Red Letter Poem #190

 The Red Letters

 

 

In ancient Rome, feast days were indicated on the calendar by red letters.

To my mind, all poetry and art serves as a reminder that every day we wake together beneath the sun is a red-letter day.

 

––Steven Ratiner

 

 

 

 

 

 

Red Letter Poem #190

 

 

 

 

 

The Lock

 

 

When we met, I cared for no one.  Just myself.

Still I wanted to impress you with my mouth––

 

“Such a mouth on her,” my mother groaned

to neighbors.  I practiced lip trills a long time

 

before I let you hear.  My candles burned

down to essential scents, fire and wax.

 

You smelled like balsam, like the forest.

I was a city girl until I tangled with you, sure

 

the way a child is sure, no one knows me.

I felt the tumblers twist, a combination

 

that opened me to kissing my mother’s

wrinkled hand, and then you.  Everything.

 

 

                         ––Joyce Peseroff

 

 

I spent over four decades of my life teaching poetry: to elementary, secondary, college and graduate students, as well as adults and senior citizens.  I always felt rejuvenated by the tremendous upsurge of creative energy present in those workshops, but this was especially true when working with very young students.  Having endured what––let’s be honest––can often feel like the tyranny of English grammar, they intuited in my approach that poetry was about liberation: at last, they thought, all the chains could be smashed, all the rules broken.  Certainly, it's thrilling to surrender to the siren song of imaginative language; but then my message would grow more subtle: the rules can indeed be bent or broken if (and that if loomed large) it was in service of a higher purpose, the inner requirements of the emerging poem.  Simply abandoning, willy-nilly, the rules of the road that syntax provides will usually result in head-on collisions and sheer unintelligibility.  You I and talking each other to might never without them communicate (if you catch my meaning––and you may very well not.)  Reading and writing poems can definitely affirm the idea that everything is, indeed, possible when pursuing your creative vision.  But most important: to experience that sense of utter necessity, an impulse that drives both the poem and the emerging poet. 

 

Joyce Peseroff’s new piece is rife with that spirit of rebelliousness––linguistically and emotionally.  She twists syntax, fragments sentences, and reassembles lines in ways that might make her English teacher scowl.  And the narrative thread of the piece is so ambiguous, we can’t help but insert our own stories into the gaps––which, I’m guessing, is at the heart of the poet’s intention.  We begin in media res with a teenage protagonist (at least that’s how I’m envisioning her) and another mysterious presence (the bond of “we” already formed.)  What passion has so enthralled the speaker, it‘s spurred a jailbreak from her own solitude?  “Still I wanted to impress you with my mouth” she says––and if you’re not writing your own fevered scenarios when you read that line (ranging from the intellectually precocious to the downright risqué), then you’ve likely suppressed all memory of adolescence.  But then the poem jukes right: “"Such a mouth on her,” my mother groaned/ to neighbors”––and I’m laughing and wincing at the same time.  “I was a city girl until I tangled with you,” (tangled?!  and now we’re squirming a little in our seats.)  “Sure”, she goes on––and what a marvelous enjambment, surety leading to the ultimate insecurity––“sure/ the way a child is sure, no one knows me.”  Right then, I am remembering my first serious girlfriend and how consequential such a connection can be, even if the world terms it ‘puppy love.’  The poem’s final and encompassing “everything” presents a panoply of possibilities.  It represents our first giant step toward true personhood––moving away from the bond of parental love, as the heart begins staking its own claim on existence.

 

Readers may remember Joyce from three previous Red Letter appearances, but I’ll remind you that she is the author of six poetry collections––her most recent, Petition (Carnegie Mellon University Press) was named a “must-read” by the Massachusetts Book Awards.  As a poet, editor, and educator, she’s been a vital presence in the New England literary scene for decades.  This new piece brought to mind a chorus of other voices celebrating intellectual independence.  It was Robert Frost who famously commented that “writing free verse is like playing tennis without a net.”  I’ve heard teachers use this comment to disparage the ‘unregulated’ (implying ‘unskilled’) nature of the genre.  But without the crucial constraints of formal verse, the poet must rely on his/her own imagined architecture to make the poem cohere.  Said another prominent poetic contrarian: “To live outside the law you must be honest” (it sounds better in that Dylan drawl)––not free from all rules and standards but governed by ones of your own determination.  And as for Joyce, let me quickly agree: such a mouth on that girl!  You never know what will emerge, how it will nudge us off-balance, or pick the lock on an unsuspecting heart.

