Two Copies Sold

Yesterday was the Miami Zine Fair.

I had worked very hard to finish my fanzine in time, to have it sitting on a table, out in the world, for people to see.

I finished it on Friday around 11pm and went to sleep excited. Excited to finally show it.

Saturday morning, I woke up around 8am. I made myself a hot chocolate instead of coffee so my energy would feel more steady. I sat on the couch to watch TV for a while. The fair wasn’t until noon.

At 10am, I was still there. Unable to move.My body felt heavy, as if it belonged to a different timeline than the day I had planned.

By 11:30, I told myself I would just be a little late. I’m probably tired from working so much these past few days.

I went to the kitchen to make eggs while listening to The Women by Kristin Hannah. I’ve been listening to it for the past couple of weeks and feel deeply connected to the story. At one point, the main character’s mother has a stroke, and she is in the hospital taking care of her.

I remember hearing that part while driving a few days ago. I had to pull over because I couldn’t stop crying.

Yesterday, the story continued. They described a patient dying of lung cancer: the oxygen machine, the open mouth, the dull skin. All things I remember too well from my mother’s last days. It hit me like a brick.

I showered slowly. Put on comfortable jeans and a slightly dressed-up shirt. I wanted to look somewhat professional at the fair.

From pictures, I had seen that most people there were very young, almost teenagers. I didn’t want to blend in. I wanted to look like I’m in my forties.

There’s value in that.

In everything I’ve lived.

Before leaving, I walked my dog and ran into a neighbor. We talked about my father’s recent birthday, his first without my mom. He asked me how I was holding up. I told him some days are better than others. And that today wasn’t a good one.

My eyes filled with tears. I tried to wipe them quickly so I wouldn’t ruin my makeup, but they came faster than I could catch them. He went to his car to look for tissues and came back with what turned out to be a pack of white face masks. I used one anyway.

We kept talking. I calmed down. Then I went upstairs, left my dog, grabbed my purse, and left.

Traffic was heavy. I arrived around 2pm. My friend Corinne was meeting me there.

I wasn’t prepared for how crowded it would be. The space felt loud, packed, almost overwhelming. There were so many people it was hard to move, hard to see what was on each table.

I walked around once, quickly.

Near the end, I saw the table where my fanzine was supposed to be. I introduced myself to the girls I had only spoken to by email.

At that moment, Corinne arrived. I felt safe when I saw her.

I hugged her, and my body broke. Tears came out in a way that changed my breathing, made my whole body shake. She held me and asked if I wanted to step outside. I said yes.

On the way, we passed the bathrooms and went in. I peed, blew my nose, and told her it had been a strange day, that I didn’t understand why I felt this emotional.

She told me I didn’t need to understand it. That there was nothing wrong with it.

We went to get coffee and came back when I felt calmer. This time, we walked through the fair slowly. We stopped at the tables. Looked closely.

There was so much creativity, so much effort. So many beautiful things.

When we got back to the table where my fanzine was, two copies had sold.

Two people had chosen it.

Out of everything in that room, they chose mine.

They chose me.

Making Progress

Yesterday I worked for eleven hours coloring the fanzine. I only stopped to warm up food, eat, use the bathroom, and in the afternoon, to take a shower.

My husband took care of the dog and helped in any way he could so I could keep going. So I could have it ready before April arrives.

April arrives tomorrow.

I now have three subscribers who joined from my Instagram stories. My heart warms every time I think about that.

Seeing the images filled with color yesterday felt bittersweet. It’s taking form, and the more it does, the more I wish I could show it to my mother.

She would love it.

While I was coloring, I listened to The Women by Kristin Hannah, a beautiful audiobook my mother-in-law recommended. It follows a nurse in Vietnam and what comes after. A story of strength, emotion, and grief.

I cried a few times.

There were moments when it felt like we were all grieving together, the characters, the story, and me. While, at the same time, a fanzine was quietly taking shape in my hands.

Around 9pm, I stopped.

I finished four of the six full pages that will later be folded into a twelve-page booklet. My goal is to complete the remaining two tomorrow, make the copies, and ship everything before the end of the week.

This morning, while my husband and I were having coffee, I was scrolling on my phone when something caught my eye:

Miami Zine Fair.

I read it again.

Miami Zine Fair.

I couldn’t believe it.

It turns out there is a Miami Zine Fair — this Saturday.

A few weeks ago, I attended a Poetry Club, and the host is involved in the fair. That’s how it appeared on my feed. By chance, or something like it.

And then something even better: one of the exhibitors, Pana Mia Club, is offering to display printed zines at their stand.

I sent them a message asking if I could send mine, or bring some in person.

I haven’t heard back yet. But I already made plans with my friend Corinne to go.

Later, at work, I started researching other zine fairs across the country. There are so many. And — somehow — there’s even a zine store here in Miami! Very close to my house.

I couldn’t help but feel that all of this is a kind of signal from my mom. A small, quiet confirmation.

As if she were saying:

Yes. I love it. I’m here for it.

A Fanzine Is Born

From Google:

A fanzine (short for “fan magazine”) is a non-professional, self-published booklet produced by enthusiasts for others who share a specific interest. Originating from science fiction fan communities in the 1930s–40s, they feature DIY content—like articles, fiction, and art—and are usually photocopied in small print runs.

Well…

Today, March 22, 2026, my fanzine Letters From Miami was born.

It’s not a finished product yet, but I’ve completed the drawings for the first two pages, and I can already see that finishing the rest won’t be difficult. I was worried about my drawing skills, given that I haven’t drawn in years, but it seems to work like driving or riding a bike—once you’ve done it enough, it comes back naturally.

The idea came to me after seeing fanzines in Buenos Aires with my friend José Manuel. We talked about creating one together, but when I returned to Miami, I felt something was missing. Miami deserves its own fanzine—something underground and artsy that represents another side of the city, one that highlights places we might take for granted but that are actually full of charm.

The first issue is about Dogma, a fast food restaurant near my apartment. I don’t go often because it’s fast food, but when I do, it never disappoints. I like it because it’s dog-friendly—and it was dog-friendly before that became the norm. It’s casual, and you can build yourself a full meal for around $20, drink included.

There aren’t many places in Miami that keep things this simple.

The goal of this project is to make Miami less fancy and more fanzine.