How to Actually Get a Meaningful Obituary in the Star Tribune
Writing an obituary for the Star Tribune is one of those tasks that looks simple until you sit down at the keyboard and realize you are trying to compress a whole life into 400 words. The publication has standards, yes, but the real challenge is figuring out what those standards actually look like in practice. I spent years helping families navigate this process, and I can tell you that most people get stuck on the same three things: tone, length, and the hidden cost of photos. The Star Tribune charges by the line for the print edition and by the word for the digital version. A standard obituary runs about 300 to 500 words and costs somewhere in the neighborhood of $300 to $700 depending on length. Adding a photo bumps the price up another $100 or so. If you are working with a tight budget, keep the text lean and skip the photo unless it is absolutely essential. The online version gets far more traffic anyway, so a well-written digital-only obituary often reaches more people than a cramped print version ever would.
Star Tribune Obituary Honoring Lives Preserving Stories A Guide To Remembering Minneapolis Icons
Minneapolis has a long tradition of recognizing local figures through its obituary pages. When someone like Walter Mondale or Patricia Morison passed, the paper dedicated substantial space to their lives. Those long-form pieces are usually commissioned or coordinated through the newspaper's staff rather than submitted by families. For the average reader, that distinction matters because it changes how much control you have over the final product. Standard obituaries go through an editorial review process where the paper may trim or rephrase content that does not meet their style guidelines. Submitted copy gets a shorter review window, typically 24 to 48 hours before publication. Here is something most guides do not tell you: the Star Tribune prefers obituaries written in a semi-narrative style rather than a strict chronological resume format. They want a story, not a list. I once helped a family submit a perfectly accurate but deeply dry obituary for a man who had worked at Honeywell for forty-two years. The editor cut half the employment history and replaced it with two paragraphs about his woodshop hobby and the annual deer camp tradition he maintained with his nephews. The family was initially frustrated, then they saw how many people responded to those personal details instead of the job titles. It was a useful lesson. Another practical detail that trips people up involves the submission deadline. The Star Tribune runs obituaries Monday through Saturday, and standard submissions need to come in by 3 p.m. the day before you want them printed. Rush submissions are available for an additional fee but only if you call the obituary desk directly. Email submissions alone will not guarantee next-day publication. The phone number is listed on their official site, and it is worth saving it before you need it.
There is also a common misconception about what counts as a "Minneapolis icon" in these pages. You do not need to have been famous to appear in the obituary section. The Star Tribune publishes hundreds of standard obituaries every week for regular citizens. The guide that circulates online about remembering Minneapolis icons is really just a curated collection highlighting particularly notable local figures, not a rulebook for who qualifies. Anyone who died in the metro area can be honored, regardless of public recognition. If you want your submission to stand a real chance of being published without heavy edits, write it like you are telling a friend about the person. Lead with a concrete memory rather than a generic opening like "died peacefully surrounded by family." Include one or two specific anecdotes that reveal character. Name the organizations they served, the hobbies they kept past retirement, the way they showed up for people. These details matter more than listing every survivor or every award. The biggest bottleneck I encountered involved families who tried to write the obituary themselves during acute grief and then sent in something that needed extensive rewriting. I would suggest drafting it within the first few days after death but letting it sit for a day or two before submitting. Reread it then, cut the fluff, and verify every date and name. A single incorrect birth year or misspelled name can delay publication while the paper verifies the facts. One of my regulars had her father's middle initial wrong, and the.obituary ran with the error for three days before a correction appeared. It sounded small but relatives called her upset because the mistake spread quickly online.
Get the Full Details
There are some hard limitations you should know about. The Star Tribune does not publish condolence messages or tribute content within the obituary itself. If you want readers to share memories, you have to direct them to the digital comment section or set up a separate memorial page elsewhere. Funeral home websites like Bagnal Brothers or L & H Family Mortuaries often handle obituary submissions on behalf of families and can sometimes negotiate faster turnaround if you have a relationship with them. This is not an endorsement, just a practical note from experience. For the most current submission guidelines and to begin the process, go to the Star Tribune's official obituary page at startribune.com/obituaries. That is the only reliable source for pricing, deadlines, and format requirements. Third-party obituary mills exist, but they add fees and often introduce errors that slow everything down. Doing it through the paper directly keeps costs transparent and gives you a direct line to the editorial desk if something goes wrong. The whole process takes roughly 30 to 45 minutes if you have the basic information ready: full legal name, dates of birth and death, surviving family members, biographical highlights, service details, and a photo if you want one. Prepare those items beforehand and you can have the obituary submitted the same evening. Waiting until the last day to gather facts is how people end up with rushed, inaccurate content or miss their preferred publication date entirely. I have seen it happen too many times to count.
