Science / Silence: Notes on a Media Fast

December 4, 2009 at 5:39 pm (Facebook, creativity, fiction, humor, news, personal, philosophizing, professional development, reader's advisory, reviews, traditional library services)

One of my favorite short stories is Ray Bradbury’s “The Pedestrian.”  In a future world, where everyone lives for television, Leonard Mead likes to go walking alone at night.  During one of his pedestrian jaunts, he is arrested and sent to the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies.  After all, why would anyone wish to be out in the moonlight, drinking in the air, when s/he could be inside staring at a shiny box?

Perhaps I’m exaggerating just a bit for effect, but I felt a little bit like Leonard Mead last week when I gave up media consumption, for science.  If embracing technology is progressive, and eschewing it is regressive, I wanted to create my own little Center for Regressive Tendencies and see what horrible things would happen as a result of stepping out of the lifestream for a little while.

I’m pleased to report that nobody died, and nothing caught fire.  I did, however, learn a lot about my media consumption patterns, including a few things that surprised me.  And, because I’m human, I totally fell off the wagon on one memorable occasion…but in an unexpected way.

Positive effects

Overall, it was a relief to step away from the near-constant stream of news and information modern culture provides.  While I missed the psychological rituals around reading a print newspaper, for example, doing without the actual content made me feel lighter and happier.  Not once was I tempted to skim news online.  Co-workers, most of whom didn’t know I was media fasting, clued me in on everything important happening locally and nationally, so I was still able to discuss current events with patrons. 

When I did engage with job-related technology functions, I did so with a critical eye toward how much time I spent doing it, and whether or not it was to my ultimate benefit.  After two days of analyzing job-related newsreading, I was able to unsubscribe from a lot of services, as they were either repetitive or not adding value to my workday.  I found out I could fuss over Eleventh Stack and CLPicks much less than I do, and still maintain high standards.  Best of all, I felt a lot less frazzled and a lot more clear-headed.  It’s one thing to know, logically, that you can’t process all the information that’s out there; it’s another thing entirely to feel the practical effects of voluntarily limiting what you consume.

At the reference desk, I turned the media fast into a creative challenge:  how many questions could I answer without turning to the world wide web or a database?  Many of them, as it turns out.  Never underestimate the power of the humble dictionary, thesaurus, almanac, phone book, and encyclopedia to get you what you need.  At my library, we also keep Consumer Reports (including the buying guides), Morningstar and ValueLine at desk reference too, and with good reason, because they’re asked for a lot. 

[What's interesting there is that even when we let people know they have web options for accessing these materials, 9 times out of 10 they still prefer print - just life in the magic print-centric bubble that is Pittsburgh, I reckon...but I digress.]

Overall, I found myself slowing down more, paying closer attention to things, and, as a result, becoming a lot more efficient and effective.  I was even able to make time to do things I’ve been trying to do for months, like reorganizing my work space.   This tendency carried over to personal projects I’d been working on, allowing me to win National Novel Writing Month three days early, finish a number of other writing tasks, and spend a lot more time with my family, friends, and cats. I walked for miles and miles, because I could, and I even made homemade pizza crusts for the first time in years (until you’ve tasted my homemade pizzas, you simply cannot understand what a boon this is to humanity).

Loveliest of all, I read a lot of books.  Slowly.  In print.  I savored every moment I could spent with a physical text object in my hands, curled up in a comfy place, with coffee by my side.   Here’s a partial list:

The Adept, Kurtz/Harris. First in a series. Fantasy fiction, but with a tone like Alexander McCall Smith’s Isabel Dalhousie series. If you like your magick high, crispy and historically accurate, you might enjoy this one.

The Ancient Mysteries Reader, Haining, ed. Poe! Machen! Bulwer-Lytton! Love! Er, that is to say, if you fancy rare 19th-century gems of fact and fiction, this is your book.

Rainbow’s End, Vinge. This one’s singular: loads of conspiracy theory and politics wrapped around medical advances that incorporate technology with humanity. Oh, and a white rabbit. A lovely, head-scratcher of a novel for those who like their sci-fi complicated and a touch pessimistic.

The Stories of John Cheever. For my fiction class, but no less lovely for all that. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed classic stories like “The Enormous Radio” and “The Swimmer.” It was lovely, too, to discover just how deeply his gifts ran through the canon of his work. They don’t write ‘em like that anymore.

Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos, various. Some Clark Ashton Smith stories that were “new to me,” as well as My First Machen (and if that’s not yet a stuffed animal, look out patent office, because here I come). Lovecraft is okay, I suppose, but I’m far fonder of what his friends and literary descendants did with what he gave them.

The Complete Stories, O’Connor. Also for my fiction class. When you read Flannery O’Connor, you can feel the genius rising up from the page. What’s most beautiful about this collection is the arrangement, which follows the order of original publication. Best of all, the first story in the collection, “The Geranium”–which appeared as part of O’Connor’s MFA thesis–grows and blossoms into “Judgement Day,” a revision she published near the end of her life. Beautiful fiction, bookended by the growth of genius. Also, peacocks!

Desert Gothic, Waters. This prizewinning short story collection caught my eye by virtue of its title, and kept my eye by virtue of its attention to characterization. Rarely does one care so much about the people one meets in short stories, but I found myself almost believing they were real (no mean feat, given my cynical, critical eye). “Mr. Epstein and the Dealer” and “Mineral and Steel” are the standouts here, but the whole collection is a solid way to pass the time, if you like quality short fiction.

The Elegant Gathering of White Snows, Radish. Reviewed this for Eleventh Stack. I have nothing to add but this: sisterhood is powerful.

I’ll spare you the non-fiction picks. Interested parties please ping – if I took the time to list them, we’d be here all night! Suffice to say, with so many good books to read, being without technology was mostly no problem. There were, however, one or two glitches in the system.

“Negative” Effects

Perhaps “uncomfortable” is a better word. See for yourself.

While most of the media fast proved beneficial, there were some less-than-pleasant aspects to it.  For one thing, about four days in, I started really missing Facebook.

