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!

Last week, for science, I gave up using the internet, and most other media, for a whole week.  You can tell by the speed of my re-entry I didn’t miss it much (and that being on vacation for a week means tons of makeup work to do). 

I do plan a more thorough critical analysis of the experience at some point.  However, to tide you over until I can piece my thoughts and notes together, here’s some footage of a gorgeous laptop that has the potential to bring sexy back to library science:

Make sure your speakers are on, too.  Because nothing says “Hellooo gorgeous new technology!” like a little smooth jazz.  Your normally sanguine alchemist just developed a holiday wish…

The rolltop is the brainchild of Orkin Design; click around a bit and check out some of the other cool things they’ve come up with!

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.

“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.

Kudos are in order for everybody involved in the Keep the Light On Levy, one of 30 successful library levies in Ohio this election season.  Mahoning County residents obviously have their priorities straight when it comes to library funding, but the phenomenal effort exerted by the library’s supporters was, I’m sure, a key role in the levy’s passing.

What made this campaign so delightfully awesome? Let us count the ways:

1. The perfect slogan.  Keep the light on.  Could it be any clearer?  Mood, imperative.  Focuses on the positive.  Uses one of humankind’s most primal metaphors, light, implying warmth, growth, safety, knowledge.  Sheer genius.
2. Gorgeous web design.  Love the simple primary colors.  Love the inclusive photo on the front page that reflects the diverse makeup of the Mahoning Valley.   Love the simple box arrangement that makes the page easy to navigate.  Ditto on the tabs at the top.
3. Patrons are front and center.  Two of the first things you see there are “The People’s Blog” and “Real Quotes From Real Library Users.”  The scrolling list of library supporters is a nice touch, too, letting people see how much they’re appreciated.  The only thing that could make this even better is moving the library usage calculator up higher, so people could see and use it more easily.
4. Transparency.  As you navigate the site, you will see funding issues explained in a clear, concise fashion.  The FAQ, in particular, explains where library funding comes from at the state and local levels, what cost-saving measures the library has already tried, and how much money fundraisers and other revenue-generators actually raise.  Most importantly, the FAQ details what cost-saving measures the library has already taken, and what consequences would occur if the levy doesn’t pass.  Here, in my opinion, is the money quote:

Levy FAQ 6. What effect has the loss of 31% of State funding had on Your Library?  Thirty members of Your Library staff had to be laid off. Funding for books and other materials dropped dramatically. The entire staff, including the Director, took wage cuts. The library was forced to reduce hours at all locations.

Emphasis mine. Everybody. Took. Wage. Cuts.  Wow.  That is definitely one way to tell people that you are dead serious.  Would you take a wage cut for your library?  But I digress:

5. Good use of social media/web technologies.  Content on YouTube.  Strong Facebook and Twitter presences.   Including PayPal as a donation option.  An e-newsletter.  Clearly this group “gets it” when it comes to reaching out to tech-savvy patrons and including them in their advocacy efforts.

[Aside:  Yes, I'm biased.  You can take the girl out of Youngstown, but you can't take the Youngstown out of the girl.  And honestly, why would you want to?]

What insanely cool, awesome thing are you doing to rock the advocacy boat at your library?  Leave a comment telling me about your creative/unusual “save the library” endeavors, and you’ll be eligible to win a copy of Keri Smith’s This Is Not A Book – I just happen to have stumbled into an extra copy, and I can’t think of a better way to reward hands-on advocacy than with a hands-on, not-a-book destructo-journal.

Leave a comment by 5 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 6, 2009 to be in the running. And thanks in advance for everything you do to keep the light on in your libraries!

You know what’s almost as important as keeping the light on? Lightening up. Methinks my next post is going to be both fun and silly, because, quite frankly, there’s been a dearth of that around here lately. Stay tuned.

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.

Still waiting to hear from the state what’s going on with POWER library.  My sources tell me it might be a while.  And, as that veritable sage Tom Petty once put it, “The waiting is the hardest part.”

The plus side to waiting, though, is that you have plenty of time to scheme plan and agitate collaborate.  It’s always good to have a plan, and it’s about time you heard a little more about some of the fine people I work with, and what we do.