 

 

 

 

Red Letters 3.0

 

* If you would like to receive these poems every Friday in your own in-box – or would like to write in with comments or submissions – send correspondence to:

steven.arlingtonlaureate@gmail.com

 

 

* To learn more about the origins of the Red Letter Project, check out an essay I wrote for Arrowsmith Magazine:

https://www.arrowsmithpress.com/community-of-voices

 

and the Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene

http://dougholder.blogspot.com

 

* For updates and announcements about Red Letter projects and poetry readings, please follow me on Twitter          

@StevenRatiner

 

Longfellow Birthday Celebration: Evangeline Marathon Reading Feb 24, 2024 10 AM to 12PM

 

Our friends at the Longfellow House-Washington's Headquarters National Historic Site, in collaboration with Mt. Auburn Cemetery, have sent us this invitation:

“Join us in Mount Auburn Cemetery's Story Chapel to celebrate the 217th anniversary of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's birth with a special marathon reading of one of his best-loved poems, Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie…. Enjoy an hourlong read-a-thon of Evangeline (slightly abridged). Sign up to read a section of the poem at https://forms.office.com/g/HY0nbmQ8CU, or just come enjoy the unique structure and moving story of this iconic work. Registration required at https://29461.blackbaudhosting.com/.../2024-Longfellow....

The reading will be followed by birthday cake and, weather permitting, a visit to the Longfellow family tomb for a brief wreath-laying ceremony.”

The Facebook event is at https://fb.me/e/MQCuEtow.

Somerville's Melissa Nilles: Grooving in the Ruby Grove Band

Recently I caught up with musician, therapist. and poet Melissa Nilles. Her latest project is the Ruby Grove Band. Like many artists in our community she juggles a lot of things to make the daily nut--but her music is her passion, and she makes sure it stays a big part of her life.

 Doug Holder: First off—How has it been for you as an artist to live in Somerville?

 Melissa Nilles:  I’m generally grateful to call Somerville home. It’s the right fit for me and my (fellow artist) partner to live here as we feel generally supported by the city and its increased focus on creativity, well-being, social justice, and sustainability. With defining events like Porchfest and other local festivals like Somerstreets that we’ve been grateful to be selected to play at by the Somerville Arts Council, I appreciate the music and arts opportunities and culture that exists here, and the ability to be seen and heard as a growing indie musician. As a bisexual woman I also love the distinctive queerness of the city and the relative perceived safety and security of living openly here as opposed to less supportive areas of the world. My only real gripes are wishing for increased affordable housing, a city-funded monthly music rehearsal space, and the improved condition of Highland Ave. I’m also worried my partner and I will have to leave Somerville in the next few years due to rising housing costs (we found a rare deal from an elderly private landlord that many people don’t have in the area, and when we want to expand our space to have children, we’ll likely have to leave).

DH: You wear many hats. You are a therapist, poet, and a musician. Is there a cross current with all these disciplines? As a therapist, do you employ music as a therapeutic tool? 

MN: Definitely. Everything informs everything else. All three disciplines require curiosity, artistic expression, and a willingness to dive deep into the core workings and insights of life. I first hatched these tendencies as a writer, poet, and pianist in middle school (and I guess I’ve been singing since I was very, very little). I’ve always been an introspective and sensitive person which naturally led me to writing, getting really, really into playing piano (especially dramatic minor classical pieces as an angsty teen), and deeply reflecting on my own life and intensely supporting friends and others I care about (an experience that I find most therapists have). This year I’ve done some deep reflection on my motivations to continue with music full steam ahead. During these moments, which included driving into the Joshua Tree desert expanse for several days to walk alone and listen to the sound of nothing and scribble in my journal, I’ve realized that even as a musician I’m a writer at my core. I most deeply value writing lyrics and poems alone- that initial process of developing a seed for a song. The luxury of taking a deep dive when I’m in an introspective place into a little solo writing hole while I’m traveling is my gold. At the minimum I get really focused at local cafes after work or on the weekends or over workweek morning breakfasts. It’s like a little journey into my mind, my view of the current, past and future worlds, where I think I am, where I’m headed, who’s around me, what I dream about, what might inspire me or move me forward in that moment in time. Then I re-emerge into the world and share my little jewels with the band and see if they work and vibe with everyone else. This balance works great for me. It’s always a little vulnerable but very fun developing the songs with a band, and that is my strong preference as opposed to solo musician work after working with bands for many years. As I got older, I also became a lot more social and extroverted, and I see the music world as more social, more fun, and more energetically uplifting, so it’s where I like to live. I really get a lot out of performing and sharing my energy with a crowd, and I also like being known in the scene and going to shows. I don’t think I’d get quite as much fulfillment out of just being a writer, as it has a reputation for being more of a solitary career, and I guess I need/want both aspects of energy (I am a true ambivert I guess). Though someday I do hope to publish at least a book of poetry, if not more.