When you get to be my age–suffice to say I’m one of those people over thirty you’re not supposed to trust–you know a lot of people.  Not as many as those of you further along in life, but a lot.  And, the economy being what it is, not all of them live in Pittsburgh.  Thanks to Facebook, I’m in close contact with people from grade school chums through library school peers.  Having them all in the same place is even better, because then they get to meet each other; it makes me deeply happy to know that I’ve introduced tons of people who originally had nothing but me in common, and now have solid, established friendships of their own.

So, solitary creature that I am, I still enjoy being social, on my own terms, and Facebook made that easy.  Without it–even though I had a pretty full social calendar–I still felt disconnected from a lot of people I care about.  Avoiding it was psychologically challenging, and when I logged in at the end of the week, I felt re-connected…even though, technically, I hadn’t missed anything life or career-changing.

I also missed YouTube like crazy.  As, I suspect, a compensation for my extremely poor eyesight, I’m very sensitive to sound, highly musical.  There’s always a tune in my head, and I like to listen to music while I do mundane tasks.

A little silence was wholesome and beneficial for me, to be sure.  The funny thing about silence, though, is that the more you have of it, the more clarity you achieve in certain areas…and that cuts both ways.  I had a number of epiphanies, both bright and dark, and learned quite a few things about myself that I didn’t even realize I was covering up by having a constant soundtrack.  Ultimately this is for the good, but it was a somewhat uncomfortable process to go through.

Finally, I did fall off the wagon once, in a very big way that I did not expect.

My dislike of television is legendary around here.  I don’t own a set, and I’m really fussy about what series I check out on DVD.  This could be because, television-wise, I’m a serial monogamist.  I like my Dr. Who old-school, my X-Files episodes with no UST whatsoever, and my vampires non-negotiably non-sparkly, kthnxbye. I am, in short, a television snob.

And then, straight out of left field, Torchwood.

I’d been on hold for this forever, as the wait list was very long. I had no way of knowing my number would come up during my media fast. I was just going to watch one episode anyway, to be polite, and not hurt a co-worker’s feelings. So I figured this would be no big deal, a teensy little rule-break.

I didn’t expect to fall in love with the darn thing. Much like meeting the perfect romantic partner when you least expect it, watching Torchwood hit me like a ton of bricks, and I am now an unapologetic, unabashed Capt. Jack Harkness fangirl.

Darn you, sir. Darn you all to heck! You know who you are. :)

In all seriousness, this isn’t really a bad thing either. Quality television shows are rare, and since nobody will sell me an a la carte package with just BBC America in it, I’m always grateful to get the scoop on the good stuff. But do I really need to get sucked into another television show? What about all the writing I need to do, and all those as-yet unkneaded homemade pizza crusts?

Sigh.

Outcomes

I’ve come away from this little experiment more convinced than ever that there are definite benefits to putting limits on one’s media intake and social technology consumption.  At the same time, I’ve also come to realize just how much I depend on certain media for some things, and am actively questioning whether or not that’s what I really want.

In other words, moderation and critical thinking, two things that seem sorely lacking from many fields of discourse these days.  It’s unfortunate that moving more slowly on some matters, or exhibiting  a degree of skepticism and/or scientific inquiry, is perceived as regressive.  I’m a huge fan of changes and advances, but, I would argue, those changes and advances should be playtested.  Anything embraced uncritically, and without limits, has the potential to do great harm.

Indeed, I think, it gives us societies like the one that scorned poor Leonard Mead.  Enchanted by the glow from their television sets, the deluded populace probably never stopped to consider the moon.  Let us hope that, as library scientists, we can apply the same standards to our own media participation, keep what is useful, and reject what is, ultimately, distracting us from the other valuable realities all around us.

In other words, seriously, you need to try one of my homemade pizzas.  Just call or text before you come over; I might be watching Torchwood.

Things I want to write about at some point include:

  • the day I spent at my library as a patron instead of a worker
  • how a library vibe differs from a coffeeshop vibe, IMHO, and why the twain should not necessarily meet
  • a news update from the big white elephant, who was recently put on a diet (whew)

Until next week sometime, however, I remain your cheerfully irreverent alchemist.  Have a good weekend!

2 Comments

Straight to Pink, Fade to Black

November 20, 2009 at 7:00 am (humor, personal, philosophizing, professional development)

Part the First:  Keeping Up Apperances

In a perfect world, we would never be judged by our appearances, ever.  In the world in which we operate, we run the risk of not being taken seriously by our professional peers if we look too far afield of whatever passes for the norm in our library.  Public librarians tend to have a bit more latitude in this regard…depending, of course, on where their library is.  Two phrases that inevitably pop up whenever the discourse runs down this track are “professional demeanor” and “community standards.”

My own theory on this point is that, if you choose a look that’s out of the mainstream, you’d better be prepared to work twice as hard to demonstrate what a great worker you are.   Unfair, perhaps, but unavoidable.  Alas, I lack empirical evidence with which to back up this theory.

That’s where you come in.   Participation in the “Straight to Pink” poll will, hopefully, net a cross-section of opinions and experiences from which we can hope to derive some sort of consensus…or at least start an interesting discussion about something different for a change!

So, for science, here’s your poll:

I tried to take into account all possible scenarios, but if there’s an angle I’ve overlooked, I’d love to hear about it in the comments field.  And please note that I don’t really have a dog in this particular race; with me, it’s not a question of whether I’ll be outrageous, but, rather, when.  I’m thinking, for example, that the time to switch to an astonishing haircolor is after achieving a major goal, and not before.

Part the Second:  Media Fasting

Next week’s experiment is a media fast, as described here.

In some ways this will be “easy.”  I’m already TV-free (gotta love library DVDs), and on the rare occasions I listen to the radio, I listen online.  All I really had to do was cancel my newspaper for a week, and set up parameters for internet usage:  I can use the web for anything job-related, but nothing personal.  The only exception I’m making is updating my NaNoWriMo word count, since I’d already committed to doing that this month.

Again, this is for science.  You see, I remember the time before, when we didn’t have all of this fun stuff.  I want to create a little wayback machine and see if I can rediscover how I spent my time before Facebook, RSS feeds, Twitter and, heaven help me, all those online games I play.  I suspect I read more books, completed more craft projects, worked more crossword puzzles, and spent more time with my friends.  We shall see.

