Queer Out Here Issue 01 was released in February. Woohoo! It’s been a really exciting project - starting from deciding to put it together, to creating the structure to support it, asking people to contribute, then working on the episode. My co-editor Allysse and I have each answered a few questions about the process so far - you can read mine below and Allysse's at Beste Glatisant.

Did you have any expectations for Queer Out Here - and how did they match with the reality?

​I tried not to have too many expectations, but I did have hopes!

I had no idea what kind of response we’d get to our call for submissions, so I was really happy with the number and range of pieces we received. We ended up with enough content to make a nice, fat Issue 01 - longer than I’d expected - with creative writing, sound art, conversations, field recordings and monologues/musings all represented. Overall, I probably expected more stories about specific events or activities, and possibly a few more essays/academic approaches to the theme, but it was a pretty good balance.

The process of putting the issue together was more time-consuming than I’d thought - but it was fun! Allysse and I spent a lot of time building the infrastructure and doing background work, chasing up submissions, choosing the running order, recording the links and transcribing. We’ve also learnt a bit about the technical side of things - especially the distribution of podcasts (or things-that-are-kind-of-like-podcasts).

​Are there any podcasts (or other media) that inspired you more than others for the creation of the zine?

The initial spark came from listening to the Tough Girl podcast by Sarah Williams and wondering if there was anything similar for queer/LGBTQIA+ adventurers (there isn’t, as far as we know!). Allysse and I didn’t have the time or energy to do weekly, long-form interviews like that, so we knew we'd have to take a different approach. We’re also both really interested in the more creative side of audio as a format, and from that perspective I took inspiration from the creative journals I remember from uni and the collaborative zines I’ve enjoyed or been part of since then.

When it comes down to it, we had a hankering for stories of queer folks doing stuff outdoors - we wanted something like this to exist, and sometimes if you want something to exist you have to create it (or facilitate its creation) yourself. And that is quite a zine-y attitude.

How did you go about organising the pieces into a coherent whole for the issue?

Ooh, this was interesting! Obviously, until we passed the submissions deadline, we couldn’t really decide on a running order. Once we had all the pieces, Allysse and I both went away and created our own track lists (I made some colourful spreadsheets, of course), then reconvened the following weekend to talk through our ideas. We’d independently come up with some of the same notions - like a preference for Adele’s piece coming first and Wendy’s coming last, and about the links between some of the pieces. A few pieces were harder to place than others - for example, Belinda’s poems are so powerful that we felt the piece following them needed give the listener a bit of space to come down.

Doing this was a bit like curating and planning an exhibition, with questions about theme, tone, format, creator and length all playing a part. We tried to mix things up - for example, not putting all the poetry, or all the American accents, or all the long pieces together - but we also wanted the zine to have a momentum, and to flow from one piece to the next rather than chopping and changing. In the end, we kind of created chapters within the zine, like rooms within a gallery - sections of about four pieces each, which we felt spoke to each other in some way.

What has been the most interesting thing about making Issue 01?

Is it a cop-out to say “the whole process”? Like I said above, we started Queer Out Here because we wanted to listen to something and we couldn’t find it - and it was exciting to learn that other people obviously wanted to share and listen to these stories, too. I loved hearing all the pieces that were submitted - the range of topics, the different styles, the personalities of contributors, all of it! Overall, though, project is something of an experiment, so I’ve tried to approach without too many preconceptions and it’s been wonderful to watch it take shape so far.

What has been the most difficult thing about creating Queer Out Here for you?

Luckily, we didn’t encounter too many snags and hitches. Sure, there were a couple of technical concerns, but overall I feel like the two of us - and various helpful friends - managed to sort them out.

The hardest thing for me, personally, was the process of approaching people and asking for submissions. I’ve never enjoyed cold calling, fundraising, and the kinds of things that mean asking people to do something for you. Although I am obviously invested in the idea of Queer Out Here, I still find the approaching-and-asking process rather anxiety inducing. Issue 01 features several friends and acquaintances, but outside of my usual circles I took quite a scattergun approach, which didn’t work so well. This is something I want to focus on for Issue 02 - finding new people and groups to approach, and doing that in a more personal way.

What are your hopes for future issues?

My main hopes are that people keep creating and submitting interesting pieces and that Allysse and I continue to enjoy working together.

As well as more of the kinds of audio we feature in Issue 01, I would like to hear from people of colour, from Indigenous people, from people in countries outside of the UK, Australia and the USA, from older folks, from queer families and youth. I’d like to hear music, essays and documentaries, pieces about sport (team, solo, extreme, everyday), epic journeys, cultural geography, homelessness, relationships, ecology and conservation.

One thing I loved about Issue 01 was getting submissions from people who hadn’t created much (or any) audio before, as well as from people who do this professionally. I hope that mix continues. It would be amazing to hear from previous contributors as they continue to explore the possibilities of the medium, too.