As for music and therapy- I think traditional therapy and music are just two different types of healing. I’m an expressive arts therapist and mental health counselor, which means I have special training in traditional talk therapies and in utilizing music, poetry, art, dance, and drama in my therapeutic work. I regularly see how the arts can allow clients to express their emotions or release and contain overwhelming griefs or trauma, sometimes better than traditional talk therapy (and a little less energetically draining for the therapist). My experience as a therapist also informs the music I do which is about healing myself, and helping others find uplifting melodies and their own personal growth journeys mirrored in my words. I do love this job sometimes but I think the expectation for how many people I should be seeing per week at mental health agencies is beyond my capacity as a highly sensitive person and am working on building a small therapy private practice that is focused exclusively on the types of therapy work I like to do with people with ADHD, anxiety, trauma, mood disorders, or with LGBTQ+ identified clients. I am cutting back slowly on my caseload for more balance while I ramp up other avenues of my creative careers (sometimes paid original music, paid music gigs, and paid film/tv/video game music work).

DH: Tell us about your indie bands– Miele and Ruby Grove. What is unique about your sound? 

 MN: You first mentioned Miele I’m sure because it’s the one with more longevity and material out there- it was an indie alternative and art rock project in the Somerville and Cambridge area (2014-2020) that I was proud to make music with for six years with some very talented local musicians. Some of our best moments included playing to great crowds at venues like the Middle East, Great Scott, and Atwood’s Tavern, releasing our full-length album Transience (check it out on Spotify), and bonding with other local musicians to try and save the EMF music rehearsal studio in Cambridge (we failed but made friends along the way). But otherwise, for the record, Ruby Grove is my newest, current, active indie trip-hop meets indie rock/pop project, and all of my eggs lie in that basket now as the lead singer, keyboardist, band leader, social media updater, booker, de-facto indie band manager, etc. We’ve been growing recently and we’re now a 5-piece band with keys/vocals, backup vocals/bass, lead guitar, rhythm guitar/saxophone, and drums. Since 2022, we have been inspired to write uplifting music that aims to help people cope with their deepest fears, explore their potential, and engage more fully with the world. Miele’s bass player, Cedric Lamour, and I co-founded Ruby Grove knowing we also wanted to dive into exploring intersections between genres (something we also loved doing with Miele, though Ruby Grove’s exploration is more well-blended). Ruby Grove traverses the sonic landscape between jazz fusion, lofi hip-hop, trip-hop, soul, electro, indie rock, art rock, psych, and indie pop and hopefully lands the listener in a slightly dazed, euphoric, and inspired place. I aim to keep creating and releasing our material in Somerville for the foreseeable future. We’re currently in the process of recording our first EP at a Somerville-based recording studio we love called New Alliance Audio. We already have some singles online since it’s that kind of time for musicians (now the joke is that a single is like an EP, and an EP is like an album, due to decreased attention spans and the expectation to be releasing less material more often). Anyone who wants a good starting point can check out our latest single “Maybe It’s Time” on Spotify or any of the other big music platforms or check out rubygrovemusic.com. And if you’re curious to come see us, our next gigs are on 1/14 at the Square Root in Roslindale, as part of a musical event honoring MLK and his legacy, or 2/23 at The Jungle in Somerville with Battlemode and New Jersey phenoms The Foes of Fern.

DH: What drew you to be a keyboardist, instead of the flashier guitar, etc.

MN: I’ve been a keyboardist since the third grade so it was hard to imagine playing any other instrument for accompaniment with voice. I considered learning guitar to a more proficient level, but the reality is that I don’t feel as fluid or expressive on other instruments (besides voice). I also started my first project in Boston playing with a guitarist (and then later two guitarists) so I was always able to find guitarists to work with I guess, and definitely more guitars were not needed! I’m also happy I stuck with keyboards because synthesizer, organ, and piano sounds are a must for the jazz fusion, lofi hip-hop, electronic, soul, and trip-hop styles we’re exploring. I’m currently knee deep in learning more about my synthesizer for these genres and I’m finally graduating from just using patches on the Nord to fall down the rabbit hole of custom synth programming and some wacky, weird sonic places. Maybe I’ll be able to get closer to what FKJ does this year. I’m also excited to do some flashier stuff in 2024 on keytar as a frontwoman kind of like Lucius (keytars are back, it’s officially the second coming of the 70s).

