Print journalism’s seemingly inexorable move toward the digital-first platform is neither new nor a fresh topic in this space. Still, the argument over how to do it well remains unsettled.

So it was interesting to listen to Mickey Ciokaljo, community editor of the Kalamazoo (Mich.) Gazette, part of MLive Media Group, speak to the Kalamazoo Rotary about the venerable newspaper’s experience in emphasizing digital ahead of print.

Ciokaljo—pronounced “chi-KY-loh,” in case you wondered—explained that the incredible growth of information resources through the World Wide Web has forced newspapers to change.

“The old model eroded beneath our feet,” he explained. Two years ago, when the Gazette embraced digital-first, he characterized it like this: “We’re building the Ark, and it’s raining.”

“News is still part of the landscape, but there is so much other information out there,” Ciokaljo said. It prompted a fundamental rethinking of the Gazette’s mission, which is now about creating “an economically sustainable model that will serve our community with quality local journalism for years to come.”

Ciokaljo said the digital-first model has allowed the Gazette to do some things differently and other things that print alone didn’t offer:

Breaking news. “The Internet put us back in the breaking-news game,” he said—but better than before. When Sarkozy Bakery, a beloved local business, was destroyed by fire in 2012, the Gazette was able to post stories, updates and photos during the fire and in the aftermath, which in turn fed comprehensive coverage in the print version the next day. Ciokaljo also pointed out that the Gazette’s print-honed practice of “sticking with the story” kept it covering Sarkozy’s recovery all the way to the opening of a new bakery this year.

In-depth journalism. The decline of print has raised the concern that investigative and enterprise journalism would fall off as well. Ciokaljo begs to differ; he pointed out recent Gazette stories—the Portage Public Schools superintendent search that might have violated the Open Meetings Act, the coverage of infant mortality rates in Kalamazoo County, and juvenile arrest rates in the region—prove that the 177-year-old news provider still pursues in-depth journalism.

Community engagement. Gazette reporters are expected to engage in dialogue with readers who comment online. Because some stories generate a lot of feedback—not all of it constructive—that’s a significant time investment on top of their regular assignments. The Gazette also hosts live chats with newsmakers and provides opportunities for quick rebuttals to its editorial stands.

In Ciokaljo’s view, digital-first isn’t an option, or at least it isn’t if one expects a newspaper to survive in the 21st century. Not everyone is convinced, though. Ciokaljo fielded at least one pointed comment lamenting the decline in certain news items covered more robustly in the print-only past. And based on recent studies, the print model is far from dead.

As I’ve stated before, I think the argument between platforms is less about “that vs. this” as it is about finding the right balance. I’m not sure any news outlet on the planet, including MLive, has struck that balance quite yet. Indeed, I’m not sure anyone really knows what that balance is. But I commend Ciokaljo and his team for continuing the effort in a thoughtful, journalistic manner.

In a recent Facebook post, a journalist friend of mine mentioned a discussion with a colleague in which they wondered, having spent their careers as interviewers, what it’s like to be the interviewee.

It’s a good question. Unfortunately, even those of us who have played both roles don’t ask it often enough.

So it was refreshing to read the musings of Brian O’Driscoll, the soon-to-retire star of Ireland rugby, in his 2005 book, A Year In The Centre. O’Driscoll played his last international match this past weekend, leading the Irish side to its second-ever Six Nations championship. The photo he tweeted of his soiled jersey and cleats, removed for the last time, must have left many an Irish eye tearful.

When O’Driscoll wrote his bestseller—essentially a journal of his playing year, which included his tragically brief captaincy of the British & Irish Lions—he was shy of his barely a quarter-century old. While he’d already enjoyed a stunning career, some of his greatest experiences still lay ahead.

Yet, despite his youth, O’Driscoll held a mature view of the rugby news media. Though wary in their presence—they could be vicious when aroused—he appreciated good, thoughtful reporters.

“Some of the journos are interesting guys with different takes on things,” he noted. “Close contact with excellence, in any form, is always inspiring.”

As a result, O’Driscoll made every effort to give them something useful. “You try to treat every new interview as seriously as the previous one,” he said.