I will do my best to make these topics as “sexy” as possible, but sometimes there’s just no way to dress up a skunk:  librarians care, and very deeply, about electronic resources.  Patrons tend not to know, or care, how the magicians do their tricks…until the money runs out, and resources are cut.  I provide this information anyway, in the hopes that it will be useful to someone.

Allegheny County Databases 101

Library users in Allegheny County have access to three levels of database service, provided in different ways.  Let’s take it from the top down.

Pennsylvania POWER Library

This is the suite of electronic resources that is available to all libraries in the commonwealth. It is currently paid for by the state of Pennsylvania, but based on the 57.1% reduction to the line item that includes these resources, its future is uncertain.  These databases are selected and purchased by either the state library or a statewide committee of library staff, I believe–someone please correct me if this is not so.  It’s a tad shrouded in mystery, and I’d like a little more transparency on the process, myself…

EREC Databases

The Electronic Resources Evaluation Committee is a committee of the Allegheny County Library Association.  It is composed of librarians who represent different geographical regions within the county, as well as staff from the Electronic Information Network, a/k/a EIN, which currently handles the statistics reporting and tech troubleshooting for countywide electronic resources.   EREC purchases are funded from a variety of sources, which makes deciding issues about their administration (including tech support and stats-keeping) a touch complicated.

All databases selected by EREC are available to all library cardholders in Allegheny County, regardless of which library issued their card.  The committee meets once a month to decide which products to keep or cancel, discuss other electronic products on the market, set up trials, discuss the outcome of trials, and generally keep tabs on the state of library electronica. 

Individual Library Subscriptions

Each of the county’s libraries–and there are quite a lot that are not part of the CLP system–has the option to purchase individual database subscriptions with their collection development budgets.

CLP has its own Database Selection Committee (DBSC), which is made up of representatives from both Main Library and the branches, who make decisions about what, if any resources, we want to buy for CLP cardholders on top of what the county and state provide. Individual subscriptions have pros and cons, which we will examine more in detail when we discuss the patrons’-eye view of all this.

Everybody with me so far?  All righty then:

Chain Lightning

When all is working well, this three-tiered system actually functions more like an equilateral triangle, with all limbs in perfect balance, resting on a solid base.  If Bob Ross were here to paint it, he might call it a happy little triangle.

In our current situation, however, with steep budget cuts to POWER that could very well eliminate the majority of the subscription databases, a chain reaction has begun.

The current posse of fine folks on EREC are currently creating a survey, meant to be distributed to staff countywide, so they can provide feedback on what resources are key for them and their patrons.  A patron-friendly version of the survey, which will appear on the county database page, will glean info from library users.

The surveys will, hopefully, tell EREC a few important things it needs to know, namely:

1. Which databases are most useful to library staff.
2. Which databases are most useful to patrons.
3. Which POWER library databases EREC should try to purchase if the state drops their subscriptions.
4. Which EREC databases we should cancel to make room to pick up POWER subscriptions.

Do you see the bind that crops up there with points 3 and 4?  Given that the public library subsidy was cut 20% statewide, chances are good that EREC will have LESS money to spend in 2010, it will boil down to canceling some resources in order to save others.

Good times.

Whatever choices EREC makes will trickle down to individual libraries.  If, for example, a particular database is canceled countywide, each individual library may choose to research pricing, and make a purchase for its own cardholders.  Given that many vendors do their pricing by population served and/or number of cardholders, electronic resources are less expensive the smaller your service area gets.

The only problem there is that it creates little “service ghettos,” in which the quality of electronic access varies widely depending on how much collection money a library has to dedicate to databases.  This is what we library professionals like to call “uncool.”

The Patron Perspective

Patrons don’t care who buys what, what standards they use, or where the monies come from.  They simply want what they want.  This is human nature, and I am at peace with it.

Besides, look at it from the average patron’s point of view.  To her/him, does it matter who bought what for whom?  Nope.  S/he just wants the information, not an object lesson on service models.  And when s/he asks why s/he has access to some databases and not others, there’s currently no way to answer this question without boring the living daylights out of the poor patron.

If I ruled the world…

As you may have gathered, I think about these issues quite a bit.  I’ve been immersed in this stuff for about two years now, so I’ve certainly had plenty of time to consider it.  I’ve served on the DBSC and EREC, and then suddenly found myself as chair of both. 