DH: I noticed on a Google search that you contribute to the Facebook page, "Musicians are people too.". It concerns the hard-knock life of many musicians. Do you ever question yourself about the time you spend with music, as opposed to doing something more lucrative?

MN: Absolutely. Being a musician in 2024 can seem like a very financially strange decision for anyone, unless you’re Billie Eilish. We love to joke and meme about it to decrease the tension. And yet I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. It’s what I’m meant to do, and what I’m supposed to do. Even if I take breaks, like I had to during one of the pandemic years, I know this impulse is just laying dormant waiting to re-emerge. If I didn’t listen to that urge or engage at all with creativity it would eventually come out in destructive ways, I’m sure. I know many people feel the same way and probably get taken advantage of for just wanting to follow their dreams. I’m sure I’ve lost out on a fair amount of income just by not following a more traditional route working full-time as a therapist (I’ve often opted for more flexible therapy work so I can do the original music work I want to do too). I’ve also certainly done plenty of time playing low-paying gigs, doing less-than-fulfilling cover gigs, or doing things for exposure (common jokes/memes on the “Musicians are People Too” FB page). If you get too jaded about it, it can start to feel like a lose-lose situation for many people and I’m sure that’s why people think of achieving success as a musician as such as a black and white situation (either a rock star, or dead, broke, or homeless). But it’s not all like this, and I’ve also had wonderful, beautiful experiences- going on a proper tour for the first time this last year with Ruby Grove, getting nominated for Rising Star of Massachusetts by the New England Music Awards, releasing an epic, dark album I was really proud of with Miele, making proper money gigging at local festivals with Ruby Grove or as a pianist at weddings, having people send me screenshots of how Ruby Grove’s latest single “Maybe It’s Time” was their top listened Spotify track of 2023, drawing bigger and better crowds at our shows in Boston, experiencing the sublime quality of remaking myself through the work, etc. I’m trying to open myself up through the internet as well as through people in my own life to examples of people who have made a moderate amount of livable income through music because that feels like the actual real next step for me. I love listening to thepodcast “Creative Pep Talk” for this reason because it has so many great examples of regular people just doing the work and finding ways to balance and sustain their creative careers. At this moment, I’m trying to take as many steps as possible to get out of my own way and also get out of the way of capitalism safely so I can survive, thrive, and also do what I’m supposed to do without as much interference as can happen. Being a therapist is disgracefully underpaid as well ($45k average for people with MA degrees) and I’ve made much less than that as well at the earlier stages of my career. Hopping into an even more notoriously unstable career after years of already low income is a hard move. But it’s the only choice for me in my opinion as I’ve done deep work on my path over the last year. Fear is a strong motivator to maintain the status quo but I am trying to let my fear inform me rather than guide my choices. Starting my private practice helps me get some solid income in the door at a higher base rate and opens up time for me to shift my focus on what I really want to focus on, which is music and writing. I have so many pathways and doors to explore in this area that I have been longing for so long and I am excited to move onto this next chapter of my life, even if I fail, or even if hilariously worse, my engineer dad judges me for being a broke but happy and fulfilled musician.

Red Letter Poem #189

 The Red Letters

 

 

In ancient Rome, feast days were indicated on the calendar by red letters.

To my mind, all poetry and art serves as a reminder that every day we wake together beneath the sun is a red-letter day.

 

––Steven Ratiner

 

 

 

 

 

 

Red Letter Poem #189

 

 

 

 

Margin: Heroes 

 

 

Not Wonder Woman, Bat-whoever

 

iron-on emblems, masquerade masks,

capes flapping their chests like loose shutters—

 

but others

 

who yank alarms, bolt into fire, strip off fear’s

top layer of skin and dive from cliffs,

swim to the call, mount the sinking raft,

fuel their pacifist hearts with gasoline and strike a match,

scramble from teargas, lock arms before tanks,

shout, write, paint, sit, go limp

 

 

                              ––Denise Bergman

 

