Raising a good magazine


I’ve always thought completing an issue of Turkey Country is somewhat like childbirth — a comparison my male coworkers find kind of gross. But it’s true. You create it from a series of concepts that develop into blocks of words and pictures. Those are arranged into pages that are pleasing to the eye, which are glued together at the printer.

That’s oversimplifying the entire process — for publishing a magazine and having a baby — but you get the gist: A heckuva lot goes into making that roughly 144-page book that the postal carrier flops into your mailbox.

By the time I get my own copy of the magazine, I’m super proud of the result, but I’m hard pressed to pick it up and read it. I mean I’ve read it, like, five times already. Plus, I’m terrified I’ll find a mistake.

I had to train my mother to not point out typos to me after the fact. She thought she was helping, but at some point you just have to cut your losses. And those losses are much easier to handle if you don’t know about them.

I really love what I do. I get to use the creative and the technical parts of my brain each day. And I hope that shows in the end product — and that you find enjoyment in reading it, maybe even learn something.

I’d love to hear what you think about what you read and see in Turkey Country. And even though each issue is like a baby to me, you can tell me if you think it’s ugly. (But I wouldn’t recommend you saying that to a mother about her flesh and blood.)

In all seriousness, I want to hear your tips for helping me raise Turkey Country right. What do you want to see more or less of? What made you smile? What made you think?

Let me know.

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