Idea
On one of those gloomy days when my brain insists on going philosophical, I had a short talk with myself, concluding that I either need to get better at responding to people...or start a new project.
The thought stuck with me. As we grow older and scatter far away, chasing jobs, starting families, or exploring the world, staying connected gets harder. Even birthdays, which should be the easiest time to reach out, can pass by unnoticed. Sure, there are endless apps and social platforms to send a quick "HBD," but many of my loved ones avoid them entirely due to age, fear of addiction, discomfort, or simply a preference for life without constant pings.
So I started wondering: is there a slower, more intentional way to remind people how loved they are? Something that might inspire them to make more time for each other.
Design Process
That spark led me to explore how design could bridge distance and bring back intentional connection. I envisioned a subscription-style zine that transforms birthday surveys into keepsakes, part love letter, part family artifact.
To test it, I designed the very first issue for my sister. My process included:
Content Gathering – drafting fun and personal questions, creating a submission form, and testing how different types of contributions (notes, doodles, photos) could fit into a publication format.
Design System – establishing a flexible grid and typography system that could handle wildly different inputs (poems vs. snapshots vs. inside jokes).
Constraints – quickly discovering that unlimited word count and image sizes turned into layout chaos. Instead of restricting midstream, I embraced the abundance and leaned into a collage-like aesthetic.
Outcome:
What began as a small, 8–12 page zine grew into a book-length keepsake filled with heartfelt notes, doodles, and family humor. Though the layout is intentionally imperfect, the emotional impact was undeniable. My sister received a one-of-a-kind birthday book entirely made of affection.
Next Step:
I’m refining the submission guidelines (word count, image resolution, page limits) and evolving the visual system to balance playfulness with readability. With several family birthdays coming this winter, I plan to continue iterating until the zine feels both sustainable and scalable.
Who knows? The B-Day Zine may stay a personal tradition, or it may grow into something others can share with their loved ones, too. For now, I'm just happy knowing my sister will soon have a one-of-a-kind book made entirely of affection.
