have a booth at my local farmerās market. (At this time, Iām assuming it will go on as planned; of course, this might change š) That booth will be called All Day Breakfast, where Iāll sell zines, of course, but also sea saltāmade from water collected from my local beachesāand sourdough starterādried for bakers to start their own. This venture feels like the culmination of my two big dreams: writing and baking. I couldnāt make one or the other work by themselves, but maybe, by bringing them together, All Day Breakfast will be stronger.
š³ For now, you can buy these provisions online.
In 2019, I pushed myself out of my emotional and physical comfort zone. In 2020, Iām staying close to home, so I can dream even bigger. For 13 Sundays, May to October, Iāll be testing, iterating, baking, and writing to find my niche. In 2021, perhaps Iāll find my little shop.
Stay tuned for reports from the market, and if youāre close by, Iād love to see you there. Iāll save you a loaf.
Thanks,
Jess
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