How Not to Make a Magazine: A Reflection

Every day was a different obstacle-- one day the software for my beloved wacom tablet decided not to work, the next my computer crashed every time I used the calligraphy setting on illustrator, and on the very last work day, we were displaced from our classroom. All three of these things caused the same dire issue: I actually had to work on our magazine.

I know what you're thinking-- Zoe, how on earth did you only mess around on illustrator for the entire semester? (Also, why are you using second person? Isn't that a no-no?) The answer to both questions is a lot of at-home work time and an extra period.

I have been into journalism for as long as I can remember. Everyone in my entire family has worked for a newspaper at some point in their life, so it makes sense that one of the first things I learned from my grandfather is that I was going to become an author no matter what . So when I entered high school, it was only natural for me to join newspaper. Little did I know, it also meant that I was going to be sitting in little portable 5A with the molding ceilings and a friendly man with a beard and an obsession with comic books sitting at a large wooden desk, watching us work and smiling when we made good decisions (like making titles Upstyle instead of dreaded Downstyle.)

I spend at least an eighth of my time in Mr. Garcia’s room, playing with illustrator and sometimes (sometimes.) working. I entered newspaper expecting to strengthen my writing and become a vintage journalist with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and a typewriter, dust beginning to coat the shoes in my closet. Little did I know, the most improvement I would see wasn’t in my writing (although there were major improvements there too), but in my art skills. I fell in love with Adobe Illustrate, each day in dusty 5B turning into a flood of color and design, shapes coming together to form composition after composition and again, creating a portfolio that I’ll hold close to my heart for the rest of my life.

So maybe I won’t become a writer like Grandpa Joe wants me to be. But my role in the journalism world remains, and I will forever cherish ink on my fingers from distribution day and the highly-coveted three letters FIN placed in front of the title of a story I’ve been working on for weeks. But above all, I cherish the color and personality that goes into the creation of every publication, making each unique and appealing in its own way.

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