I’m going to try writing again. Mom says I used to be good at it. We’ll see.

This is the first installment of what I hope will be a regular column taking readers behind the scenes of what we do.

I first want to thank you for reading this. If you’re with me, it means you’re a customer of some sort — subscriber, newsstand buyer, or guest at your aunt’s house, flipping through the local weekly.

I’ve been in this business, at this newspaper company, for most of my adult life. These days, I’m the person in charge.

Here’s how I plan to use this column. I want to explain tough newsroom decisions. I want to talk about the economics of our industry. I want to be a watchdog on the communities we cover. I want to be a megaphone for voices that deserve amplification. I also want to hear and answer your questions — about what we do, and why we do it.

This week, I’m reflecting on the thin line between order and chaos for our business.

Delivering the news is a remarkably complex endeavor. It requires skilled and trained professionals to make infinite small decisions that blend ethics, experience and rules into a cocktail we call “editorial judgment.” It is also a very blunt endeavor. It requires skilled laborers with years of experience to blend metal, machinery, paper and ink into the product you’re reading right now.

Too often, a single misstep can derail the entire system. This happened twice last week.

First came a keystroke error.

We use a shared Google Doc to communicate vital information to our printer. Page counts, print quantities, advertising inserts and data for post office reports are all captured in a single, shared spreadsheet.

Last week, we made one tiny mistake. Instead of reporting that our Sakonnet Times was going to be 16 pages, we typed “12.” A single keystroke in a complex spreadsheet was wrong.

Our printer, following the spreadsheet, set up the Sakonnet Times press run for 12 pages. Even though we sent them a 16-page layout, they printed only 12 pages and did not realize the error until it was too late to re-plate and re-run the press.

We had two choices: send everyone a paper missing four pages of content, including many paid advertisements; or wait until there was an opportunity to start over and deliver the correct Sakonnet Times a day late. We chose the latter.

The next day brought a new misstep – this one, inexplicably. The Sakonnet Times was printed and ready to go (albeit a day late), and so were the Bristol Phoenix, Portsmouth Times and East Providence Post, per their normal schedule. At 2 a.m. Thursday morning, all seemed on track.

Until something happened that we don’t fully understand … For some reason that no one comprehends, the driver of the truck carrying our six pallets of newspapers was re-routed to another destination in the opposite direction. Instead of arriving at our Bristol office between 4 and 5 a.m., per normal, he arrived at nearly 10 a.m.

By the time he got there, the damage was done. The papers arrived at the Bristol Post Office too late to be distributed in Thursday’s mail. The Sakonnet Times was delayed yet another day. And all of our newsstand copies, not to mention the schedules and lives for our team of delivery drivers, were delayed half a day.

We sent emails to thousands of subscribers, and we changed the outgoing message on our phone voicemail system, but alas, a few hours later the phones started ringing. We heard endless versions of “I didn’t get my paper!”

I spent much of Thursday afternoon calling back subscribers to explain the situation. My longtime colleague, Jock Hayes, spoke to about three times as many as I did.

It made for a fun and frustrating day. The fun part was hearing from and talking to longtime subscribers who felt the loss of the missing paper. It was like a friend had promised to stop by for coffee and went AWOL.

One woman, who was waiting by her broken-down car for AAA to arrive, saw our email about the delayed papers and the invitation to pick up a free one at the office. She walked to the office and grabbed a free paper to pass the time.

It is reassuring to know people care. It is less assuring to be reminded that your entire business teeters on a thin line between order and chaos.

I enjoyed lunch with a retired publisher not long ago and we were talking about the fragility of our operations. He quipped, “It was a [bleeping] miracle anytime that paper hit the street.” He was talking about his paper, but I can assure you, dear reader, he could be talking about any paper.

Thank you for taking the time to read this bleeping miracle. We’re already hard at work trying to make it happen again next week.

Scott Pickering is publisher of East Bay Media Group. He can be reached at: spickering@eastbaymediagroup.com.