art by Maria Rivero for MKH
I gasped as I almost spilled a glass of half-decent Prosecco over myself. I have been known to get overly enthusiastic when having a first sip of a drink after a long day of work. As the conversation continued, I disappeared into a tunnel of my own making.
On the other side, a little girl was sitting in her room playing with toys as her mother read her a poem. The little girl seemed fully consumed by her game. Her mother, concerned that the girl’s propensity for fantasy might interfere with her ability to focus on real-life responsibilities, subtly nudged her and asked, “Are you listening?”
I spent most of my days in the office, dreaming of the work I could do if I had more courage. The search for a job in the world after graduation was so exhausting, I could agree to be anything they needed me to be as long as I could have purpose and a decent salary. When I began the search, being a writer was my main goal. As time passed, I went from writer to copywriter, copywriter, to social media manager and so on. I convinced myself that creativity is a hobby and that I was still on the right path as long as I was writing something.
The girl turned to her mother with a slight hint of irritation on her still youthfully adorable grin. In the girl’s world, fairies, witches and magical beasts were flying around, getting up to all kinds of mischief under the reign of their omnipresent queen, who was always in control. She did not care for her mother’s interruption and ignored all pleas to pay attention to the poems. Days later, during another one of her games, the girl began reciting the poems by heart. The girl’s mind was still in the magical world, yet the land of fairies and witches got so intense she needed to occupy her physical body with a task. Her mother knew then that the girl was still listening, even if she wasn’t paying attention.
After another day of work, feeling satisfied with the job, yet beginning to realise that this is not what I want to do with my life, I headed to White City House to get a drink with a friend. She, like me, was wondering what other things she could pursue in her career. We ordered and began discussing what to do with the rest of our lives. At the exact moment the Prosecco glass touched my lips, she asked me, “Have you ever thought of starting your own magazine?”
The girl’s games were her favourite part of the day. The time when she could disappear into the fantasy and the real world was a thing of the past. The games often lasted hours. She hated playing with other kids. Not because she was antisocial but because the other kids’ plots seemed too simple. “Barbie and Ken get married, and then what?” she thought. She needed more. She would create convoluted storylines with twists and turns that often did not have a traditional happy ending but made her happy. Most of the time, the girl didn’t even need the toys; all she needed to do was go inside her mind, and she would have ten different stories happening simultaneously; all she had to do was pick.
art by Maria Rivero for MKH
“My own magazine?” I asked in confusion. Soon, that confusion became curiosity. Starting something of my own would be an ideal scenario. After working in or reading the media, I knew I could never truly express myself and my opinion in any current publications. There would always be a limit. The idea of starting a magazine, which before seemed impossible, was now always on my mind. All I needed was to reach the breaking point.
As the little girl grew up, the magical world in her mind was replaced by hundreds of entries in the notes app on her phone. She journaled and wrote poetry and fiction. Whenever she felt sad, confused or unprepared to face the world around her, she would write, and suddenly, everything became clear. The world around her was moving, and people around her began planning their futures. After playing around with a psychology degree for a year (knowing she had no interest in the subject), she switched to journalism, thinking she could finally give the writing that helped her so much a real shot.
The breaking point was not as explosive as the word would suggest. I looked out into the world and saw events misrepresented. I saw stories of people being told through outside perspectives with no real passion or emotion. I heard the voices of people who deserve to be heard yet have no space to exist. I looked within myself and realised how much I had to say on subjects both serious and unserious.
While interning at a newspaper that shall remain nameless, the girl realised how limiting the writing process for a big publication is. She had put her work out there before, but she knew that unfiltered creativity would require independence. Yet, she put that thought on hold, partly because she was too busy being in her early twenties and partly because she just wasn’t ready.
art by Maria Rivero for MKH
If someone were to ask me for my lineup of dream writers, I would recite one that has been locked in for years, stacked with award-winning creatives and members of my dream blunt rotation. However, the deeper I got and the more my dream became a reality, the more I started to look around. My focus fell on real people. People I already know and people I will soon have the pleasure of meeting. I wanted to give space for real storytelling. I wanted to read stories that mix the best of literature and reporting, creating the best kind of self-expression. More than that, I wanted to be the one to help those stories come to light.
When the girl studied journalism, she learned about the boundaries of writing. Back then, she thought the people teaching her knew better. After all, these boundaries were set by professionals a long time ago. Who was she to try to break them? If you ask her now, she might tell you it took her years to realise that writing can be whatever she wanted. As long as the story has a heart, the structure can vary.
