I have a confession. At the start of this year, I gave myself a quiet deadline. If I could not get this paper to a stable place by the end of the year, I would step back and reconsider everything. It was a personal agreement, a line in the sand that no one else knew about. As we reach the end of 2025, I can report that I did not reach many of the goals I set for myself.
So I have granted myself an extension.
This year has been rough for me personally. The paper, on the other hand, is doing great. Better than I could have imagined when I was sitting in my tiny office, surrounded by toys, wondering what I had gotten myself into. Haida Gwaii News has grown into something with real potential. It has become a resource, a habit, and for many people, a small piece of stability in a world that feels shakier every month.
Running a newspaper is overwhelming. Running a newspaper on an island, as a new parent, with a business model that relies on advertising sales, is in a league of its own. Some days are a blur of deadlines, emails, production work, editing, childcare, and the unavoidable moments where the power flickers at the exact wrong time. I have lost stable advertisers due to factors beyond my control, and I have yet to recover from those losses. Some days, I wonder if I am out of my depth. Other days, I look at a finished issue and feel a little shocked that I pulled it off.
Through all of this, life has challenged me in ways I did not expect. It has been a year that has tested every part of me. Even so, I am looking toward 2026 with a strange mix of hope and determination. My new extension is in place, and as long as the bank account lets me, I will continue to print.
Why? Because of the letters like the ones that arrived last week.
This paper reaches people far beyond my little office. The letters remind me of that. They arrive with warmth, humour, sharp opinions, careful handwriting, or the kind of vocabulary that sends me reaching for a dictionary, which always gives the word nerd in me a thrill. These letters show me the sides of Haida Gwaii that are easy to forget when I am buried in layout or chasing invoices. They remind me why local news matters and why I wanted to build this in the first place.
Vince’s snarky letter in the last edition made me smile, and the three responses we received made me smile even more. One came through Canada Post, handwritten, thoughtful, and genuine. Reading it felt like sitting at a kitchen table with someone who cared enough to share part of themselves.
This is what keeps me going. Not clicks or algorithms or likes. Not the snarky comments that rule the online world. What keeps me going is the simple act of people contributing to something bigger than themselves. These letters create a conversation about what it means to be human on Haida Gwaii. They help us understand each other’s views and experiences in a space that stays calm, curious, and respectful.
I know I am not always perfect on the communication side. Motherhood has isolated me more than I expected, and I do not always call back or answer every email in a timely manner. To make things more interesting, my phone recently jumped out of my pocket and discovered what it feels like to be run over by a truck. So I am slightly disconnected until Santa delivers a replacement. Emails will be answered. The call list will be tackled. It might just take a moment.
What matters is that this paper continues to feel like a home for community conversation. I want people to see themselves in its pages, even when I am running behind on messages or editing with a toddler climbing onto my lap.
Haida Gwaii News is more than a small operation in a cramped room. It is a shared project between everyone who reads it, writes to it, supports it, and argues with it. I may not have reached every goal this year, but I have learned how deeply people care about this paper.
That is enough reason to keep going. And I am going.
Stacey
