When I look back, I realise I have always been fascinated by newspapers and print. When I was 12, I used to buy The Daily Mirror from the newsagents at Stockport Bus Station on my way to get the 192 bus to school. From there, I would take it to my form room and read it until registration. Others in my year would come into the room and think I was odd for reading a newspaper. I shudder to think what they would have done were I reading The Guardian.
Although saying that, there were times when I would buy a copy of The Daily Telegraph (although that was to do with checking my fantasy football scores). I can imagine that looked odd. But this was when the Internet was a thing desired rather than needed, with its penny a minute after 6pm offers and free AOL discs that are now taking up large spaces in landfills across the country.
I eventually stopped buying newspapers not because of the Internet, but because I began delivering them. In the mornings I'd deliver everything from The Daily Sport - a particularly enjoyable read for a teen well into puberty - to The Independent; from 'reading' about Lolo Ferrari's breasts to understanding the arguments for and against the Euro. In the afternoons it would be the Manchester Evening News and at weekends it would be a mixture of the two.
There are three things I remember vividly from doing my paper round. The first is delivering the MEN's daily sports pink; a separate sports newspaper not only thrilled me, but the fact it was pink used to make me smile. The end of the pinks wasn't appreciated when I was younger, being ignorant of their history and symbolism, as well as people’s attachment to them, aged 14-16.
The second thing is delivering the immediate editions of The Mail on Sunday and The Observer after the infamous Brass Eye paedophile special. I wasn't hugely versed when it came to ideologies of newspapers, but that Sunday morning was an education easily worth more than the £9 I'd get every week to wake up at 6am every morning and deliver them.
The third and final thing was arriving home from my afternoon round on September 11, to see the World Trade Centre being destroyed. The morning after the night before, and seeing all those front pages, made me fully realise the powerful and everlasting nature of the front page. From that morning, I began collecting front pages and momentous editions of various newspapers.
No to Spreadsheets, Yes to DTP
I had been considering creating a “quarterly independent publication” for some time, and this idea began to seem like a necessity late last year. I had come off the back of a journalism degree and headed into working with spreadsheets inside a school five days a week. Despite having some success writing for When Saturday Comes (the best football magazine available in my view and a big influence on me), I still felt I was not doing as much writing as I wanted to. To be blunt, I don’t have the stomach to be a freelancer and I don’t want to take orders from people above me. Plus, there was a real possibility that I was going to spend a large portion of my life dealing with spreadsheets and Excel formulae. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
It wasn’t until about April of this year that the final urge to begin this quarterly independent publication came to mind. It was on a Sunday afternoon and I sent a Facebook message to numerous friends pitching for contributions.
I was firstly careful that the pretentious sounding “quarterly independent publication” wouldn’t be called or categorised with ‘zines, particularly those exclusive to a particular audience. Rather, I wanted something that, to a point, could represent not only my varied interests, but the variety you'd find in a paperboy's delivery bag - except without the breasts and the outright right-wing horror. I wanted to create a “catch-all publication”, where there would be at least one article someone could enjoy, covering current affairs and arts right through to technology and sport.
I also wanted to try and bring an intentional look of professionalism: for it to deliberately look like it had been designed in a desktop publishing [DTP] program rather than hand-drawn, cut and pasted – or appear to be so.
The feedback I got was encouraging. Within a couple of weeks, I had a bank of good and versatile writers to rely upon, all with a range of interests and ideas: from music production and a love of the Bee Gees to a betting column and writing about tickets touts.
I then thought about a name. Thinking back to the Facebook message, “catch” seemed appropriate. I also discovered I had the font used by British Rail on my laptop. Using that in the logo amused me somewhat and seemed very fitting.
Finally, there was the issue of what form it would be printed in. I obviously wanted to stay away from the ‘zine type, A5 publications, but I was also conscious that I needed to make Catch online friendly in some way.
I have never been a huge fan of blogs – ironic since you’re reading this on one, albeit a very good one – because they can seem very transient and effortless. I speak from experience. I was conscious that I didn’t want the content of the ‘publication’ to eventually end up as blog-looking posts when eventually put online.
The Future of Print
I came across a website called Newspaper Club, based in London. Their aim is to give people the opportunity to not only print their own newspapers, but to show that print as a form can thrive in a now largely digital culture. Perfect. Catch would be a newspaper. Perfect for the deliberate DTP aesthetic I wanted.
It also linked well into the website, which would differ further from the blog-style many news websites now adopt. It would be very simple and consist mainly of an embedded PDF reader, with the newspaper there to read and enlarge full-screen. This is not online content, but online print.
But still, why a newspaper?
Firstly, as you have probably realised, I have a sentimental attachment to, and fascination with, newspapers – but I believe others do, too, when there is quality, originality and aesthetic appeal.
I hope Catch achieves this not only through the mixture of writing, but also through the artwork: Catch’s writers are complemented by a bank of highly talented illustrators. The front pages of the first two editions are eye-catching and memorable, worthy of being appreciated in their own right, worthy of someone’s time.
The ambitious aim is that, rather than being disposable, I want people to savour each edition in some way: to show how the newspaper and print media can be more than a cheap, throwaway thing. Much like my collection, I suppose. From those who have bought a copy – yes, bought, not been given – this has worked so far, with comments praising its design and overall quality. The narrative of the newspaper, from current affairs to sport, also lends itself to having a product that contains a variety of content.
Secondly, I want to try and fuse print and the Internet in a much more harmonious way, not taking away the joys of print by simply having a block of text on a screen or on a smartphone, but interacting with print through a different means: in this case, through the embedded reader on the website and Catch for iPhone. The newspaper form allows me to do this. I don’t want the Internet and print to compete in the way they so often do now.
Finally, Catch is a personal experiment: to see if I can lead on a project, inspire other ambitious writers and illustrators to get involved through providing an opportunity to have their work shown in something professional, and to see if it can grow from there. Like When Saturday Comes, 25 years on.
On a personal level, the effects of Catch have already been positive, with it providing a fantastic example of leadership when I was recently accepted onto the TeachFirst scheme: finally away from Excel spreadsheets, several hours a day. I want others to gain just as much from contributing as well.
Catch is getting there but there is still a lot to do, notably on promotion and getting it distributed. There also isn’t much of a business model; it all comes out of my pocket and I’m glad to sell a few copies and lose no more than £100 per issue. That has to change.
But I am in no doubt that Catch is a good product and has a future, much like print – through whatever medium. My younger self keeps telling me that.
Catch is available to read online, and in printed form in selected retailers nationwide. The latest issue features articles on the UK riots, pop-up libraries, and a guide to producing music at home, as well as much more. Have a look, and support a bold new publication. Let us know what you think in the comments box, and tell us what you think of the role of the printed press in the modern media.
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