I am writing this on the first day of the new year; perhaps it’s in lieu of a more traditional resolution.  In recent days, I’ve found myself saying similar things over and over in notes to friends (and to more than a few Red Letter readers who’ve sent me e-mails in response to my last installment) anticipating this ordinary but somehow momentous milestone.  We are not unmindful of the choices we’re facing, and the magnitude of their consequence.  We leave 2023 saddened, exhausted, more than a little terrified by some of the possibilities on the rise.  But we are also searching for any shred of optimism that will help us marshal our energies.  Zora Neale Hurston wrote: “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”  2024 may turn out to be both.   Reports about climate catastrophe have become something of the norm––whole communities undermined or even obliterated––and yet many governments still refuse to address this as a priority.  Authoritarianism seems to have spread around the planet like a new contagion.  And here, in a country that likes to think of itself as a ‘beacon for the world’, we’ve been flirting with a complete undermining of the Constitutional order, not to mention the social compact that has, for two-and-a-half centuries, bound our fates together.  It’s clear that a large segment of the American electorate is toying with the idea of selecting a fundamentally undemocratic individual to lead us––as if what democracy needed now was an Arsonist in Chief.  Will the American experiment burn like Rome, like the many great empires that vanished before us?

 

So, to counter these dark thoughts, I decided to bring you something of a change––in tone, if not in subject matter.  This new poem from Denise Bergman begins playfully but, even with its light touch, becomes something of a summons to our better selves.  In a sequence of poems called “Margin”, she casts her attention on a variety of lives that are too often marginalized in society today, offering them their well-deserved moment in the spotlight.  Here, in the litany of that final stanza, we recognize a host of actions that defy our mounting fears.  First responders, fiery activists, street protestors who try to bring the doom-machine to a screeching halt (even if that places their own welfare at risk.)  Anything but surrender to the reactionary forces that seem to prefer chaos, division, even destruction rather than dialog or compromise.  What’s called for in dire times are heroes; are you, am I the one we’ve been waiting for?   Denise has authored five poetry collections, the most recent being The Shape of the Keyhole (from Black Lawrence Press.)   One of her poetic approaches is to explore a single historical figure or situation so that we may better imagine the reality of that experience.  Keyhole centers on one week in1650 when her protagonist, an accused witch, is awaiting execution.  Sometimes even a clear-eyed perception can be a heroic act––especially if the verse is able to unshackle the heart.

 

Denise’s poem made me think of the final scene from the movie Jojo Rabbit––do you remember it?  In Taika Waititi’s surreal drama, a ten-year-old boy has been forced to serve in the Hitler Youth while all around him, it’s clear, the war is grinding to a close.  He’s like any child, trying to do what the world expects of him.  But, at the very same time, he’s been hiding a young Jewish girl in the attic of his house.  When Allied forces finally subdue the Nazis, and the two young people reemerge into the rubbled streets of their town, they are greeted (anachronistically, but joyfully) by David Bowie’s song Heroes on the soundtrack.  And they dance amid the destruction, determined to find joy in a world where such things have, for years, been banished.  “We can be heroes, just for one day. . .”.  Perhaps that is where we start: we rescue one moment from the encompassing darkness, choose one situation––close at hand or across the planet–– for which we can offer some relief.  Capes and spandex are, of course, optional.

 

 

 

 

Red Letters 3.0

 

* If you would like to receive these poems every Friday in your own in-box – or would like to write in with comments or submissions – send correspondence to:

steven.arlingtonlaureate@gmail.com

 

 

* To learn more about the origins of the Red Letter Project, check out an essay I wrote for Arrowsmith Magazine:

https://www.arrowsmithpress.com/community-of-voices

 

and the Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene

http://dougholder.blogspot.com

 

* For updates and announcements about Red Letter projects and poetry readings, please follow me on Twitter          

@StevenRatiner

Journalist Dan Kennedy talks about digital community newspapers and the end of the 'ink-stained' wretch

Interview with Doug Holder

Well, I have worked in the trenches of community journalism for about 23 years now. Physical newspapers have gone the way of digital media. But still-- I must admit --I get the physical New York Times and The Boston Globe at my favorite coffee shop. I must look like a historical reenactor to many of the younger folks out there. I remember my father, (an advertising Mad Man in New York)--brought home a host of newspapers, and I became a junkie at a young age. My father was even afraid I would become a Collier Brothers hermit--  like the very men who drowned in a sea of newspapers in their Harlem tenement building. There are no more ink-stained wretches working the presses; the clean and efficient internet have to a good degree replaced the slap of the paper on the pavement with its yelping headlines, as we saw in so many old movies. So I was interested to interview Dan Kennedy, a former journalist at the Boston Phoenix and Professor of Journalism at Northeastern University, (who along with his colleague Ellen Clegg) collaborated on a new book "What Works in Community News..." This study deals with community journalism, digital media, and how community newspapers can survive in this bottom line milieu we live in.