From a certain perspective, this makes the job a lot easier:  when I get pricing for things, I can measure twice and cut once.  However, wearing multiple hats also forces me to think about everything twice as long and twice as hard.  What’s really in everybody’s best interests?  What is the solution that will be best for my library and its patrons, as well as other libraries and their patrons?

I’ve come to the conclusion that, in most cases, it really makes more sense to buy databases on a countywide level, especially databases that give access to full-text journal articles.  It seems ridiculous to have an army of little full-text fiefdoms – better to make the purchase on a wider scale, making as many journal articles available to as many people as possible.

In a way, this is not unlike the argument for opening up the gifted curriculum to students of all levels.  Trips to the ballet, and chess lessons, and visits to art museums, are just the ticket for the high-achievers.  But perhaps, if the “regular” or “under-performing” kids had those opportunities as well, it would cause them to flourish and grow?  While every library should be free to spend its individual collection budgets as it sees fit, I can think of very few situations where a boutique database is needed.

Obviously, there are exceptions, and sometimes pricing on a countywide scale is prohibitive.  Why shouldn’t a library pick up that would please its patrons if countywide pricing is not feasible?  Still, if I ruled the world, I’d do a complete overhaul of the current three-tier system.  Here are some of the changes I’d make:

1. There would be a countywide database coordinator whose sole responsibility would be the care and feeding of the EREC databases.
2. That person’s duties would include, but not be limited to:  researching products, designing and producing promotional brochures, scheduling–and, if necessary, teaching–training sessions, creating Camtasia and/or video tutorials for staff and patrons, maintaining an electronic resources blog to keep everybody in the county abreast of electronica, serving as liaison to EREC and whomever selects state resources, as well as being a consultant for libraries on an individual basis.
3. And speaking of the state, a huge part of this person’s job would be to let some sunshine in on just exactly how those POWER databases are selected.  They’d also be responsible for promtion of and training on state-provided resources.
4. If, after closer examination it was felt that was the best solution, this person would also be responsible for database tech support and statistics gathering for all the county libraries.
5. Given the scope of 2 & 3, this person should be compensated A Very Lot.   Perhaps not as much as a director, but definitely more than the average librarian. 
6. A subscription to The Charleston Advisor should be part of this person’s benefits package. Either that or the agency that employed him/her should pick up the tab.

You can see why I won’t be put in charge of anything anytime soon.  I can just hear you now:  “Where, foolish dreamer, is there money for that in this current economic climate?”

My only response on that point is, you get what you pay for.

If you have made it to the end of this post with your eyeballs still firmly lodged in their sockets, I salute your fortitude.  Blathering about all this has been helpful for me because I have been asked to give not one, but two, presentations about databases within the next few months, and spilling it out in a blog entry has been insanely helpful in terms of brainstorming what I want to say.

Comments / questions / clarification?  Let me know.

Today is my seven-year service anniversary with the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.  I celebrated by working on 3rd-quarter database statistics and having a chocolate-peanut-butter brownie with my afternoon coffee.

Because I try to live in the moment, I don’t take too many backward glances.  I’m not at all nostalgic, really, and I don’t have a big box full of momentos from my past (funeral memorial cards excepted, and I have more of those than anyone my age really should).   All that being said, it amazes me how fast seven years can go by, and how much experience and knowledge now separates me from the woman I was the day I started here.

Not that we’re so very different, she and I, but it is like trying to speak of caterpillars after one has become a butterfly:  that was then, and this is now, and if I could go back in time and give her advice, the only thing I’d really say is, “don’t waste your time on men who like red-heads when there are plenty of gentlemen who prefer blondes.”  That is, and is not, a metaphor.

I suppose the biggest change in my professional life over the past seven years is that I’ve become a lot more philosophical, more inclined to look at the big picture than examine the nuts and bolts of daily service.  I’m concerned with the soft skills, with intangibles, with service to peers as well as patrons.  I’d rather be happy than right, and I’d rather err on the sides of kindness and giving people the benefit of the doubt. 

In addition, I sincerely believe that everybody gets up in the morning with the best of intentions, and that most of the time, when people hurt each other, it’s out of carelessness rather than malice (yes, even the red-hair fanciers fall into this category).  Also, nobody sets out to ruin librarianship in general, or their library in particular.  The glass isn’t empty or full:  it’s already broken, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better you’ll be able to handle the slings and arrows of everyday outrageous fortune.

