Ever dreamt of editing your own magazine? You probably already are

MUMISH - 13 Jul 18

A few evenings ago, my partner was engrossed in watching the golf on TV (something’s always open, it seems), so I took the opportunity to read a magazine. I say ‘read’, but in reality, only a couple of pages really drew me in (columns and opinion pieces – ALWAYS columns and opinion pieces). Disappointingly, the rest turned out to be of little interest to me (who-is-dating-who-but-then-again-might-not-be-after-all/Balenciaga jackets costing the equivalent of three months’ rent/holidays to spas in the Maldives that I’d wager don’t welcome grubby toddler hands/ recipes containing ingredients my local Tesco definitely won’t stock etc), and after fifteen minutes or so, the magazine was consigned to the recycling bin. It could have just been a ‘meh’ issue, certainly, but sadly, I’ve found this one in particular increasingly failing to tick my boxes and hold my attention.

Once-upon-a-time (admittedly, pre having small children), I consumed magazines with a hungry passion. I bought most of the big weeklies and subscribed to a number of the monthly glossies. I even worked for one for six years. It was part of my job to see what other titles were offering.

But print magazines have been on the decline for some time now. In a fast-paced digital world where we prefer – nay, demand – access to fresh, current content on our phones 24-7, people have chosen to buy fewer and fewer, with some – seemingly much loved – publications (LOOK, More and Zest – to name just a few), disappearing from newsstands entirely. 

This is a real shame, of course. Magazines can be an unparalleled joy. I have found myself reading features that were so beautifully, perfectly constructed, they seemed like they were written for me and me alone. I have cried both tears of elation and pain at a writer’s expertly crafted words. I’ve nodded my head furiously in agreement or shook it furiously in outrage. I’ve torn out articles and passed them onto friends because I knew they would resonate with them every bit as much as they did with me. That’s the the nature of really brilliant journalism and there’ll always be room for it.

I still have favourite magazines I imagine I’ll never fall out of love with. I’m probably just as loyal to Red as I am to my own mother. Reading it each month is almost an event; I savour every page, whether in the bath or in bed – always when I have precious time alone. Similarly, I am a huge fan of Stylist for its innovative and intelligent writing, never mind its work-of-art covers. And the Sunday supplements (from The Times and The Guardian especially) offer some of the best writing around.

But these are my fail-safes and stalwarts. My bread and butter reading. I know exactly what I’m getting. They won’t let me down. And that’s my point: I’m a busy, working mother with limited time and funds – if I’m going to shell out for the sometimes £5 cover price of a magazine, it has to deliver.

Because, you see, I’m already editing my own magazine every day. This one’s free. Ever-evolving. Constant. I’m curating the content; commissioning my own writers and photographers, hiring the fashion stylists, enlisting the beauty editors. And if you’re on Instagram, so are you.

Within these squares, you have the chance to tailor-make your content with the end result being a bespoke e-zine that’s right there, on your phone, available to access any time you like (which, granted, can be a curse as much as a blessing when it’s your kid’s dinner time and you’ve fallen down a scroll hole). 

For my own part, I like to follow sharp, thought-provoking writers, like @dollyalderton, @salihughes and @the_early_hour, and those included on @thepooluk (truly brilliant). I enjoy fashion accounts in which ‘real’, beautiful women wear clothes I can happily afford and have bodies I can actually identify with (@stylemesunday, @hannahfgale and @dresslikeamum). I want stories and captions to make me laugh out loud (@susiejverill, @scummymummies and @weeslice), self-deprecating mum bloggers that make me feel less shite about wanting to squash my own head into the Play-Doh tub (hello, @theunmumsymum, @parttimeworkingmummy and @steph_dontbuyherflowers) and easy recipes my kids won’t sneer and poke their finger at (@myfussyeater). I like women that are honest, BS-free and inspiring (@this_girl_is_enough, @inpolife and @candicebraithwate). I’m after excellent, tried-and-tested beauty advice (@thisismothership – though the ladies behind it, Sam and Gemma, offer far more than just that); interior porn (@pinkhouseliving and @_lisa_dawson_) and sometimes, just sometimes, cracking Philip Schofield memes (@schofieldreactions), because, well, why the hell not? And if I want a combination of all of these (minus Schofe, admittedly), there’s even the fortnightly, groundbreaking instazine from @selfishmother itself (I have no doubt others will follow suit very soon). Slick, concise, topical, but with all the boring filler pages taken out. 

But hey, that’s MY kind of content. Yours might be completely different. You might be partial to jaw-dropping photography or health and fitness gurus. Perhaps you like pictures of cute baby animals (don’t we all) or brooding shots of Idris Elba (again, don’t we all). Maybe it’s someone in the same profession as you, or who looks like you, or has a family set-up like you, with a budget like yours. It figures you want to see yourself reflected in your feed. Someone to be inspired by while simultaneously indentifying with. You’ll find it, I promise. You and you alone are responsible for what you see.

And that’s the beauty of being your own editor. Instagram gets a fair amount of flack – and no, it’s definitely not perfect (the algorithm is a shambles, quite frankly) – but as for the tired argument that some accounts can make you feel inferior, I say this: you’re not doing it right. 

Because if you don’t enjoy what you see; if it’s not relevant or simply isn’t doing it for you like it used to, just unfollow. It really is that simple. After all, you wouldn’t continue to buy a magazine that made you feel shitty and uninspired, and this is no different. Your feed should feed you. 

So, go – curate your own content. Create your dream magazine. Be the boss. But seriously, do check out those Philip Schofield memes.  You won’t regret it.

MUMISH

View profile for posts, events and more info