Q: First off, why did you guys feel the need to write this book?

A: I’ve been working in this space for years—it’s actually my third book about the future of local news. Ellen Clegg wore a lot of hats at the The Boston Globe, and at one time ran the Sunday regional sections the paper used to have that covered local news. So the fate of community journalism is a real passion of ours.

About 2,900 papers, mostly weeklies, have closed since 2005, according to a study by Northwestern University, and corporate chain ownership is squeezing the life out of many of those that remain. What we wanted to do was shine a spotlight on independent projects that have risen up to fill the gap. Most of them are digital startups and most are nonprofits. But we also looked at for-profit newspapers, tiny radio stations and a large public television operation. What unites all of them is a passion to serve their communities with reliable news and information.

Q: You write that that community newspapers are essential for 'self-governing' democracies. How so?

A: Over the past couple of generations, we’ve lost our connection to civic life, and the decline of community journalism has a lot to do with that. How can you cast a meaningful ballot for mayor, city council, select board, school committee and the like if there’s no reliable source of news? Who is holding the police department accountable? How are you going to find out about the apartment building that’s being proposed for your neighborhood?

Ellen and I also believe that local news can help us overcome the intense political polarization that has come to define national issues. If we can relearn the art of cooperation at the local level, we may discover that we all have more in common than we thought.

Q: How important is it for the print newspaper to survive with all the digital opportunities we have now?

  A: It is not important at all. Most of the projects we look at are digital-only. In fact, Ellen is the co-founder of a startup nonprofit, Brookline.News, that is digital-only.

Q: I believe you started out in a community newspaper in the area. Are these good training grounds—a sort of minor league of journalism?

A: Yes, I worked at The Daily Times Chronicle in Woburn during the ’80s, and I’m happy to say that it’s still owned by the Haggerty family, who founded the paper in 1901.

I don’t think of community journalism as the minor leagues at all, and I wish more young people would build their careers around local news.

Q: Many fiction and poetry writers (Hemingway for one) have said that newspaper writing gave them good skills for their creative endeavors. What is your take on this?

A: Learning to write quickly and communicate clearly are essential skills for journalists, and I agree that those skills can be transferred to other forms of writing. I don’t write fiction or poetry, but I have written four books, and I rely heavily on what I learned in my 20s. This is Ellen’s third book. That’s a pretty high level of productivity, and our background as newspaper journalists has a lot to do with our ability to crank it out. I’ll leave it to others to judge the deathlessness of our prose.

Q: Many community newspapers are transforming into nonprofits. I know the paper I am arts editor for—The Somerville Times—didn't see the need to go nonprofit. Do you think non-profits are the way to go? 

A: Nonprofit is a business model, just like for-profit. There are hundreds of local news startups across the country, and most of them are technically for-profts—one- or two-person operations that are almost more passion projects than they are real businesses. Ellen and I found, though, that most of the larger projects with real reporting capacity are nonprofit, because in the current environment that’s where the money is. In fact, two of projects that we write about, The Colorado Sun and Santa Cruz Local, switched from for-profit to nonprofit after our deadline.

The problem with for-profit is that advertising brings in very little money compared to years past. A healthy nonprofit news organization is generally built on top of a three-legged stool: large gifts in the form of grants and donations from high-net-worth individuals, which I’ve learned is nonprofit-speak for “rich people”; voluntary membership fees from readers, sometimes in exchange for extra goodies like a newsletter or a T-shirt; and what is often referred to as “earned income” in the form of advertising—again, to use nonprofit-speak, “underwriting”—and, in some cases, an events business.

I also want to mention the hybrid model, by which a for-profit news site either works with a nonprofit or has a nonprofit arm of its own so that it can accept tax-deductible donations to support certain types of public interest reporting. That’s what The Colorado Sun was doing before it went fully nonprofit. It’s also a model that’s being used by a number of other news outlets such as the Storm Lake Times Pilot in Iowa, The Mendocino Voice in Northern California and, closer to home, The Provincetown Independent.

Q: Twenty years from now—do you think we will see a community newspaper void or a thriving landscape?

A: On the one hand, I think things are going to get worse before they get better because so many papers are still under the control of corporate chains and hedge funds. On the other hand, I do think things are eventually going to get better. Ellen and I are especially hopeful that our book will serve as a roadmap for folks across the country who’ll learn about these projects and say, “Hey, we can do this.”