You can listen to Issue 01 here, and on iTunes, PlayerFM, Stitcher and a few other places. Let us know what you think! Submissions for Issue 02 will open in May 2018.

Look, it's another audio post. It’s almost as though I like the sound of my own voice. (I don’t, particularly, yet here we are again!)

If we’re connected on social media you’ve probably seen me mention Queer Out Here. (For good measure: Like our page on Facebook! Follow us on Twitter!) Queer Out Here is an audio zine that explores the outdoors from queer/LGBTQIA+ perspectives. I’m co-editing it with Allysse from Beste Glatisant. The idea is that queer/LGBTQIA+ folks create outdoors-related sound pieces and submit them to Queer Out Here, then we collate them into an issue of the audio zine. (What’s an audio zine? Think of it as a sort of cross between an art journal, a zine and a podcast.) We launched the Queer Out Here website and call for submissions a couple of months ago and I am super excited to hear what people create. (Fellow outdoorsy queers, please submit something! Deadline is 2 January 2018.)

Here was our initial mini-introduction and invitation to contribute.

And now, Allysse and I have recorded an interview with each other as a kind of pre-zine introduction, or Issue 00, if you will. You can listen to it here (includes content notes and links to transcript on Google Docs and as PDF.)

Click the button below to listen to Issue 00 on the Queer Out Here website.

I was nervous about recording this. I usually redraft my blog posts a couple of times and have Dan proofread them before I publish because I don’t like to make mistakes, say something that hurts other people, or something I’ll regret. So the idea of talking unscripted, then recording it and putting out there for everyone to hear - ugh! Add to that my self-consciousness about my speaking voice . . . Well, I almost didn’t do it at all.

“But, hey,” I thought, “If I want people to make audio for Queer Out Here - people who will also have their own hang-ups and anxieties about various elements of it - the least I can do is face my own discomfort.” And of course, it didn’t end up being as horrible as I feared. In fact, it was quite fun. As Allysse and I live in different parts of the UK, we played tag with questions and responses, recording our sections then emailing them over to the other person for their answers. I looked forward to hearing Allysse’s thoughts and the sounds of wherever she was recording. It wasn’t so bad doing my own parts, either, because I got to think about my responses before recording, make a mental (or written!) note about how I could answer the questions and re-record something if I stumbled badly over the words, or went off on a wild tangent or really couldn’t stand the way I sounded.

The interview is based around four questions:

• Does being queer affect your experience of being outdoors?
• How is your creativity influenced by being outdoors?
• What do you love about field recordings?
• What kinds of outdoor places are you drawn to?

There are things I wish I’d said, or said differently, or not said. I wish I'd mentioned that submissions can be about all kinds of outdoors experience, not just travel, nature, sport, etc. I wish I'd acknowledged that when "I grew up on the Snowy River" or "lived in Melbourne", this was on GunaiKurnai/Krowathunkaloong and Kulin/Wurundjeri country. There are moments when I cringe at my voice - and there’s nothing like transcribing yourself to, like, I guess, realise all your bad speaking habits, you know? But it is what it is. Hopefully it’s mildly enjoyable for other people.

So, please pop this on your listening device and let Allysse and me chat to you for a bit. Issue 00 comes in at a bit over 50 minutes, which might suit your commute, or perhaps you could listen while making dinner . . . or maybe it’s something that will send you to sleep.

We’d love to hear from you - about this interview (content or format), about ideas for your own Queer Out Here submission/s, about our RSS feed (does it work for you), about groups and/or individuals you think we should get in touch with. You can leave a comment here, or contact Queer Out Here on Twitter, Facebook or by email.

I liaised with the fabulous Lucy McRobert at the Wildlife Trusts and she sent me a list of activities, along with some instructions about the shape and layout of the cards. Other than that I was left mostly to my own devices, which suited me. It was a nice way of working, to be free to think about the story I’d like to create around the text on each card. Some of the pictures are straight up illustrations of the text, others work in tandem with the statements.

On the other hand, this freedom meant that when I got stuck with what to draw, it took a lot of thinking to get me out of my pickle - I didn’t have many pointers! But, as is so often the case with creative things, some of the pictures that puzzled me the most ended out being my favourite illustrations. I had a hard time figuring how to illustrate "Google wild facts" without just showing a person at a computer. Hopefully the end result, although slightly fantastic, shows how research can bring ideas to life, off a screen and into reality (or at least into imagination).

