Why I'm Publishing a Print-Only Monthly Photography Zine in 2025

In the spring of 2024, I finally overcame my overthinking and published my first photography and poetry book as an eBook. Light, cost-effective, eco-friendly. I was confident it would be a sure thing, at least to those who'd always asked when a book was coming from me. It wasn't. "We don't want this, we want the print book," they let me know. So I spent another two months making the print version. I nearly turned into a puddle when I first held the hard copy in my hands. It sold quite well and still outsells the eBook 10:1 to this day.

The warm response prompted a question that had been dormant for years: What was I doing trying to publish my personal work digitally, on rented platforms? I'm a filmmaker and photographer who got my first break as a contract photographer for The New York Times in 2011. I'm still at it nearly 14 years later. My visual and audio works have been published internationally, but someone else has always controlled how the final piece was presented to the world.

The question hit deeper when I considered my own experience with emonome, which started as an outlet for my multi-hyphenated mind, as a blog in 2005—first on Blogspot, then Wordpress, then Squarespace. I wrote thousands of posts across those platforms over 19 years. Most have disappeared into the maze of "upgrades." The tragedy does not include the various other online pubs I've contributed to that have either gone behind paywalls or vanished entirely.

emonome's rebirth as a physical zine in the fall of 2024 ended that cycle of digital loss. Ten 40-page issues published so far, each weaving together my photographs, poetry, fiction, and illustrations around a single theme. Issue No. 11 launches next week. No. 12 is in the works. Deadlines fuel my creativity, and I pour everything into each monthly issue. It shows.

While many questioned launching a zine in a "dying" industry, most have cheered me on. A friend recently likened experiencing my books and zines to sitting down with an album. I love that! Sometimes you need to hear the sound of an image as your fingertips caress 80T satin paper. No algorithms, no gatekeepers, no wars with pop-ups and dings.

Just the work.

And whoever wants to sit with it for the first time, return to it, or pass it on.