Still, O’Driscoll had an uneven experience with the press. He disliked being media trained—“I pride myself on being able to think on my feet and formulate my own views and have worked hard over the last couple of years to be informative and honest”—yet  he sometimes naively put his foot in it. In one instance, he referenced the cyclical nature of rugby dynasties and was accused of making a dig against England.

O’Driscoll was infuriated when British and Irish reporters reported false rumors about his Lions teammates with no effort to check the facts. And he fumed at the slanted coverage of his injury against New Zealand, when two All-Blacks players pile-drove him into the turf and dislocated his shoulder; only one NZ paper dared criticize the home team.

As on the rugby pitch, O’Driscoll gave his best and expected others to do so, too. He gave respect and expected it in return. Anything less diminished the efforts of all.

Therein lies a good rule of thumb, regardless of which side of the microphone one stands.

Any infractions were forgiven as O’Driscoll gave his last interviews on Saturday, still clad in the soiled Ireland jersey he’d later enshrine on Twitter, still willing to give a reporter something useful.

“I know now why I’m packing it in,” he observed, a twinkle in his eye, “because 80 minutes is a long bloody time at international level, particularly with guys like (six-foot, 271-pound French center) Mathieu Bastareaud running at you. It’s no fun.”

A few weeks ago, I stood before a theater audience and said words I never, in my wildest dreams, ever thought I’d utter:

“My name is Rick Chambers, and I’m a writer for ‘Star Trek.’”

Specifically, Star Trek: Phase II, a Web-based fan version of the original 1960s television series. How I became associated with this highly professional, globally acclaimed series is a story in itself—and therein lies a lesson for us in the public relations field.

Phase II is the dream child of James Cawley, widely considered the greatest living Trek fan. His lifelong passion for the show led him to create the series in 2003 (then known as Star Trek: New Voyages), bringing together a talented mix of actors, filmmakers and production people to carry on the adventures of Kirk, Spock and McCoy. Cawley’s mantra from the start has been quality—in writing, in performance and in production values.

While Cawley wasn’t the first to bring Star Trek to the Internet, his version showed the world how to do it well. The award-winning success of Phase II has inspired other iterations within the Trek universe, among them Star Trek Continues (another take on the original show) and a fascinating prequel now in pre-production, Star Trek Axanar.

My slice of the story begins in early 2011. I’m a Trek fan from early childhood and credit the original show with inspiring me to be a writer. Through a series of wondrous coincidences, I connected with a writer/producer on the show. I pitched a story I’d been carrying in my head for nearly 40 years: a sequel to the original Trek episode, “Bread and Circuses.” In that episode, the Enterprise crew visits a parallel Earth in which the Roman Empire and the fledgling Christian faith have survived to the 20th century. My story, “Bread and Savagery,” tells what happens next. (Sorry, friends, no spoilers here!)

To my amazed delight, Phase II accepted “Bread and Savagery” and filmed it in June 2012. I attended the shoot—meaning I had that magical experience of stepping onto stunningly faithful recreations of the original Enterprise sets and watching talented people turn my story into an actual episode of Star Trek. Indeed, one powerful scene by two great guest stars left me fighting back tears of joy.

To have the chance to write an episode of Star Trek four decades after the show was cancelled goes beyond every writing fantasy I’ve ever had. But that wasn’t the end of the story.

During the 2012 shoot, I was invited to pitch another episode in which Kirk encounters a very special woman, one who would change his life profoundly. That pitch became the episode “The Holiest Thing,” which was filmed in June 2013 and is nearing its official release.

In February of this year, actor Brian Gross (who portrays Captain James T. Kirk) and I were in a packed theater of enthusiastic fans for a screening of “The Holiest Thing” in Kalamazoo. What’s more, Gross and I did a brief circuit of media interviews, which proved both the enduring fame of Star Trek and the fascination that people hold for a dream-come-true story.

And now we’re back to where this blog began. In this world of information overload and microsecond attention spans, it’s harder and harder for PR professionals to engage audiences in meaningful ways. Yet there’s one tool that has endured since the dawn of humanity: the value of storytelling. People will tune in to stories, especially real-life, dream-come-true ones. They entertain, they inspire and they give people hope that their dreams, too, might become reality.

Every circle in which PR pros operate holds a wealth of stories. We simply need to look hard enough and then tell them well.