But LAV, you might protest, why would you do that to yourself?  We have all this shiny stuff now, and it’s marvelous!  For the most part, yes, that’s true.  We have some great shiny stuff, and it IS marvelous.  However, it is not the only thing in life that is marvelous.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  while I’m open to innovation and change, I fear that, culturally, we are throwing out the baby with the bathwater, privileging certain kinds of experience over others that still have much to offer.  I want empirical evidence about how I spent my time when the technology is not an option.  I want to see if I experience “technology withdrawal” or not, and I want to see what, if anything, I really miss by being away from the whole shebang for a week.

I’ll report back on the 30th, or thereabouts, and tell you how it went.  In my absence, I hope those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving have a lovely holiday.

4 Comments

Library Workaholics Anonymous: Notes on Work and Play

November 17, 2009 at 3:59 pm (blogging, humor, philosophizing, presentations, professional development)

“I wake up every day torn between the desire to save the world and to savor the world.  This makes it hard to plan the day.” –E.B. White

My name’s LAV, and I’m a library workaholic.

By this I mean I have a hard time saying no to anything.  I get to work early, I stay late, and I have to be reminded to take my time back.  I struggle to make time for breaks and lunch, and sometimes I’m so involved with what I’m doing, I forget to eat.  I volunteer for things no matter how many things I’ve already volunteered for, and I’ve never met a committee assignment I didn’t like.  Every day I get at least twenty brilliant ideas that are going to inevitably result in more work for myself, so of course I try to do them all at once.  Finally, whenever I try to set boundaries, say no to assignments,  and delegate tasks to other people, I end up caving faster than a master spelunker the first time I meet any resistance. 

Behold, the shadow side of finding your life’s work:  the inability, sometimes, to let it go and get a life. 

I imagine this would trouble me more than it does, except for one thing:  I play just as hard as I work.  And I’m always looking for opportunities to incorporate play into my work.  Let us take, for example, the presentation I gave last week at The School of Information Sciences at the University of Pittsburgh:

A quick flip through those slides tells you something about my sense of humor, but also demonstrates my commitment not to take any of this too seriously.  I love our electronic resources, and I want to do a good job, but I want to make sure I keep the work within its proper perspective.

Did you wince at that, just a little?  Me too.  It sounds…sacreligious, almost, the idea that we could take anything we do too seriously.  And yet, there it is in a squirmy nutshell, the need to be devoted and passionate without becoming a monomaniac, the kind of person people avoid at parties because they can’t stop talking about library service for five seconds.

Hence the silence here at Alchemy:  there’s been a lot of other work to do, and I’ve sacrificed library blogging in favor of play.  This year I’m participating in National Novel Writing Month, colloquially known as NaNoWriMo, and I’m having the time of my life. I just crossed the 30K word count over the weekend, and I can’t even begin to tell you how liberating it feels to cast aside the fear of “not being good enough” and just let the words ripple out.

In fact, I feel taller, somehow, and much more confident about my library workload.  After all,  if I can write a 50,000 word novel in a month (albeit a bad one), what else can I do?  Heaven only knows.   And NaNo actually has a whole plan for library programming, so it’s not all that far afield from library work after all – ah, those slippery slopes!

Reading Zen Habits has also proved helpful in my never-ending quest to balance work and play.  If you’re looking for a kinder, gentler productivity blog, try sampling its advice on taking action, cleaning up your workspace, and even the whole workaholic thing at large. It’s even good for a hearty laugh from time to time (of all possible workplace challenges one could face, that one never crossed my mind).  The overriding theme of the blog is achieving more by letting go, which sounds counter-intuitive.  I suggest, though, that you approach this notion the same way you approached the last Library 2.0 innovation you tried – test it out for a month, see how it works, discard if necessary.

How do you know if you’ve got the work-play fulcrum set right for you?  You’ll know.  You’ll know because, in spite of everything, you will feel joyful, even when you are not always happy.  If library work doesn’t make you feel joyful at the core, well…that’s a blog post for another day.

I’ll have a quick update on Friday to announce my next crazy little experiment, and there will also be a poll in which I ask your opinion on a matter of critical import.  Stay tuned.

2 Comments

10 Things I Will Do When I’m A Library Director

October 28, 2009 at 5:03 pm (blogging, creativity, ethics, humor, innovation, intellectual freedom, leadership, management, philosophizing, professional development, social justice)

I think about the future a lot.  The present is a good place to be; some would argue it’s the only place to be.  But I also believe in lifelong learning and growing, and I already know that, someday, I want to be a library director.  So I spend a goodish chunk of my time thinking about that goal, and how I will get there.

Part of said thinking involves visualizing myself in certain situations.  What would I do if X, Y, or Z happened?  How will I interact with my board?  With my community?  With my patrons?

The result of all that thinking is this somewhat idealistic list of things I solemnly swear I will do when I am a library director.  Those of you who currently wear that hat may smile or correct me as you please, but these are my thinks based on my perspective in the here-and-now.

