Ten years ago, Jeff Sparrow, editor of Overland, which describes itself as Australia’s only radical literary magazine, wrote an article in this newspaper entitled What’s the point of literary magazines? In it, he argued that literary magazines not only promote new writers, but provide a space to publish authors who “have something to say that’s not being heard”. He also acknowledged that they cannot survive on issue sales and subscriptions alone. This is a discussion that feels more relevant now than ever in the context of the UK’s crumbling literary magazine scene. The White Review, one of the mainstays of the past decade, announced last month that it would cease publishing “for an indefinite period” as it failed to receive Arts Council England funding for three years in a row. The cultural phenomenon that was gal-dem, the magazine by women of colour, which provided a huge amount of literary coverage over the years, closed earlier this year, and the beautifully illustrated literary magazine Popshot Quarterly has announced its move to solely online editions due to “recent increases in production costs” meaning the print issues are “no longer viable”. It is, to say the least, a depressing time to be a fan of literary magazines. I know this better than most. I founded Bad Form four years ago, a books magazine by and about writers of colour, in an attempt to rectify the horrifying lack of media coverage for the few writers of colour who are published in the UK. In this time, we’ve published 11 print issues, reviewed hundreds of books and given a platform to writers of colour including Bernardine Evaristo, Caleb Azumah Nelson and Sheena Patel. What was a volunteer-run project, supported by my internship wages at the time and the support of other young people of colour, has grown into a magazine that has sold thousands of copies, pays all its writers and illustrators and throws regular events. But last week, I had to announce that I couldn’t do it any more. The cost of printing magazines has grown astronomically. The cost of Royal Mail postage to ship the print issues has gone up. Even X, formerly known as Twitter, has announced its plans to start charging us to use its service, which would be a critical blow. And as costs rise for everyone, it doesn’t feel fair for me not to be paying our contributing writers more, too. So, instead of closing down completely, I have shut down our regular online content, so I can focus on events, community building and print issues. Well-meaning people are always keen to suggest ideas about how to fund the magazine. More subscription content! Who’s going to write it? I have a full-time job. Take on more advertising! Who wants to read a literary magazine that’s full of ads? And why not just cancel the print issue?, which always makes me sad. Print editions of literary magazines are important. For unpublished, radical writers, they can be life-changing. They give weight to voices that are all too often ignored by the mainstream publishing industry. Working on Bad Form is a privilege, but it is also exciting, fun and, as Sparrow said a decade ago, provides an essential place for authors to have a space to raise their voices. As long as I can, I’ll be printing issues of Bad Form, filled with words by writers of colour. Let’s just hope there will be people who can afford to buy them.