Starting in the reading room, not at the keyboard
Every feature begins with paper. Before I write a single line, I spend a few afternoons in a library reading room or a local archive, asking what has already been recorded about a craft, a building or a custom. Public libraries across the country keep local histories, pamphlets and bound newspapers that rarely appear online, and the staff are usually glad to point a curious visitor toward them.
This first stage is about orientation rather than quotation. I want to know the shape of a subject: who worked at it, when it changed, and where the accounts disagree. A boatbuilding tradition on one coast and a quilting circle on the prairies both leave traces, but the traces look very different, and the method has to bend to fit.
I keep these early notes in a plain paper notebook, dated and numbered by page. It is slow, and it is deliberate. A notebook cannot be searched, so I am forced to reread it, and rereading is where connections tend to appear.
- Local library history rooms and archives come first
- Paper notebooks, dated and numbered
- Early notes map the subject; they are not yet quotes
Public records and the work itself as primary sources
Our features lean on material anyone can consult: published books, museum catalogues, municipal records, and the finished work of the makers and artists we write about. A profile of a weaver starts with the cloth, a piece on a heritage building starts with the building and its permits. We describe what is on the public record and say plainly when something is uncertain.
That discipline matters for a magazine that wants to be reliable more than it wants to be first. We do not invent dialogue, and we do not attribute feelings to people we have not spoken with. When a detail cannot be confirmed, it is either left out or described as an account passed down rather than a settled fact.
Where a museum or society holds the relevant collection, I ask for the catalogue entry and note its reference. That small habit lets an editor trace any sentence back to where it came from.
- Books, catalogues and municipal records over hearsay
- The work itself is read as a document
- Unconfirmed details are flagged or dropped
Visiting, listening and keeping a field kit light
When a feature allows a visit, the kit is modest: a notebook, two pencils, a small audio recorder, a basic camera and a folding stool. A recorder is used only with the permission of the person speaking, and I say at the start what the piece is for and roughly when it will appear.
Listening is the real tool. Makers often explain a technique best while their hands are busy, so I try to ask short questions and then wait. Some of the most useful sentences in past drafts came from a silence that I resisted filling.
Autumn is a good season for this kind of work, since workshops are back in full swing after summer and the light through a studio window is soft enough to photograph without fuss. I write down the weather and the room as well, because those small details often anchor a scene later.
- Notebook, pencils, recorder, camera, stool
- Recording only with clear permission
- Notes on the room and the light, not just the words
Checking names, places and dates twice
Back at the desk, the first job is verification. Spellings of names, the order of events, the distance between two towns and the name of a street all get checked against a second source. It sounds tedious because it is, yet one wrong place name can erode a reader's trust in an otherwise careful piece.
I build a short list of every checkable fact in a draft and tick each one off. If two sources disagree, I note both and choose the more cautious wording. Margaret Hollis, our Editor in Chief, reads that list alongside the text and often asks which line a reader might doubt.
Evergreen writing helps here. A feature built on craft, history and place stays accurate longer than one tied to a passing event, so the checking pays off for months rather than days.
- One checklist of facts per draft
- Two sources for names, places and sequences
- A second editor reads the list and the text
Editing by ear and cutting what the story does not need
Long reads are shaped in the edit. I read each draft aloud, slowly, because the ear catches clumsy rhythm that the eye forgives. Where I stumble, a sentence is usually carrying too much, and it gets split or cut.
The second pass is about subtraction. A feature collects far more material than it can hold, and the temptation is to include every good detail. Good editing means choosing the handful that serve the reader and leaving the rest in the notebook for another day.
Headlines and captions come last, written plainly to say what the piece contains. We would sooner promise a little and deliver it than hint at drama the text cannot support.
- Read every draft aloud before it goes to an editor
- Cut for the reader, not for the notebook
- Plain headlines and captions written last
Photographs, credits and honest captions
Images are chosen to show the subject of the piece, whether that is a workbench, a harbour wall or a stretch of path through a park. Captions describe what is visible and nothing more, and we avoid attaching a picture to a claim it cannot prove.
Where a maker or institution has supplied an image, the credit is given in full and the permission is kept on file. When we have no suitable picture, we would rather use a well-chosen scene of the craft than a forced one.
This part of the method is quiet, but readers notice it. A caption that matches the text, set beside a photograph that fits it, tells them that someone looked closely before publishing.
- Pictures chosen to show the actual subject
- Captions that describe, never exaggerate
- Credits and permissions kept on file
None of these methods is clever, and that is the point. A notebook, a library card, a recorder, a checklist and a careful ear are enough to produce a feature a reader can trust. We would rather publish a patient piece that holds up over many seasons than a quick one that fades. If a craft or a corner of Canadian culture has caught your eye, the same steady habits are how we would begin.