  1. I will know the first and last names of everybody I work with.  Yes, even if it’s a big library.  Yes, from the person who cleans the toilets to the president of my board.  I will take an active, genuine interest in their lives, seeing them not merely as employees, but as people with hopes and dreams who, properly cultivated, can make the organization more excellent via their personal growth and development.
  2. I will treat everyone on my staff with dignity and respect.  If I am wrong, I will apologize.  If I have to do something unpopular, I will explain why, and clearly.  I will communicate with them clearly and frequently, and I will respect everyone’s inherent worth, regardless of race, religion, gender, class, or favorite sports team.
  3. I will nurture and encourage innovation and change.  I will support my staff when they have wild and crazy ideas, give them the opportunity to test out their theories, even–perhaps especially–the ones of which I’m skeptical.  I will trust that they love the library and the community too, and that they have its best interests at heart.  I will actively seek out staff and volunteers who can help me create a 21st-century library for 21st-century patron needs, and I will be fearless about trying new things and making mistakes.
  4. I will pitch in and help with whatever task needs done, no matter how big or small.  Something that left a big impression on me as an undergraduate was an event the college president organized every year during homecoming.  He called it “Lance Cooks,” and it means exactly what it says:  he cooked and served food in the cafeteria line, and made conversation with everybody who passed through.  It blew my mind that the college president would do that, and it made me feel good about the future of our campus.  It also makes me want to be the director who opens the front doors every morning, a la Will Manley, or who works the circulation desk regularly.
  5. I will live in the community I serve, and become an active, engaged member of it.   No ridiculous commutes for me.  I want to be right up close to the action, shopping in the community’s stores, volunteering at its other non-profits, and getting to know its people in all sorts of situations, not just director-patron ones.  If my job is to lead a library, then I want to do it in the most accessible fashion possible.  The title of “director” should be a bridge, and not a barrier.
  6. I will dress up like a pirate on Halloween.  Okay, to be fair, I’m already planning on doing that anyway–but that’s not the point!  Leadership is a very serious business, especially during difficult times.  However, I don’t ever, ever, ever want to lose sight of the fact that, despite its difficulties, life has plenty of fun things to offer, and I will bend over backwards to create an atmosphere of fun, trust, and bonhomie in my library.
  7. I wil bend over backwards to make the arcana of librarianship transparent and comprehensible to my board.  Face it:  there are going to always be some things that only librarians care about, and that would make the community’s eyes glaze over if we tried to explain, no matter how much we prettified it.  That being said, we ARE degree-holding professionals with a particular skill set and particular rationales for why we do things.  Sometimes, that will need to be explained to a board, cheerfully, and with patience.  This is the area where I have the least expertise, but I’ve served on one strategic planning committee, and got a good introduction there to the scope of the task ahead.
  8. I will be a loud, aggressive, passionate, fearless advocate for libraries.  I will blog.  I will write collection development policies that uphold the community’s freedom to read.  I will podcast.  I will take advantage of every traditional and emerging technology to get the word out about the value of my library.  I will cultivate relationships with my local and state senators and representatives.  I will work with my Friends Group.  I will get more deeply involved at the state and national levels of library advocacy.
  9. I will embrace transparency whenever possible.  I will make it easy for community members to contact me.  I will have an open-door policy with the staff.  I will hold open houses and community meetings, and I will communicate early and often about any service changes that might come along.  I will be candid about library finances.  I will ensure, whether or not I’m actually responsible for website maintenance, that my library’s website contains the most up-to-date information about the library, its policies/procedures, and its resources.
  10. I will stay humble, grounded, and focused.  I will constantly question whether or not the actions I take are in the best interests of my staff and the community.  I will earn my salary with blood, sweat and tears, down to the last penny.  I will surround myself with intelligent people who will gently, but firmly, correct me if I am drifting off course.  I will network with other library directors and learn from their expertise, not just when I’m a newbie, but for as long as I have the privilege to lead.  I will aggressively pursue continuing education opportunities, and my default setting will be that there is always, always something more to learn.  And finally, I will be open to the lesson in all life experiences, including the gut-wrenching, painful ones.

That’s a tall order, I know.  Break it to me gently, if you must disabuse me of my idealistic notions.  But I would argue, once again, that if we give up our ideals, we are lost.  Even if they are impossible, it is in the striving that we will become better library leaders.

Er, right?

But what about the fundraising part, you ask?  Ah, fundraising.  That’s a whole post in and of itself.  Given that I’ve wanted to be a fairy godmother since I was a child, it’s yet another one of those things I muse about all the darned time.  If I get a breather, we’ll discuss it.

23 Comments

She shoots, she scores: goals ‘an @

September 8, 2009 at 5:07 pm (Learning 2.0, leadership, management, personal, philosophizing, professional development, religion)

Goals:  they’re not just for hockey anymore!

Okay, truth be told, I can’t stand hockey.  Too much fighting, and my poor beleagured eyes can’t follow the puck as it sizzles across the ice.  Come to think of it, though, those two qualities of the sport make it an excellent metaphor for trying to craft goals in an environment of uncertainty. 

It’s quite the conundrum.  You don’t want to come up with something too elaborate, lofty or specific, just in case the budget doesn’t permit it; on the other hand, you don’t want to throw in the towel entirely because, well, the final bell has not yet rung.  It has not rung today, and it is probably not going to ring tomorrow.  Ergo, you try to walk that middle path.

Here are some of my goals for 2010.

Professional Goals

  1. Learn Camtasia!  The First Floor staff are using this, and watching what they’ve come up with is really inspiring.  It could really do wonders for database promotion and training, at the CLP as well as the countywide levels.
  2. Seek out additional leadership training opportunities.  One leadership institute (and two months supervising an intern) does not an expert make.
  3. Submit something somewhere to be published.  I know, could I be a bit more vague?  I’m a little nervous about writing for publication; do I really have what it takes to actually be accepted by a refereed professional journal?  We shall see.
  4. Review in an additional genre, and be accepted as a reviewer by an additional publication.   Why not do more of what I love?
  5. Increase the number of hours I work on virtual reference.  That one depends heavily on which way the budget axe falls, but if you’re going to shoot, shoot for the moon.  I’m writing an open letter to Gov. Rendell about this, in my head, as we speak.

Personal Goals

Wait, what?  In accordance with the holistic principles of Library Alchemy, I cheerfully submit that the chance of achieving the goals listed above increase exponentially in proportion to the care I lavish on my personal development outside my job.  Ergo, personal goals:

  1. Design and complete a course in fiction writing, based on The Portable MFA in Creative Writing.  I’ve actually written up a syllabus and am technically on week two of the course, though, little Hermione Granger that I am, I’m actually a week or so ahead on the assignments.  Those of you on Facebook have already been subjected to lengthy squee about this, so I’ll spare you in this forum, but do feel free to ping me for details if you are interested.
  2. Participate in a spiritual retreat.  Spirituality is an uneasy thing to speak of aloud, not only because people assume you want to convert them to your way of thinking, but also because no words can adequately express what’s going on in one’s heart.  The phrase “I’m a spiritual person” is one of the dumbest-sounding things you can say out loud, and folks who do feel obligated to say such things aloud are usually overcompensating for things they are not really doing.  All that being said, I feel the need to deepen my spiritual practice, and I think taking a long retreat is just the ticket for that.
  3. Start saving up to buy a house/loft/condo.  If it’s in the cards for me to stay here, then I think 12 years of apartment-dwelling is quite long enough, don’t you?  Seriously, I’m starting to feel the need to put down roots, and there are some lovely, affordable homes in this city.  The majority of them even have the hardwood floors I adore (wall-to-wall carpet is for people who actually enjoy housework, IMHO).  Not exactly the greatest time in the economy to start dreaming of nests and feathers, but if you look at it another way, there really never is any time like the present, is there?