I was doing most of these illustrations in February and March, when it was cold and bleak and I was not surrounded by the flora and fauna of summer. This was one of the most difficult parts of the process. I couldn’t walk outside and think, “Oh, that’s an interesting flower,” and draw it. I had to try to remember what kinds of flowers or fungi or birds are around in June, then find images of them to work from - photos, diagrams, other illustrations. Inevitably, that meant I was limited to the things I could remember names for, or which showed up in my many Google searches on variations of “wildflowers in Devon” or “fungi UK June” or “summer migrant birds Scotland”. I also drew on the pictures I did during #30DaysWild in 2015, and on my photos from the last few summers, using them as inspiration.

(Incidentally, I just read this great conversation between Sarah Perry and Amy Liptrot at Caught by the River, which includes a discussion about the difficulties in writing out of season - I can relate!)

In terms of specific places, I worked from memory a lot of the time - not to create exact replicas, but to get the feeling of a landscape. In the "Meditate in the wild" illustration, the bay was inspired by the beach at Hastings or Bexhill (near where I live) looking towards Eastbourne and Beachy Head. In the sketch a wild landscape illustration, I drew on our walk along the Grand Union Canal. For other pieces, I looked at photos and films of relevant landscapes to try to create appropriate backgrounds. In the "Watch a wild webcam" picture, there’s an osprey in the foreground and a landscape inspired by the hills of midwest Wales in the background.

Interesting questions - though talking about “my process” makes me sound like I’m a pro, when I’m really not (this is the first time I’ve ever been paid to draw things, as far as I recall). As I said on Twitter, "Just have a bash at it!" is probably my first step.

All of the final images are black ballpoint pen on cartridge paper (sketchbook) - and a bit of whiteout, too! (That's Tipp-Ex or correction fluid to you.) There wasn’t a lot of reasoning behind that choice other than it’s what I had on hand when I began - and once I’d started I wanted to be consistent. If I did it again, I’d be interested to try out felt-tip pens. I knew the original images would be reduced a little in size for the cards, so I deliberately tried to keep them simple - lots of bold outlines, not too much shading. This also made them a bit like children’s book drawings, which appeals to me. I think Alison Lester’s artworks are gorgeous, and if my pictures captured even a little bit of the joy she is able to convey in her books, I’m happy.

For the first few images, I started with rough sketches and studies, but because pencil and pen are such different media (for me, anyway), I didn’t find that process very useful. As I continued, I tended to draw in proportions and light outlines with pencil and go at it with pen almost straight away. Some subjects required a bit more work, especially animals and people, where the proportions needed to be more accurate.

Keemun (Anhui Province, China). The leaves are long and rolled fairly tightly, so I let it brew for about 5-6 minutes – longer than usual – to give the tea time to unfurl and infuse. These leaves produce a gorgeous, warm, copper coloured tea (or ‘liquor’, as it’s known in the business), with a bright aroma and a lovely combination of bright, rich, floral flavours, along with a hint of smoke – but only a hint, as though my mouth is recalling the memory of smoke from a distant chimney, across frosty fields.

I bought it from Hazelmere Café & Bakery when we visited the Lake District a few months ago. I keep curving my focus back to this cup, the warmth against my hand, the smell and flavour, giving each sip my full attention.

Enough open-mindedness about milk in tea. If you are going to have milk in your tea, the tea goes into the cup first and the milk goes in last. This is an objective fact as verified by science and has nothing to do with cultural customs or personal preferences.  Here are my top tea-then-milk reasons, in order of importance:

• You have more control over the tea:milk ratio and are better able to regulate the tea colour. People can be very particular about this, as you will know if you've ever tried to make tea for an office full of tea-drinking colleagues.
• I don’t drink my tea from soft-paste porcelain on loan from the V&A (I wish!). Milk-first is allegedly a hangover from a time when teacups were so delicate they might crack if very hot liquid was poured into them directly.
• When using a teabag, the tea won't steep properly if the milk is already in the cup.
• The milk makes pretty swirly patterns. I like to drink art.

If you're interested in reading further and potentially discovering that my tea-then-milk answer might in fact be subjective opinion, heavily influenced by cultural customs and personal preference, the Guardian has more debate and anecdata.

I used to work at a lovely shop called Tea Party, at the Vic Market in Melbourne. We sold black, oolong, green and white tea, as well as rooibos, herbal and fruit infusions. You can still buy some Tea Party teas through Petal.

The top sellers were French Earl Grey (a black tea with bergamot, fruit flavours and rose petals) and Eastern Sunrise (a sencha flavoured with passionfruit, rose petals and marigold). Non-flavoured teas, such as Scottish Breakfast (a blend of African teas, if my memory serves me correctly) were also popular, but people often wanted to try new things or buy gifts, so they tended to go for flavoured teas. One of the silliest things I heard from a customer was that they would not buy French Earl Grey as a birthday present “for a man” because it had pink flower petals in it. I am not sure what effect they thought this would have on the recipient - maybe they thought he would lose Man Points™?