Every now and then, the same idea shows up twice.
It happened again this edition. I had an editorial lined up about our highways, how we rely on them, how we have quietly adapted to their condition. Then Janet’s Tlellagram column came in, and there it was. The same theme, the same thread, coming from a slightly different angle.
We both live in Tlell. We both drive the highway regularly. It is not exactly surprising that we would land in the same place.
Still, it made me laugh.
After more than a decade of being fellow Tlellians, it felt less like coincidence and more like proof of something. When you live in a small place, you share more than space. You share routines, observations, and the moments that stick with you. The same things rise to the surface.
Two people. Same road. Same week. Same story.
So instead of forcing my version into the paper beside hers, it felt right to step back and look at something else.
The people behind these pages.
Janet is one of the few contributors I know personally. Others, I know first through their writing. Some I would recognize right away. Others, I might pass in the grocery store without realizing they have a piece in the paper that week.
And yet, almost everything you read in Haida Gwaii News comes from someone who lives here.
That is not by accident.
From features to opinion pieces, from community updates to the horoscopes, yes, even those, the content is shaped by people who call these islands home. Alongside Janet, voices like Jeff and Susan have become regular parts of these pages, each bringing their own perspective. And then there is Boyz Jones, the dog, who has managed to carve out a place of his own as well.
There is only one regular exception.
Our Science Matters column, by David Suzuki, is the only off-island content we carry. It was not something we went looking for. His team reached out after hearing about Haida Gwaii News and suggested we publish it.
We often joke that he may not even realize he is a regular contributor here.
Even that speaks to something.
Everything else in this paper is written by people who live here, work here, and move through the same daily life as the readers. Some contributors come through personal connections. Others reach out on their own, looking for a place to share their work. Some arrive with long writing careers and portfolios that would make most editors pause for a second before hitting publish. It is an honour when they choose to share that work here.
Others bring a different kind of experience. Years in a profession. A deep understanding of a topic. A perspective shaped by time and place. Some have been both strong supporters and thoughtful critics of this paper.
And then there are the contributors who appear when they have something to say. A story to tell. A skill to share. They send it in, and more often than not, it finds a place.
Those are always welcome.
There are very few pieces that do not make it into print. When they do not, it is usually because something needs a bit of work. Sometimes I ask for help on those, especially when a well-known local writer sends in a first submission that breaks a rule I try to hold.
Once in a while, the rule bends.
All of it adds up to something larger.
This paper is not built from a single voice. It is built from many. Different backgrounds, different experiences, different ways of seeing the same place. That is why, from time to time, the same ideas appear in more than one place. Not because something has gone wrong, but because they are rooted in the same daily life.
That is also why it matters.
When a story appears here, it is not coming from a distance. It is coming from someone who drives the same roads, shops in the same stores, waits on the same ferry, and notices the same small changes.
That is what makes it feel familiar. That is what makes it feel real.
Sometimes it looks like this. Two people in Tlell, writing about the same stretch of highway in the same week.
That is not something to fix. It is something to recognize.
It means the stories in this paper are not pulled from somewhere else. They are lived here first, then written down.
That is not something you can manufacture. It only happens in a place like this.
And it is exactly what makes this paper what it is.
Stacey