So, there’s that.  I’d best get back to the things I’m working on.  I’m pretty pleased that I managed to crank out the agenda for tomorrow’s database meeting this morning, and make all the photocopies ahead of time to boot–usually this is something I’m doing 30 minutes before the meeting while biting my lip to keep from cursing the copier.   However, I have miles to go before I sleep, so I’ll leave you with the promise of another entry, soon.

What are your goals for 2010?

2 Comments

Reviewing the Situation

September 2, 2009 at 2:06 pm (ethics, professional development, reviews, traditional library services)

I love reviewing books.  If this librarian thing doesn’t work out, my backup dream is that some publisher, somewhere, is going to read one of my reviews, recognize my untapped potential, and pluck me from relative obscurity in the mid-Atlantic to a life of Dorothy Parkeresque wit in a large city (I’m partial to points west, but I’ll take Manhattan).  Slain by my critical insights and enraptured by my keen understanding of what makes for good fiction, I will be the darling of City X’s literary circles.  Then one of my cats will meow in my ear and I will awaken, disappointed that we didn’t get to the part of the dream where I’m playing poker with my BFF, George Clooney.

Ahem.  That is to say, I’ve been meaning to write about book reviews ever since  LJ sent me a package that contained the mother of all conundrums:  the ARC of Margaret Atwood’s new novel, The Year of the Flood.  Now that the review’s been published, I can tell you that it’s a fine line between detached library professional and gobsmacked drooling authorcrush fangirl.

I’ve reviewed for Library Journal since 2005, when my colleague, the late Cathy Duhig, encouraged me to apply. Before I found my way to library world, I’d been on my way to a PhD in literature, so when asked for my area of expertise, I wrote “literary fiction.” It didn’t occur to me that loving sci-fi and horror (which I do) could make me as qualified to review those genres as a background in literature and theory made me to review literary fiction (which it does). I know better now, and would like to sink my teeth into some genre reviewing. However, having that epiphany while staring at the ARC of someone you idolize doesn’t get your review written!

So, first you read. I stayed up late and swallowed the novel whole, because I knew I would need as much time as possible to write the darned review. My thoughts went back and forth on a variety of points for which I still don’t have great final answers:

  • What library on the planet isn’t going to purchase this novel?
  • Is that first assumption true?  If that’s true, what is the purpose of reviewing a popular / critically acclaimed author?
  • I’m completely besotted with Atwood.  Should I send it back?
  • How on earth am I going to do justice to this?

The recent switch from “recommended for” to “the verdict” didn’t help matters any.  There are some things about “the verdict” that definitely work for me:  I get the opportunity to be wittier, for one thing, which one can’t always do with the phrase ” recommended for.”  But reviews are supposed to be more than an opportunity to flaunt one’s writerly chops, and I worry that some of the reviews’ usefulness to librarians might get lost.

Unlike most of the other review journals, LJ has always been “for us, by us.”  PW is for publishers, really, more of an awareness tool.  Choice is still for librarians, but it’s mostly for academic librarians, except when it comes to the useful links, with which I beef up our delicious account.  Booklist only publishes positive reviews, so you can approach it cheerfully, confident that whatever you find inside is probably going to be a win for your library.  Kirkus is for Oscar Wilde and other malcontents, and I say that with great love.   But LJ has always been the review tool of my heart because it’s where I go to get the down and dirty, the good-bad-ugly from my peers.

I’m all for being more inclusive, and “the verdict” will definitely expose our work to a wider readership, which is, I suppose, a good thing.  However, the phrase “dance with the one who brought you” keeps coming to mind; after all, it’s not the casual reader who is going to shell out for those LJ print subscriptions.  At least, not the casual reader who saunters through the door of my public library.  To remain a viable reviewing tool, LJ reviews need to keep librarians as the core audience.  Otherwise, why print it at all?  Why not just have it entirely online?

Don’t answer that!  But do break both legs to get your hands on The Year of the Flood, especially if you care about our fragile world and its possible tempestuous futures. 175 words simply couldn’t do justice to the goodness that lies therein.

And there, I suppose, is the writerly challenge! Anyone can blather on for pages about Atwood’s genius (and many will, I’m certain). But can you get to the heart of the matter in 175 words? Almost as difficult as executing good haiku!

When next I get a moment to write, I want to do another sort of review. I’m coming up on my 2-year anniversary in my current job, and I can’t quite believe it. I want to talk a little bit about patterns and changes, as well as my goals for the year to come. These matters may be tempered by the presence or absence of a state budget, but, I assure you, we will get to them.

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Dances With Vendors: Confessions of a Clumsy Alchemist

August 27, 2009 at 5:43 pm (Facebook, Learning 2.0, databases, ethics, humor, leadership, management, personal, philosophizing, presentations, professional development)

Your alchemist is not the most graceful person on the planet.   Ever since my childhood dance teacher suggested–not unkindly, mind you–that perhaps being a prima ballerina was not in my future, I’ve been a little leery of anything that requires physical coordination.  When I do dance, it’s either in a dark, crowded room where nobody’s really looking at me, or in the privacy of my own apartment, where I can lace up my Doc Martens, crank up something gothtastic on iTunes, and let ‘er rip.

Dancing with vendors is a slightly different proposition, but, I would argue, only slightly.  The same amount of grace and dexterity is required, and there’s certainly plenty of sweat involved.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to pick the best products and services for your library.  This involves setting good boundaries, being able to say no without closing a door to future interactions, should your needs change, communicating your needs clearly, and, from time to time,  letting poor behavior roll off your back.

All things considered, strapping on a pair of pointe shoes again sometimes seems preferable!  That being said, though, I’ve been practicing this particular form of dance for about two years now, and I think I’m starting to get the hang of the basics.  Maybe in a few more years, if this sort of thing continues to be part of my responsibilities, I’ll be able to execute the pas de deux with the best of ‘em (like our former deputy director, who was, arguably, the Martha Graham of database negotiation).

