Out of the office: Watch what happens

Published 1:30 pm Thursday, May 21, 2026

Robert W. Service, the poet often referred to as “the bard of the Yukon,” creates in his fifth volume of verse a narrative persona of an impoverished writer sequestered away in his lonely garret as he works his fingers and mind to the metaphorical bone.

He’s not the first author to do this — plenty of others have exploited the idea of the great, solitary writer — but Service crafts a particularly vivid image of a young man hunched over his papers in a small, bare room, writing and writing and writing to stay just one step ahead of poverty and, one day, maybe, achieve his ambitions.

Years ago, as a moody young writer, I thought this was the quintessence of becoming a real author — that writing was a solitary effort best done in a room with only silence for one’s company. Then, as I was pursuing my undergraduate degree, my creative writing professor taught me differently and completely rewired my brain.

No one writes in utter solitude. Even alone in a room, we write as part of a greater community made up of all the writers who came before us and exist alongside us, those whose works we have read and studied and imitated, and those who have read our works and offered their own thoughts and responses. We are influenced by the people that we meet daily, by the hit song of the week that’s been playing on the radio on repeat, by that weird little indie film blazing its way through festivals to the big, mainstream screen. No one writes in true silence; we write enmeshed in the cacophony of human existence.

This discovery brought me so much joy and has shaped the way I’ve thought about writing and approached my own craft in the years since.

I still believe in this principle. But I have never understood Service’s narrative persona better than in these past eight months.

You, reader, have kept me going through the many long weeks and late nights, through the days of sitting and writing in an empty newsroom.

I love being a community journalist. When I first came to the Homer News, I said that I wanted to tell people’s stories. As I grew into my role as a reporter, I learned more each day what it meant to write and serve my community. I hope you feel that I have served you well.

This is perhaps a rambling way to tell you that I am leaving the Homer News and Peninsula Clarion. This week’s papers — the May 21 issue of the Homer News and the May 22 issue of the Clarion — are my last.

Neither paper will close upon my departure. They will persist; beyond that, I don’t know what future shape they will hold.

As for my future, I’m fortunate enough to be moving on to a hip new opportunity. I will forever be grateful to have been a small thread in the expansive tapestry of the Clarion and Homer News.

These past few years have been a heck of a journey. Writing for the local papers has been a unique gift for a nerd like me — I’ve learned so much every single day about things I never imagined I would care about, but now do. Being a journalist has helped me to connect with my community in surprising and fulfilling ways. Thank you for sharing your stories with me, and for allowing me to share them with others.

It’s been an honor. I’ll see you around.