I am not a graphic designer. I deal with words, and can manipulate and manage them in a number of ways, from writing to reviewing to editing to creating, but I’m far less skilled at putting things together in photoshop. So today, when I woke up and realised I’d planned to produce 24 posters for a UCL society that day, I feared I’d be in for some kind of barbaric GCSE ICT-style nightmare fest.

Fortunately, it wasn’t, but it had all the hallmarks of a 100-page GCSE project: the fiddling and refiddling with layers that may or may not be locked, and may or may not be invisible; the horrifically life-crushing realisation that you’ve been dealing in sheets of A4 paper for your whole life, yet don’t know their measurements in millimetres; and the need to export all 24 of your documents to PDFs, then delete them and export them into JPGs so they can be shared, meaning you’ve produced a grand total of 72 pieces of work yet still feel like you’ve done little more than just resize text boxes for five hours.

The difference, however, is that I’m now doing a thing I want to do, rather than an arbitrary academic project foisted on me for the sake of getting a grade. I want this society to do well, and I want to be a part of it, so my relief at the end of this gargantuan afternoon of clicking ‘file’->’export’ isn’t that I can go back to dicking around with Bloodbowl, but that something has been done properly.


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