Here are some behaviors that work well for me in the sense of keeping me relatively sane when doing the vendor dance.  I’d also like to offer some suggestions to vendors so that our dances together can be more enjoyable for both of us.

Dance Steps for Librarians

  1. Try scheduling vendor calls.  Your Outlook calendar can be your friend.  If your life is as busy as mine, you can’t always take a call when the vendor wants to talk…and yet, sometimes, you really will be interested in what they have to say.  Offer to schedule a time that’s convenient for you.  This cuts down on random calls, and lets vendors know you’re willing to dance.  If a vendor isn’t willing to work with you on your time, maybe it’s time to rethink that relationship.
  2. Learn to say no.  I know, I know.  If we could all figure this one out, the world would be a magical place full of sunshine and rainbows.  Still, the only way you’re going to get better at this is if you practice.  There are a million ways to say no, and many of them are kind.  “We’re going in a different direction right now” and “This doesn’t seem like the right solution for us at this time” are two examples.  There’s something to be said, as well, for the basic, “No thank you, we’re not interested right now.”  Pick your poison, but pick one (PA residents should feel free to invoke the state budget dilemma)!!
  3. Screen your calls.  This is a sticky wicket for me personally, because I don’t have a personal extension or voice mail.  I hate asking my colleagues to run interference for me and take messages, but the fact of the matter is this:  if you’re the vendor contact, and you take every single call that comes in for you, you will go stark raving mad in short order; in addition, you will never get anything else done.  If you can screen calls, do it!  If you can’t, talk to your boss and colleagues about what a good solution for your office might look like.
  4. Take calls when you can.  Vendors are human beings with a job to do, so you should treat them with the same respect you would ask for yourself.  That means actually taking their calls when you can.  If you aren’t interested in the product, see #2.  If you’re interested, but the timing isn’t right, say so, and suggest you talk again in X number of months, or next year, or next budget cycle. 
  5. Have FAQ information organized and ready.  Vendors often need to know certain things in order to quote us prices accurately.  Often this information includes population served, number of cardholders, city/county population, and/or number of public computers available.  Write these things on an index card and keep it handy.  That way you can make the most of your phone time by being prepared for questions.
  6. Be able to articulate specifically what your users want and need.  By the same token, there are certain things you’re looking for in a product.  Make a list of these and ask about them right away.  If the vendor cannot fulfill your needs, it’s better to find out right up front.  Then you can go straight to #2 for the polite “no.”
  7. Don’t take bad behavior personally.  Selling something for a living–and some folks are solely on commission–can really stink, especially during these economic times.  If you’re working with a vendor who dances clumsily, please try to remember that they did not get up this morning hell-bent on ruining your workday.  A vendor’s job is to sell you things.  That’s just how it is.  If their behavior bugs you, please go find a colleague to vent to, or watch a funny kittens video on YouTube, or make an ice cream run, or whatever will get you through the day.  Just don’t take it personally, because, quite frankly, it isn’t.

Dance Steps for Vendors

Dear library product vendors:  Your job is a tough one, and I know I wouldn’t do it very well, so I appreciate the hard work you do.  Here are some suggestions I would like to make that could improve our relationship all around, and make for better business transactions.

  1. Please don’t send me presents.  I don’t know you very well, and getting a gift from somebody I don’t know is a little awkward and doesn’t feel ethically correct.  On top of that, giving me a present is not likely to influence my purchase decisions, especially if your product isn’t what my patrons need right now.  I’d much rather the money you spent on presents went toward improving your product, and making sure all your employees get a fair wage.
  2. Please don’t call me 3 times in 30 minutes.  If I can’t take your call, it’s because I have another committment.  Working in a large public library is delightfully insane, and it doesn’t make for predictable phone availability.  Repeat calls in a short period of time doesn’t make me enthusiastic about your persistence or your product.  I know you’ve been burned on this one before, but I’d appreciate it if you could trust me.
  3. Please learn to spell and pronounce my name.  It’s a little tricky, I’ll grant you, but it’s not like they call me Chasmodeus Czyrwilmeninczky.  I accept that I’ll probably have to explain it once or twice.  Once we hit three times, however, it just seems like you’re not listening.
  4. Please don’t write me long, friendly e-mails full of chit-chat if we’ve just met.  If I’ve contacted you for information, I’d like just that information.  I know that the current business emphasis on making the customer feel valuable has resulted in a lot of friendly gestures designed to make us feel comfortable with you as people.  A good working relationship, however, is built over time.  If I buy your product, and we work together a lot, a level of informality will grow naturally.  Being overly folksy right out of the gate is somewhat off-putting, however. 
  5. Please answer the questions we actually have.  I know you’re really proud of your product, and you want to tell me everything about how it’s going to change my life.  But if I have a question, I’d really like the answer to just that question, and not an explanation of all the other great things.  If I ask about a feature you don’t have, don’t tell me about the other four features you DO have.  If I have questions about those features, I will ask you.
  6. Please don’t take “no” personally.  If your product isn’t right for us, or we have to cancel your product due to budget cuts, or whatever reason we’re saying “no” at this time…it’s not personal.  You didn’t do anything wrong, per se, and you should take our “no” at face value.  Calling repeatedly to find out the “real” reason why we canceled is kind of stalkerish, and doesn’t inspire a change of heart.
  7. If we ask for a trial, please don’t offer us a live demo.  This is especially applicable to vendors who are just now discovering the library market, and don’t know public libraries or their users very well.  We want to get our hands on your product and playtest it against the realities we face every day.  Live demos can be interesting, but there isn’t always time in the day for them.  On top of that, a lot of time can be wasted in a live demo trying to get you to cut to the chase.  I know you’ve worked very hard on your presentation, but there are certain things we look for that only a good playtesting will assess accurately.  If we have questions, or want a live demo, we will ask for them.  Pinky swear.

Now, all of that being said?  I work with some really cool vendors.  I’m Facebook friends with one of our reps, and she’s been insanely helpful in terms of training, answering questions, tech support, etc.  She also understands the boundaries of our professional relationship and doesn’t feel the need to comment on every conversation I have.  There’s another vendor with whom I wish we were doing business (stupid PA budget) because she’s perfected the art of knowing how often to call to see if our situation has changed, and she’s clearly done her homework on public libraries because she knows what’s important to us and what’s not.  Doing the vendor dance doesn’t have to be a hair-pulling, migraine-headache inducing experience; it can be pleasant, cvil, calm, and–dare I say it?–even fun on occasion.   It only works, though, when we all strive to dance well.

