Where It Starts
Every rebellion starts small. You don’t need a grant or a gallery to make something that matters. You don’t need the latest Adobe (fucking expensive) subscription, a brand colour palette, or even need a plan.
What you need: a printer that mostly works, a Sharpie that bleeds through the page, and a deadline that makes your hands sweat.
You need urgency. Frustration. Curiosity. A feeling you can’t shake that this isn’t working and maybe you’re the one who has to do something about it.
That deep, weird ache in your chest that whispers, “This isn’t enough and I can’t stay quiet anymore.” That’s where good work begins — in bedrooms and break rooms, on floors littered with paper scraps, in dreams that haven’t been marketed yet.
This isn’t a how-to for polished blogs or flawless posts. This is a manual for the kind of making that doesn’t require proofreading. And if all you’ve got is a printer, a Sharpie, and something to say? You’re already halfway there.
Find Your Spark (or Your Rage)
Not your influencer rage. Not your marketing rage. Your real rage — the kind that lives under your ribs and makes your eye twitch when you see the same lazy trend for the fifth year in a row.
That little snap in your chest when you spot injustice. The frustration that bubbles when you know something could be better. The giggle that hits you at 2 a.m. when you think, “Wouldn’t it be ridiculous if I…?” That’s your fuel.
Write it down. Scribble it on a receipt. Carve it into the corner of a page you weren’t planning to use. That spark — whether it’s anger, humour, joy, or confusion — is material. Don’t wait until it’s “valid.” It already is.
Set a Deadline
If you don’t, you’ll wait for the mythical “right time.” Spoiler: it never comes.
There’s only now and maybe 48 hours before you lose access to a photocopier. So pick a date. Put it in ink. Make it real. Bonus points if it’s inconvenient, like the night before someone’s birthday party you promised you’d attend. Deadlines work best when they make your palms sweat.
Urgency sharpens ideas. It pushes them past theory into practice. That nervous energy in your chest? That’s proof you’re moving.
Raid Your Supplies
You don’t need a studio. You don’t need funding. You don’t need anyone’s permission.
You need:
- A printer that barely works
- A Sharpie with attitude
- Paper (receipts, flyers, cereal boxes in crisis)
- Tape, scissors, glue, or spit
- A mind that hasn’t been fully domesticated
That’s it. That’s the starter kit. Everything else is bonus.
Design Like You Mean It
Forget templates. Forget clean design. Forget “aesthetic.”
Your job isn’t to be pretty. Your job is to be true. Handwrite headlines. Sharpie over printouts. Collage with chaos. Bleed on the page if you have to.
If it feels too polished, ruin it a little. Tear the edge. Spill something. Print it crooked. Your mess is your signature.
Make Copies, Then More
Make 10. Or 100. Or 7 because that’s all your toner will give you.
Print at work when no one’s looking. Use the ancient machine in the school library. Pay the overpriced print shop and enjoy watching them roll their eyes.
Let the toner smudge. Let the pages misalign. That’s not a mistake — that’s honesty. You’re not building a museum archive. You’re making proof that you were here.
Distribute Without Apology
Slip them into library books. Leave them in bathroom stalls. Tape them to telephone poles like it’s 1997. Hand them out at shows, protests, farmer’s markets, PTA meetings, or your aunt’s garage sale.
Don’t ask for permission. Ask for amplification. Get them into the world and let them travel without you.
Repeat, Loudly
A creative rebellion isn’t a one-off. It’s a habit. It’s how you unlearn compliance and remember you were never built to be manageable.
When the Sharpie runs dry, grab another. When the deadline passes, set a new one. Make another. Bigger. Messier. Funnier. Truer.
Not every page needs to be a masterpiece. Sometimes all you manage is a single scrawled sentence: I’m still here. That counts.
Bonus Round: Add Play
Yes, rage is fuel — but joy is, too. Don’t forget it.
Make something just because it makes you laugh. Print your friend’s worst text messages. Collage your grocery list with cut-out headlines. Draw moustaches on stock photos. Let yourself play.
The point isn’t to impress. The point is to keep moving.
The Manual, in One Line
Make it ugly. Make it fast. Make it now. Then do it again tomorrow.
Closing Rally
You’ve got the tools. You’ve got the itch. You’ve got something worth saying, even if it’s crooked, messy, or smudged.
This isn’t a one-time project. It’s a repeat offence.
Go again. Go louder. Go with joy.
Join the Creative Rebellion
Liked this Field Manual? Keep the lab lights on:
➝ Share your own creations — tag us so we can amplify.
➝ Submit your work to the Zine Shop and be part of the line-up.
➝ Support the store when it drops — every tee, patch, or kit fuels the next round of experiments.
➝ Tip the team directly through Patreon (link in bio) — even small support keeps Sharpies flowing, printers humming, and contributors paid.
Your attention matters. Your support makes it possible. Thanks for showing up.
AXO (she/her) is a multidisciplinary creator, editor, and builder of feminist media ecosystems based in Toronto. She is the founder of She Zine Mag, Side Project Distro, BBLGM Club, and several other projects under the AXO&Co umbrella — each rooted in DIY culture, creative rebellion, and community care. Her work explores the intersection of craft, technology, and consciousness, with an emphasis on handmade ethics, neurodivergent creativity, and the politics of making. She is an advocate for accessible creativity and the power of small-scale cultural production to spark social change. Her practice merges punk, print, and digital media while refusing to separate the emotional from the practical. Above all, her work invites others to build creative lives that are thoughtful, defiant, and deeply handmade.
