Even before the interview begins, over coffees at Gaard Café in Sheffield, Mark Rawson is already playing things down.
“I’ve always felt like I’ve not got a story,” he says with a small shrug. But in typical fashion, once he gets going, Mark’s disarming charm and natural enthusiasm is evident. Within minutes, he’s talking about how he and his teenage mates, back in Worksop, essentially “invented YouTube” in the early days of the internet.
“We used to make these silly videos – skits and sketches and things like that, because we weren’t exactly the cool kids! I made a website to put them on. That’s kind of what got me started, really."
It was the late 90s, and Mark’s introduction to web development came not from a classroom, but from curiosity, creativity and a computer his dad brought home. “My dad was a finance director, working for the NHS, but he was really into computers. We were the only people out of my friends to have the internet back then and my mates would all come round, and we’d sit watching the most random crap!”
Initially struggling to figure out his proto-YouTube site, he decided to try something a little simpler – a score checker for the 1998 World Cup in France. “It was literally just the fixtures and scores – like a wall chart, and I’d go in and update them every day.” he says, “I remember thinking, ‘This is cool. It felt like something.’”
He describes his teenage years in Worksop with a kind of resigned fondness – a time of limited options but good people. “Worksop in the 90s... there wasn’t much going on,” he says. “It was kind of a dying town. The mining industry had gone, and there wasn’t really anything to replace it.” What made it bearable, he says, was the sense of community. “The people were great. My mates were great, we were a group of geeks who liked music, film and football.
“As soon as we were old enough, we spent most of our time just finding things to do and getting the train over to Sheffield and hanging out there for the weekend.”
There was always a creative thread that ran through everything, which included a love of music and playing in bands. When it came time for university, he chose a course at the University of Chester that blended music with journalism – something that brought together writing, tech and media, even if he wasn’t totally convinced about where it might lead. “I wasn’t thinking long-term,” he admits. “I picked journalism because it seemed like something I’d enjoy and I sort of wanted to be a music journalist, but I’d not really thought it through and still didn’t really know what I wanted to do.”
When Mark started university, web development wasn’t even a recognised path. “There wasn’t a web dev course or anything like that,” he says. “It was all really new.” He’d never been drawn to what he calls “hardcore programming” – instead, it was the media side that grabbed him. “I loved music magazines especially. I think I just wanted to create something like that but online – a way to showcase stuff I liked.”
So, it was during uni that he started building websites properly – not just for fun, but for friends’ bands and local promoters. “It was never about starting a business,” he says. “I was just a massive geek so I used to build websites on the side. I liked that process of working something out and making it work.”
After graduating, he moved to Leeds and landed a role at a marketing company in Leeds – a job that was supposed to be about comms but quickly turned technical. “They didn’t have a website when I joined,” he says. “So I built it. I’d never done one that big before – it had loads of content.”
He found himself naturally drawn to the problem-solving side of things. “I’d end up being the one who’d fix stuff if something broke, or someone would say, ‘Can we make it do this?’ and I’d try and find a way.”
Mark then spent eight years in Leeds, working everywhere from agencies to the NHS and local councils, before eventually, through hard work, he landed a role as the Head of Comms and Web for a national charity.
Still, working for someone else eventually wore thin. “On paper, it was a great job,” he says. “I had a decent salary and got to work on some cool projects – but I wasn’t happy.” What frustrated him most was the pace and structure of big organisations. “I can’t be bothered with bureaucracy and box-ticking exercises. In big organisations, everything is so slow-paced. I always felt like there was a quicker, better way to do something, but you couldn’t just get on and do it.”
“I’d never been career driven, but I’d always done well because I’d worked hard and wanted to do better, but, in my head, I’d always wanted to work for myself because I was always obsessed with that new shiny thing or that new project.”
His natural DIY ethos didn’t sit well in the corporate environment, and the frustration started to build. When he and his soon-to-be wife, Laura, decided to move back to Sheffield, it felt like the right time to try something new. “I was banging on about starting a business, and Laura was like, ‘Just do it’!
“We were thinking of having kids in the future so if I was going to do it, it needed to be sooner rather than later. One day, I had a really shit day at work, and I handed my notice in the next day. I didn’t really have a plan, I had enough in my savings for six months and thought, yeah – I’ll see what happens.”
Without any contacts in the Sheffield business scene, Mark knew he’d have to get out and start meeting people. “I didn’t know anyone, really. So I just went to stuff – meetups, networking events, anything where I might get to talk to people about what I do. I’m not a natural networker, but I just had to put myself out there.” That willingness to show up, listen and help where he could started to pay off. One small job led to another, then another.
Setting up on his own meant Mark had to pick up a whole new set of skills – fast. “I learned the hard way, definitely,” he says. “You make mistakes, you undercharge, you take on the wrong project – but that’s how you learn to set your boundaries.”
One of the trickiest parts was getting comfortable with the selling side of things. “I’m crap at sales,” he laughs. “I don’t really sell, I just talk to people about what they want – but I suppose that is selling!” That honest, low-pressure approach has become a strength, helping him build trust with clients and focus on what really matters – solving problems and making something that works.
What’s grown from this approach is more than a client list. Over time, Mark’s developed a clear approach – one that balances logic, creativity and fair pricing. “There’s loads of agencies out there, from ones that will charge 40–50 grand for a website to cowboys doing it for 200 quid, and we sit plumb in the middle. People come with an idea of something they might want to do on a website, but they don’t know if it’s possible – and I go, ‘Yeah, let’s figure it out!’”
He’s never been about flashy pitches or tech for tech’s sake. It’s about practical creativity – solving problems and delivering something that works. “I’m about massively maximising what the client wants to do and figuring out what tools we’ve got to do it,” he says. “Because we’ve got the approach of doing things our own way, it works. It’s logical.”
That independent mindset runs deep. “I just want to work for myself, create my own rules and create my own life. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. It comes with a lot of shit bits, but when you say it like that it sounds amazing.”
Almost seven years into running his own business, looking back, he’s reflective about how it all came together. “14-year-old me wouldn’t have thought I’d be doing this at all. That was the early days of the internet, and I didn’t think it could be a job. Me and my mates just thought it was funny that we could put this website up with these random videos and try and get people to review them in chat rooms. It was just a happy coincidence that I loved doing it and I turned it into a job.” He pauses, then adds with a grin, “We never thought about suing YouTube – but I wish I’d cottoned on to putting ads online. We thought that sounded boring when we were 14. It sounded like a hassle.”
There’s no sense of regret though – just a quiet pride in what he’s built and where he’s landed. “I’ve always fallen into things, but with a purpose. I’ve just done what I wanted to do, rather than tow the line, and that’s me. I don’t want to break the rules – but I’ll always question things.”
Now settled in Sheffield, raising a family and running a business rooted in creativity, community and curiosity, he knows he’s in the right place. “Sheffield is such a good community. I’m so glad I’m here.”
It might not be the story he thought was worth telling, but it’s one full of craft, creativity and quiet confidence, much like the man behind the code.