As ever, I would like to hear your take on these things, and I’m open to other perspectives.  Do you work with vendors at your library?  How’s that working out for you?  Do you have any tips for an intermediate, still slightly clumsy, alchemist?

Oh, and I wasn’t kidding about the Docs or the dancing.  Might I suggest A Life Less Lived? To see if it would be your cup of tea, here’s a representative sample:

Happy dancing, and I’ll see you next week.

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You can’t spell intern without “ni!”: Stuff I’ve learned.

August 25, 2009 at 4:28 pm (blogging, collection development, creativity, databases, humor, leadership, management, professional development, web resources)

If that subject header had you scratching your noggin, click here for elucidation.  For the rest of you, on with the story!

For the past few months, my workload rose to such a pitch that half-joking plea for an intern had become part of my regular rotation of requests.  Call it manifestation or plain old nagging, but when an opportunity appeared mid-summer, yours truly was given an intern…er, 1/2 an intern.  In Solomonic fashion, Tanya split her time here at Main between the stacks and shelving department, and helping me with tasks in Ref. Services.

Having her around has been educational.  For one thing, Tanya’s not planning to make librarianship a career, though she was intrigued that there were such things as medical libraries and librarians.  Working with her has forced me to re-examine everything I do, because I know I’m going to have to explain/justify it to a non-library person.  It’s also forced me to be even better organized, because I want to make her time here useful and educational – that means having tasks ready, and not just tasks, but a variety of tasks, so that she gets a well-rounded experience.

On top of that, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to model that one behavior I hope to someday perfect–the art of dropping everything and paying attention to her when she has a question–as well as other behaviors worth having in the bag of tricks:  patience, a sense of humor, problem-solving skills, diplomacy, flexibility and creativity.   We had a teachable moment just this morning, in which I was having difficulty exporting data from Millennium Create List, and I had to ask one of my peers for a reminder/refresher on the spot–not sure if that was more educational for her or for me!  But still, the point was made:  even the nominal leader gets stuck, and needs to ask for help.

Here are some of the things Tanya’s helped me with so far:

  • mass mailings
  • weeding (literal and digital)
  • creating digital booklists
  • creating displays
  • database evaluations [seeing how a non-library person perceived our electronic resources was insanely valuable]
  • collection development (print and digital)
  • searching for missing items
  • shadowing at the reference desk

She also wrote a very nice Eleventh Stack post describing her internship, both at Main and at the Carrick branch, where she spent the first part of her summer. If the point of internships is to educate folks on just how important library service is to the community, I’d have to say “mission accomplished” on this one. I can’t really take the credit for that, per se, but I’m glad I played a small part in helping her have a good library experience.

As for me, I was a lot more comfortable in a leadership role this time than I was last time, when I supervised the Help Desk workers. Funny what time and, hopefully, a little maturity, can do! I am still not 100% convinced it’s the direction in which I want to take my career, but I now know that I could become a good manager if I were willing to work at it. So the real question is, what would make me happy?  Although I’m pro-money, and fond of regular meals, I’m a little more concerned with other levels on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs at this point in my life.

If and when I ever get a handle on that, I’ll let you know. And if that last paragraph shocked you, you should hear about my backup plan just in case this whole librarian thing doesn’t work out. No, not the goat farm – that’s the retirement plan.

I have a few writing topics I’m going to defer until September, as they revolve around specific timed events.  There are a few things saved in my newsreader that I want to warble about, but for now, let’s leave it open-ended.  Your alchemist also takes requests, so if there’s something you’d like me to write about, do leave a comment.

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Mistakes, mentoring, management, magic

August 21, 2009 at 4:17 pm (humor, leadership, management, personal, philosophizing, professional development)

Random thoughts on my mind at the end of a busy week:

Mistakes

Everybody makes them.  I fervently wish I were the person my cats think I am, and if I had a dollar for every time I’ve goofed, I’d have plenty of startup capital for my goat farm.  No, making mistakes is not the issue, really – it’s bouncing back from them successfully that counts.

My SOP for mistake-making is to take corrective action and/or come up with a solution ASAP, and then ‘fess up to all the stakeholders.  Finding a solution is key, I think, even more so than the ‘fessing up:  bosses love solutions.  If you must bring them a problem, it looks a lot more palatable if you’ve got it bundled with potential solutions.

Of course, correcting the patterns that led to your mistake in the first place is always a good idea–that way, when you inevitably err again, you will at least be making different mistakes.

Mentoring 

I’m of the opinion that everybody is your mentor, whether or not you (or they) realize it.  The flip side of that, of course, is that you are always teaching somebody something, either by word or example.  What are you teaching people today?  What would you like to be teaching them?

I have more thoughts on formal mentoring, but I want to save them until next week, so I can time them with an upcoming Eleventh Stack post.

Management

This is related to the first two ruminations in that I’ve noticed something:  more and more of my job has been revolving around the soft skills, rather than what most people think of as library work (either old-school OR new-jack).  I’m still working the desk, ordering books, and exploring emerging technologies, but slowly the bulk of my projects has involved meetings, negotiations, and–for lack of a better term–organizational politics. 

The learning curve on those skills seems to be steeper, and comes with a higher price – if you bobble a blog post or miscatalog a book, it’s “no harm, no foul.”  If you don’t listen, or don’t communicate well, or otherwise mismanage people skills, the consequences can be a little more serious…unless you’ve also learned to apologize well.  Given that you will make mistakes, it’s probably also helpful if you’ve mastered “Don’t Take It Personally 101″ and “Check Your Pride 202.”

Magic

Back in the day, men–and it usually was men–who fancied themselves magicians would write up all their know-how into big black books they called grimoires.  These books were filled with symbols and formulae, as well as a lot of nonsense, hooey, folderol and misdirection, and knowing their contents–whether or not they actually worked, which they frequently didn’t–was the gold standard for being a good magician.

