Ink & Identity

1. What Is a Zine and Why It Matters Zines are small, self‑published booklets or magazines that originated in fanzine culture of the 1930s and evolved through punk, riot grrrl, and activism scenes ( goodnotes.com , thecreativeindependent.com ). Rooted in DIY ethics, they reject mainstream publishing and celebrate raw, authentic voices—especially from marginalized identities ( goodnotes.com ). In today's age of algorithmic suppression, zines offer an unfiltered medium for voices erased online. As Wired notes , zines are taking the power back by refusing to be "platform-appropriate." 2. Zines as Identity-Based Storytelling A powerful feature of zines lies in personal narrative : they allow creators to craft intimate, niche, and vulnerable stories—whether feminist reflections, queer identity, neurodivergent experiences, or cultural memories . Projects like the Queer Zine Archive Project (QZAP) highlight how zines document LGBTQ+ histories, making marginalized voices...

Introduction The road to publishing is rarely easy—but for marginalized authors, it’s filled with additional roadblocks. Whether it’s the lack of access to networks or facing stereotypes that flatten your narrative, the barriers are real and exhausting. Representation in literature matters. Diverse stories help dismantle bias, open hearts, and create mirrors for readers who’ve never seen themselves in books. That’s why I’m sharing what I’ve learned from querying as a marginalized writer—so others can feel more prepared, less alone, and more empowered. Understanding the Landscape of Publishing A. Traditional Publishing 101 The standard route involves querying literary agents who then pitch your manuscript to publishers. It often includes a query letter, synopsis, and sample chapters. Rejections are common—even expected. B. Systemic Barriers in Publishing Marginalized authors face multiple challenges: Limited Access : Many lack industry contacts, mentorship, or funds for wo...

Beta reading is intimate work. For trauma survivors, neurodivergent creatives, and queer or marginalized writers, receiving feedback can feel vulnerable, even overwhelming. A well-meaning critique can stir up shame or trigger protective responses. But with care and intentionality, we can make beta reading a process of trust—not just productivity. This guide is for readers, writers, critique partners, and creative allies who want to make their literary spaces safer and more trauma-informed. Why Safe Feedback Matters for Survivors Beta reading isn't just an editorial step—it’s relational. Survivors of trauma may be hyper-aware of tone, power dynamics, and emotional undercurrents. Neurodivergent readers may process feedback differently, and LGBTQ+ writers often write from deeply personal truths. For these folks, feedback isn't just a technical exchange—it can feel like someone stepping into sacred, exposed terrain. The old-school “tear it apart to make it better” approach? That’s...

  Burnout isn’t just about writing too much. Sometimes, it’s about life. It’s waking up exhausted, not just from words—but from being. From carrying grief that won’t loosen its grip, from navigating trauma with no clear map, from surviving systems that drain more than they give. For marginalized writers—especially those who are trans, disabled, neurodivergent, or living at the intersection of many identities—this kind of burnout runs deep. And if that’s where you are right now, let me say this: you’re not broken. You’re tired. And you deserve to rest. You Don’t Have to Hustle to Heal The world will try to convince you that the only way back is to push through. To hustle harder. To keep showing up, even when your body says no. But hustle is not the answer—gentleness is. Let yourself begin again with softness. Don’t aim for a polished paragraph or a perfect plot twist. Aim for presence. Write one sentence. A single word. A thought, even if it’s jagged. That counts. You still count. R...

You don’t have to force your brilliance into a straight line. If you’ve ever opened a blank outlining template, stared at a rigid three-act structure, and felt like your brain was short-circuiting—you’re not alone. A lot of us were never meant to think in chronological order. Especially if you’re neurodivergent, in trauma recovery, or just not wired for formulaic plotting, traditional outlines can actually make storytelling harder, not easier. Here’s the good news: nonlinear storytelling is not only valid—it’s powerful. In this post, I’ll share alternative outlining methods that work with your brain instead of against it, plus real tools and templates that embrace flexible thinking.  Why Traditional Outlines Don’t Work for Everyone Most outlines expect a beginning, middle, and end—in that order. But many brilliant storytellers don’t think that way. If your scenes come in flashes, your character arcs unfold out of sequence, or you write emotionally before structurally, forci...

  There’s no easy way to talk about the space between queerness and faith—especially when it feels like standing in a burning building while everyone else calls it a sanctuary. For many of us who grew up Black, queer, and deeply devoted to God, the church wasn’t just a building. It was a lifeline. Until it wasn’t. This post isn’t about pointing fingers or demanding pity. It’s about making space for truth, for grief, and for the complicated holy tension between love and loss—between leaving what harmed you and still longing for what it promised. Fitting In Systems Never Built for Me When I was younger, I learned how to shape-shift. To pray the right prayers, sing the right songs, sit with my knees closed and voice small. I was praised for my "maturity," but really, I was surviving. Every part of me that didn’t fit the church’s mold—my gender, my desires, my neurodivergence—was folded, hidden, and locked away. The pain didn’t come from not loving God. It came from being told I ...