Richmond Zine Fest and let's not die trying!

I've been organizing events and other projects for more than a decade, but Richmond Zine Fest is my favorite. It's my adopted baby, and it raised me and vice versa. Thankfully I was able to cut my teeth in community engagement and cope with plenty of trials and errors from a very gentle and forgiving crew. Like the time I booked a very popular and problematically named band for a fundraiser during a year where the older organizers were burnt out and we were cash-strapped for our event space that year. It was a fundraising success, but I felt a little icky about it. Or the time I stayed up late creating cute table signs for the exhibitors and finishing my zines... only to wake up to several missed calls and my dear, sweet friend throwing rocks at my apartment window. I had overslept and the event had started, my carefully mapped out tabler placement and little signs with personalized notes and drawings be damned. The lessons being even if you need money, assess your values before booking shows, make sure everyone in the crew can access the seating charts and plans, and GO TO SLEEP.

I've slept more since 2020 than I have for most of my life. The pandemic marked a huge shift for a lot of people, and I've been no exception both personally and professionally. I pivoted from a career as a librarian into a field that applies my education and experience in a way I wouldn't have predicted before. And for the first time in 13 years, Brian (that's my numero uno collaborator and friend) and I put organizing Richmond Zine Fest on hold. Folks were pretty understanding that first year. After all, the library had paused all library programs indefinitely, and our once small festival of approximately 50 tablers had grown considerably over years to being two days of workshops, more than 100 participating vendors, and more than 1,000 attendees. Not to mention launching a print stipend program and other means of prioritizing marginalized creators.

For an event about DIY print media that mainstream publishers write about in shock that a zine community exists every 5 or so years, we were kindaaaaa a big deal (not to toot our horns or anything, but we were honored that our peers respected our efforts and wanted to learn from us). I received several messages asking when we were anticipating coming back or if we intended to host a digital zine fest of sorts while safe gatherings were ill-advised or nonexistent. The questioning filled me with anxiety because I was really enjoying the sleep and the pandemic is not over. The idea of a digital zine fest sounded unappealing to both Brian and I. We both looked at each other and as usual we were on the same page. (This is why we work so well together!) Rates of transmission remain high while mask-wearing is nearly where it was at before the pandemic. There was some discussion about maybe 2022, but I wasn't ready. I got covid for the first time this year and considered that a sign. So, what do we do?

We teased and announced Richmond Zine Fest 2023 after a long silence and quiet responses to messages here and there. It'll technically be the 14th annual three years late. Ultimately despite my wariness about what event organizing looks like in a pandemic, I finally felt rested and ready to try because IT AIN'T OVER (zine fest or the pandemic), and we have to keep on livin' as the Le Tigre song goes. Hopefully we'll make fewer mistakes after a restful hiatus and being so much older than we were, but we're definitely ready to keep on learning and improving our organizational ethos in this bizarre landscape.

The big room (just one of the spaces) we take over in the library on exhibitor day two.