Nowadays we have science to explain things we used to call magic, and other terms to explain things we still don’t understand, but don’t feel comfortable calling magic.  I would argue that there is still magic in the world, and that a great deal of it resides in libraries.  In our mad rush to discover the magic in library books, however, we often overlook the potential for magic in library people.  In that respect, we are mostly Mickeys, clueless, but utterly adorable in our oversized robes and wizard hats, struggling to tame the buckets and brooms we have unwittingly brought to life with our careless words, and thoughtless actions.

Too cynical?  Maybe.  But them’s my thinks!  Next week I want to talk about the experience of having an intern.  I’ve never worked with anyone in that capacity before, and it has been very educational.  After that, we’ll see if I can’t get back to something a little more “librarian-y.”

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Stay Classy, Girlfiend: Keeping Your Cool in a Budget Crisis

August 13, 2009 at 4:49 pm (ethics, humor, leadership, management, personal, philosophizing, professional development)

Each day, some time each hour, brings change.
Dune, Frank Herbert

One of my favorite fallback chestnuts is Oscar Wilde’s oft-repeated epithet that the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.  I tried to keep this in mind when I found out that my library’s funding crisis had made headlines at Library Journal.  On the one hand, it’s good to have our problems taken seriously by a national professional publication.  On the other hand, given what an amazing library we have, and how many amazing people are doing (wait for it) amazing things within its current limitations, it’s kind of a downer not to get press for all of those wonderful things instead.

A stellar example:  one of my peers, a man far too modest to ever speak up and tell anyone about this, is ranked SECOND in the ENTIRE STATE for number of questions answered on AskHere PA, the Pennsylvania virtual reference service.  Yes, that’s the same service some PA legislators want to cut from the budget entirely; my peer has answered thousands of questions for Pennsylvanians in need, and he’ll be number one any day now…if I don’t catch him first.  Nothing spurs excellence like a little friendly competition.   :)

But I digress.  For good or ill, the news is what it is.  And since so many other libraries are in the same boat (notably Omaha Public )I thought it might be useful to spend some time talking about coping strategies.  Everyone handles stress and uncertainty in their own way, but I think the potential wisdom library workers can glean from that venerable sage, Kenny Rogers, should not be underestimated:

Step 1:  Know When to Hold ‘Em

Your snarky comments, that is.  There’s a time and a place for snark, but when the pressure’s on and the future’s uncertain, do you really want to be the spark that touches off your problem patron’s bad behaviors, or your fragile co-worker’s last nerve?  Take an extra five seconds before you open your mouth, and apply the following criteria to everything you say:

  • Is it true?
  • Is it necessary?
  • Is it kind?
  • Is it the right moment?

These questions, otherwise known as the Four Gates of Speech, have been attributed to both Buddhist and Sufi thought; however, many religious and ethical platforms contain some variant of right speech, so hopefully asking yourself these questions isn’t too far out of your comfort zone.  And remember:  the life you save may be your own!

Part 2:  Know When to Fold ’Em

This time we’re talking about your responsibilities.  During times of struggle, your workload can start to seem overwhelming.  Now is the time to talk to your colleagues, your boss, and your peers in other departments (or possibly other libraries) about how you can collaborate on projects and work together for the common good.  Start looking at ways you can work WITH and FOR each other to get things done.  One of the biggest pitfalls in a budget crisis is that people have a tendency to start freaking out over the unknown, and worrying about what’s going to happen to them personally.  If you put the focus back on the patrons, on making the best of a bad situation, on getting the job done, you minimize the individual freakouts.  Yes, socialism CAN be a good thing, if it’s in the interest of keeping your patrons happy, and your blood pressure down!

Part III:  Know When to Walk Away

From triggers, I mean.  Now more than ever you should be conscious of your weak points and be willing to ask for help.  If Mister So-And-So drives you absolutely nutty at the desk, DON’T try to help him - grab a peer.  If a co-worker just can’t let up with the doom and gloom, stop eating lunch when s/he does, or change your coffee run time so you don’t see each other as often.  You are probably never going to be able to change other people’s behaviors, so, for your own sanity, make the changes that will safeguard your weaknesses until you can transform them into strengths.

Part IV:  Know When to Run

For your boss, silly.  Maybe you’ve done everything right so far and you’re still having problems coping.  This is where your boss comes in.  Don’t be concerned about bothering her/him – they pay her/him the “big library bucks” to LEAD and MANAGE  you.  Listening to your concerns is part of that deal.  Stop by–or make an appointment, if s/he’s a touch more formal–and have a chat.  Express concerns.  Ask questions.  Blow off steam.  Have the humility to know when you need the wisdom and discernment a supervisor can provide.

If you absolutely positively feel you can’t talk to your boss?  Well, that’s a whole separate blog post – but don’t despair!  Surely there is somebody in your organization whom you trust?  Somebody who’s a model of leadership and kindness and humor and patience and win?  Make time to have coffee with that person.  Take a walk around the building.  Go out to lunch, get away from the office for a little while.  Speak, from your heart, about what’s going on with you and what you need to keep going.  And, it goes without saying, be willing to reciprocate for your peers if they should see you as a beacon of helpfulness.

One of my very first library bosses  taught me the most valuable coping philosophy I’ve ever heard.  “It’ll be fine,” she reassured me.  “And if it’s not fine, it’ll be over.”   The first time she said this, your alchemist–with her penchant for broody humor–laughed outright, because it’s true!  The only constant in life is change, and right now in library world that tendency’s been ramped up to the max.  When so much is out of your personal control, doesn’t it make sense to identify those things that are, and work ‘em to the best of your ability?

Oh, and that subject header?  Definitely not a typo.  Just today at the refdesk I fired off an emergency e-mail to a colleague, asking to be relieved 10 minutes early so I could get out of the hotseat.  The reference room was full, the waiting line for computers was four-deep, and terminals kept dropping out of the CybraryN queue.  Some poorly-behaved person walked off with a mouse, effectively taking a computer out of play while we waited for a replacement.  Other patrons chose to say unkind things, and I nearly burst into tears…but just being able to ask for help, and knowing there were people around to help me, helped me stay classy and get over the rough spot.

How are you coping with your library’s budget crisis?  Are you an optimist, a pessimist, a realist?  What’s helping you soldier on through?  I know you lot generally err on the side of comment-shy, but I hope just this once you’ll make an exception.

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