I learned to bind books at summer camp when I was nine years old. Surely an odd activity for children's arts and crafts, but I am forever grateful for the instructor's unorthodox choice. In the intervening years I attempted to replicate my camp creation, but, well-- the memory of a small child is not exactly the best source of detailed technical information. In the intervening years I 'bound' some blank journals but never undertook anything serious.
After a similarly long span of time, I returned to fanworks with a vengeance. These stories, now some of my favorite stories, only exist in the ether of the internet. I can't keep a collection on my selective bedroom shelf, readily admired and accessed, waiting to be read again and again and again. Sure, I could print the pdfs and put them in 3-ring binders, but they would never stand the abuse of repeated reading nor do they possess the aesthetic appeal of a bound book.
Scarif Sunrise, by davaia, is arguably one of my favorite stories on this site, and certainly among some of the most well-written Star Wars fics. Many of the works I love best are incredibly long, and posed a serious challenge for someone who had never imported text or created print layouts in InDesign. Scarif proved the perfect solution: weighing in at just over 13,000 words, not part of a series, beloved, and possessing great character.
Here is the finished product: Scarif Sunrise, Printed & Bound.
Text set in InDesign
Typeface: Minion Pro
Paper: Trash-tier Staples copy paper (yes I'm sorry I know I'm going to hell for this)
Binding Style: Saddle stitch, waxed linen thread
Endpages: Watercolor wash, matte sealer spray
Boards/Cover: Lampshade paper covered with brown cotton. Hand-lettering done with Jacquard Lumiere paint. Secured by wheat starch paste.
Brought to You By
Jimmy Buffet (click for umbrella drink vibes)
Why does the cover look kriffed?
Were I still in studio art courses, I would say the warping of the pages and cover was completely intentional. I wanted to make the project feel like it had actually existed on Qui-Gon's sunny front porch: exposed to Scarif's salty, humid ocean air.
Luckily for everyone involved, I am no longer taking studio arts.
The warping and bubbling of the cover was not done purposefully. It arises from my inexperience with the materials.
In the past I've only used found materials for book boards, generally paperboad boxes pulled from recycling. I wanted to use something nicer, and longer lasting, than a cereal box for this project. I found some lampshade paper in the basement, which was sturdy yet flexible. (Lampshades my Nan made over 40 years ago can attest to this.) I neglected to remember that paper has rather different properties than paperboard.
I also found the recipe for the bookbinding paste I'd used as a child. As rubber cement has been my adhesive of choice for the past six years or so, I'd completely forgotten that most liquid adhesives can cause paper to bubble.
So, the finished product looks as if it were dropped in a tide pool. I can't say that I'm pleased with the result; I do wish it looked crisp and professional. Yet, I'm not completely bent out of shape about it, because it does fit the aesthetic.
There's an applicable Qui-Gon-ism here, I'm sure of it.