Twelve years later, I made $9.90

The zine 'scam'

Last week, I got an email that I was pretty sure was a scam.

It said I was owed $9.90.
All I had to do to claim it was send through my bank details.

Obviously, this is how people get robbed.

It starts off like they want to give you money, but somehow you end up giving them money ‘to verify the account,’ and then they take that money (and possibly other money?) and disappear.

But here’s the twist: it wasn’t a scam.

The email was from the Sticky Institute—a zine shop in Melbourne.
In 2013, I dropped off six handmade zines (photocopied booklets entitled A Cautionary Tale About Plastic Cups)… and apparently, they all sold.

Because I never filled out the vendor form properly, this fine institution had been trying (not very hard) to contact me—for twelve years.

So now, in 2025, I’m getting paid $9.90.

Great news obviously, but this little financial windfall made me think a little about myself.

Because I am pretty sure that if I’d found out those zines had sold back in 2013, I would’ve taken it as a sign that I was meant to be a zine-maker. That I was on the right, zine-centric path.

And if I’d found out they hadn’t sold?
I might’ve taken that as a sign too—That I should never write again. That a story about plastic cups was just *way* too niche.

But here’s the thing:
Six zines sold. That’s it.

It didn’t mean I was destined to build a zine empire.
It didn’t mean I wasn’t.

It just... was.

That objectivity is at the heart of neutral thinking:
Don’t assign meaning too soon—or at all.
Don’t let one outcome define your whole story.

You made a thing, you put it out there.
Then you make the next thing.
And the next.

This is something I talk about more deeply in The Inner Game of Writing—
a mini course I put together for writers navigating the mental/emotional side of the creative process.

If you’ve ever found yourself assigning cosmic meaning to every rejection (or even every win), or got caught in that weird cycle of hope → spiral → doubt → overanalyse → start again...

This course might land. (Check it out here if you’re curious).

Also, a big thank you to the mysterious Melbourne zine buyers for your $9.90–

I’m trying not to let it go to my head.

Me, elsewhere

‘The Girl Who Cried Bird’ (my book for children aged 9-12) is being launched in Melbourne on Sunday 4th May at 3pm by comedian Jack Druce.

I interviewed Jack for The First Time podcast last year and I’m thrilled (more thrilled than him, probably) he’s doing this event. Jack is funny and he’s thoughtful about creativity and humour in particular, which is about my favourite combination of things.

It’s a free event (booking details here), I would love if you could come.

Here’s some of what’s inside:

Image: Cartoon entitled ‘The Competing Expectations of Me Ice Skating’. Depicted is 1) I’ll be really good and 2) Someone will skate over my fingers and sever them off

Image: Cartoon entitled ‘fighting words’. Two people are speaking and each of their speech bubbles are stabbing the other person through the heart

Image: cartoon of a girl who has fallen asleep reading a book entitled ‘Never give up on your dreams’

Hope you’re living the dream

Bye for now,

Katherine