Kari Howard was a storytelling editor who championed the kind of writing that focuses on life's small but meaningful moments: resilience, dignity, absurdity, gut-busting humor, and heartbreak. The kind of storytelling that makes readers feel as though they have truly met someone, reminding them that lives beyond their own are real and worth knowing.

She had a particular fondness for love stories. She admired writing that captured a sense of place, whether making the natural world sing, flutter, and crunch beneath the reader's feet, or bringing a city street vividly to life with its sounds, rhythms, and even the scent of ramen noodles.

To writers, Kari offered kindness, enthusiasm, and clarity. She created a space where they could take risks, try approaches that might fail, ask the same question one more time, or experiment with structure and form.

In her editing notes, she often highlighted lines that moved her to tears—sometimes simply typing “sob!” in the margin. For many writers, earning one of Kari’s distinctive bursts of laughter was among the highest compliments their work could receive.

Editing with Kari often meant discussing whether the rhythm of a sentence should be da-DA-da or da-da-DA. Passionate about music, she paid close attention to the cadence and musicality of prose. Through her newsletters for Nieman Storyboard, she celebrated exceptional writing and frequently paired reading recommendations with pieces of music, much as one might select the perfect wine to accompany a memorable meal.

Conversations about stories were wide-ranging, warm, and seemingly aimless. Kari believed that the insights most important to a story often emerged from casual remarks made along the way.

At the same time, she understood the realities of journalism. She combined her sense of wonder and curiosity with determination and remarkable negotiating skills, becoming a tireless advocate for narrative journalists and their work.

Her loss deeply affected a community of journalists, both personally and professionally. It also left a void in a style of storytelling that increasingly feels rare, one that Kari championed with exceptional dedication.

What is at stake is essential: truthful, timely stories about everyday life and ordinary people experiencing extraordinary moments.

Kari believed that narrative journalism combined the nuance and poetry of fiction with journalism’s greatest strength: it is true.

Kari’s mother, Diane Howard, her sister, Alison Howard, and friends and colleagues from the Los Angeles Times and Reuters News are determined that this kind of journalism should continue to thrive. To support that mission, the Kari Howard Fund for Narrative Journalism awards annual grants to support reporting and publication projects that tell compelling human stories, wherever they may be found.