I’ve spent most of my career working on audio documentaries — lengthy, deeply reported, complex stories produced by people who love the sound of the human voice, and who delight and agonize in the many decisions that go into making something that connects the people sharing their stories with the people willing to listen.

Those stories we produced took months, sometimes years. When the people we interviewed asked when they could listen to the finished product, I’d explain using a phrase I’d heard other reporters I admired use: “We have the luxury of time.” In other words … it may be a while.

This felt like a kind of confession at times; the statement meant that I realized time was precious. It was a nod to the love and respect I felt for the news reporters on the floors below who were recording audio in the morning and filing urgent stories that same evening.

The longer I’ve worked on longform nonfiction, and the longer I’ve strived to be worthy of this form of journalism, the less I believe that taking time is a luxury. I believe it’s a mandate. At times, I feel it’s a covenant. To insist on time. To hold spaces for stories that are not topical. For stories that require time to unfold. And stories that — by the very fact of not being “newsworthy” — reveal the small moments of life that create so much of the meaning we find in it.

I joined the team at Maine Public Radio a little less than a year ago. My first longform project since joining, just released, is an on-demand collection of stories from and about Maine, “Essential Salt.”

In many ways, it’s unlike most of the work we do at Maine Public Radio. Maine Public is a mission-driven organization committed to covering breaking news throughout the state. Our news team covers critical stories as they happen — an invaluable public service that is done day-in and day-out on deadline. This information can’t be slow — it demands nimble reporting and fast turnarounds in order to be useful. It takes a herculean level of heart and hustle to do this work. And it reaches listeners every day over the air and online without a paywall.

The stories in “Essential Salt” are not news stories, in subject or style. They lean into questions without answers, emotions and experiences that confound rather than explain. Each of the six episodes showcase two stories made by students at the Salt Institute for Documentary Studies in Portland. These stories are gorgeously scored, sound-rich — and they took months to make.

But in the ways that matter most, these stories are deeply in tune with everything made at Maine Public. They’re true stories about Maine, made in Maine, that explore the smallest and biggest aspects of making a life in a state with a rich history and dynamic present.

Each story in “Essential Salt” focuses on a place or a person that not only helps us better understand the many realities of Maine, but also, I believe, encourages us to question our understanding of who Mainers are, and how we relate to each other in this place we call home.

We hear directly from people working through heartbreak, and people taking noble (and, in some cases, joyfully obstinate — as in the case of one man’s quest to hold on to a vanity license plate) stands. We hear from people in situations that seem hard to imagine, and in situations so relatable we may feel we’ve been there ourselves. But regardless of the circumstances and details, these stories refuse to be rushed. They sit us down at a woman’s kitchen table in Norway, and on a bus making its way from Houlton to Bangor. They wait by the side of the road and listen to spring peepers Downeast. They spend the night wondering about fate at an inn in Stratton.

One of my favorite pieces in the series is about Portland’s “Valentine’s Bandit.” No matter how familiar you might be with the legend of the bandit, and the story of the person behind the long-kept secret, this piece is a revelation. It’s intimate and far-reaching, letting us hear firsthand from a wife and daughter how simple red paper hearts went from a charming prank, to a beloved tradition, to a gift that’s made a lasting mark on the state — one that, in fact, continues to grow and change: after the mass shooting in Lewiston in 2023, blue hearts appeared across the city as a message of resilience.

Curating a collection of stories about Maine, made in Maine, opened my eyes and heart to people and places I might never have encountered if not for Salt and Maine Public. The work of finding, making and sharing local stories by local reporters is important. It builds bridges and breaks down barriers. It helps us stay curious and present. It helps us see ourselves and our neighbors in new ways.

I believe that part of the work of a lifetime is learning to tell your own story — even if only to yourself and your closest people. The stories of our lives evolve. They get complicated, they take unexpected turns and they’re full of uncertainty. When we invest in listening to each other’s stories, when we give each other the gift of our attention, we share in creating a space to dream and create and shoulder challenges together. This work — of sharing our stories and listening to each other — is vital. It’s not a luxury. It takes dedication and generosity and a commitment to supporting our community.

Public media has always been a champion of this kind of storytelling. It makes time for stories that speak to all aspects of living a life with others — from investigative reports that challenge injustices, to personal essays that beam hilarity into the quest to understand ourselves, to shows for kids led by emotionally intelligent creatures who have plenty to say to adults, too.

There is no one story or place or experience that can capture the essence of Maine. There can only be, I believe, a commitment to continue reporting and telling stories that question the very notion that there is an essence.

Maine Public is uniquely positioned to do this work. Its television, radio and classical programming not only reaches people across the state, it connects the people who live here with stories that cover that life across many timescales: from concise local newscasts to deep-dives on evolving issues in education and the environment, to televised events that place Mainers at the State House, in the woods, at concerts, on the courts during high school basketball tournaments.

I hope the stories in “Essential Salt” contribute to this work. And I hope this is work you’ll support by staying curious, by supporting local journalism, by talking to your neighbors. Maine Public’s reporters and producers will continue to champion local storytelling and foster connections that enrich life in Maine.

Listen to “Essential Salt” episodes and find more richly reported stories from Maine Public at mainepublic.org/storytelling.