It was this time last year that I made the decision to leave full-time employment and try and do something I’ve always wanted to do: start my own publication. When I made this decision, I had a very romantic view of how the following few months would play out. I imagined myself dressed in something bookish, like a crisp shirt, as I brainstormed ideas in notebooks over a fresh pot of coffee. I’m surrounded by publications: novels, non-fiction, magazines, immaculately designed art books. I would also finally be able to read all of the novels I have had on my ‘to read’ list for the past 10 years, in the name of ‘research’.

In reality, my notebooks were replaced with google docs, shirts for daggy sweaters and a singular coffee cup for four dirty ones. It was six months of long days and nights creating Lindsay and another six keeping it going. There hasn’t been a lot of time to get through my fiction wishlist on long train trips or at local cafes, but I have certainly read more than ever before.