When I got home after dinner, the thought of starting my own magazine was so loud that I barely managed to quiet it for long enough to go to sleep. The following day, I returned to my daily tasks at work. Under the harsh light of day, the idea didn’t seem possible. What do I, a twenty-four-year-old girl with pages of job application rejections, know about starting a business?
Growing up, the little girl saw her friends explore their hobbies and interests. She had friends who knew everything about music, sports, or art. She tried to keep herself updated, yet she felt like she always fell short in conversations with those genuinely passionate. She often felt embarrassed when she didn’t know a particular artist or event that people were talking about. Sometimes, she was too embarrassed to even ask.
Once, in conversation with a different friend, I was asked what I would want to do. My answer: start my own magazine. I didn’t even think about it; the words just came out. That’s when I realised this thought wasn’t going away. It was scary. Even though I always had a plan to start something of my own, I wanted to work, gain experience, try different things, and then, in my thirties, start an independent project. But why should I wait? I felt ready now. More ready than I have ever been.
art by Maria Rivero for MKH
Years passed, and the little girl grew up and began asking questions. She wanted to know everything and stopped feeling embarrassed about her lack of knowledge. She knew she couldn’t pick one thing to know more than anyone; it wasn’t for her, but she could keep asking questions. She constantly swayed from subject to subject but began seeing it as her superpower. As long as she was curious, she could learn anything she wanted.
I decided to look at the magazine as a side hustle. I didn’t want to leave my job just to be thrown into the unknown. I wanted time to prepare. Meanwhile, I asked Sofia, an incredibly talented friend of mine, to help me with the site design.
I need to take this opportunity to give a big shout-out to Sofia, who has created a website from my fragmented ideas and made the whole process way less scary and lonely.
After a couple of months, the idea of what the site looked like began to form. I continued splitting my time between the magazine and my full-time job. Then, one January afternoon, my position at work was made redundant (a fancy way of saying I got let go). Suddenly, I had nothing to focus on but the website. My side hustle became my only road ahead. I tried to look for new work and freelanced, but ultimately, I knew that even the most exciting job would not compare to the rush I got while working on the site.
Throughout her early twenties, the girl posted stories on her blog. She would write about everything from an existential crisis to a trip she went on with her friends. She would crawl deep into the warmth of her computer screen and cover herself in words as if they were a blanket. She didn’t have many readers, but the ones she had seemed to enjoy her writing. It often threw her off since she still did not believe she was a good writer. At university, there were people she thought were more talented. It took her a while to realise that she doesn’t need to be the best to be good. There will always be someone more talented, but it wouldn’t matter as long she kept putting all of herself into her writing.
I began writing new stories and going through some of the stories I had archived years ago. When I was reading some of my old writing, I was genuinely horrified. I thought, “Why did I think this was good?” I think this will always be a thing. As I learn and grow as a person, I will learn and grow as a writer. And years later, when I’m hopefully still writing, I will look back at the stories published today and think the same thing. The difference will be that those stories will be on the internet forever. Oh well, we move.
art by Maria Rivero for MKH
The girl always found solace in her writing; that’s why, for years, she kept it hidden. She was all for sharing fun stories with friends, but when it came to being honest, she never really enjoyed opening up. She couldn’t imagine talking about her feelings for public consumption. Even when she shared her work, she tried to be vague and cover anything real with jokes and sarcasm. One day, she knew her writing would suffer if she didn’t start being open and honest. A point came when hiding her true opinion and emotions was not an option. That point was MKH.
At first, I wasn’t sure about the concept, but I was sure about the name MKH. I always knew I wanted to create a space where creativity was not limited or controlled, but the details were blurry. A complete picture began to form with time (and a couple of helpful meetings with Sofia). I realised that ‘immersive writing’, a term that might be confusing at first, was all I needed for the stories to stand out. Immersive writing was an idea based partially on the Gonzo style of journalism. When I read Hunter Thompson describing his unfortunate adventures with the Hell’s Angels, I knew I wanted the same practicality in my writing and on my website. I wanted the writer to describe their whole experience, no matter what it would be, with honesty and openness. I wanted the reader to feel the story and the writer’s journey. And I had to practice what I preached. So I said fuck it and decided that from that point on, I would be nothing but fully open with my readers.
Out of that honesty, MKH was born: the digital spirit of immersive storytelling, the guardian of fresh and genuine stories, and my little rebellion against traditional media outlets that insist on a 500-word maximum of blunt facts and figures.
I am excited, and I am scared. I hope MKH is the beginning of something special not just for me but for anyone who ever wanted to express themselves through writing or find themselves in the writing of others. I want everyone to be seen and every story to be told, and I will try my best to do just that.