My relationship to technology has changed as well.  The more I learn about it, the more I gain a healthy respect for its strengths and an equally healthy skepticism of its limitations.  It’s also directly contributed to my reading more, since the last thing I want to do after working with technology all day is go home and spend even more time online.  Unless, of course, there are crops to be harvested in Farmville.

The really important lessons I’ve learned, however, cannot be expressed in words.  I strive to demonstrate them through my actions, often falling short because I’m just as human as everyone else, but striving all the same.  Given, however, that you can’t see me right now, I’ll try to toss you a few nuggets.

Leadership

First you show up.  Then you see what happens.  Listen more than you speak.  Speak from your heart when you do speak.  Be present in the moment.  Treat everyone as if they were secretly hurting, because chances are good that they are.

Morale

Make sure you have a pleasant non-work life full of steampunk supervillainy, a posse of awesome girlfiends, numerous hobbies, and multiple fuzzy critters to care for.  That way, you can show up to work prepared to give your best, and be of comfort to those around you.  And if you are feeling low, and need a boost?  Don’t be ashamed to ask for it.  Because we all need one, every now and then. 

Positive Thinking

Positive thinking does NOT mean faking cheerfulness or denying any unpleasant emotions.  It does, however, mean not letting your negative emotions run the show.  It also means stepping back and looking at the bigger picture:  all things must pass, and no matter what you are feeling right now, good or bad, high or low, I promise you:  you will not always feel that way.  The sun will probably come up tomorrow, kittens will be cute, and life will be a shower of amazing blessings that you will probably take for granted unless you’re lucky enough to have somebody by your side reminding you every moment.  Occasionally with words.

You know what else can help you stay positive?  Having a theme song.  Everybody should have one.  Pick a theme song–the cheesier the better–and listen to it regularly.  Don’t tell anybody what your theme song is, though:  this is really important, because when times get tough, you can just think of your theme song and smile one of those enigmatic little smiles to yourself.  Then everybody will admire you for being brave and noble in the face of obstacles, when really you’re just taking advantage of the naturally healing power of cheesy music.

Sugar

Meetings are just better with donuts.  Period.  There is no meeting on earth that cannot be improved with sugar and/or carbs.  Because you want to create self-sufficient employees, however, you should empower them to get their own darned coffee.

In all seriousness, throwing a meeting is an art.  Study it.  Learn it.  Pay attention to people who do it well.  Pay attention to people who do it poorly.  Delegate note-taking whenever possible so you don’t always get stuck doing it.  Have an agenda.  Keep it short.  Don’t try to do too much in one meeting.  And if you think I’m joking about those donuts, you haven’t been a librarian long enough to understand the urgency of this matter.

As one of my favorite sci-fi anti-heroes likes to say, “I can talk or I can work, but I can’t do both.”  I have a lot of work to do, so I’m probably going to take a long pause between entries.  By then, we’ll know what’s going on with POWER Library, hopefully, and we can talk about databases a little bit.

Here’s to the next 7 years, whatever they might bring,

LAV

your library alchemist

The state of Pennsylvania finally has, after a long, annoying 101 days, passed a budget.  And while it could have been worse for libraries, certainly, it’s not going to be fun.  The latest numbers from PaLA reflect what appear to be heavy cuts to electronic resources, although it will be a few weeks before anybody knows what any of this means.

All I can tell you for certain is that if those cuts mean losses to the Pennsylvania POWER library, our statewide suite of databases? My job, and the jobs of everyone on both database committees on which I serve, just got even more interesting.

What absolutely kills me is that large libraries like my own will still be able to deliver some services via print journal collections. It’s the school libraries, and the small public libraries, in PA that are going to feel this the most. And my greatest fear is that these cuts are rooted in the pathetic fallacy (pun intended) that “everything’s on the internet now.” Not full-text journal articles from reputable sources. At least, not as many as there should be.

Ditto on the uncertain future of AskHere PA. I only staff the service a few hours a week, but every time I’m on, it’s crazy-busy, with many of the questions coming from students. The need for information literacy training, which we can often give on the fly during VR sessions, is great – for all their comfort with technology, young searchers do not intuitively know what’s best, or how to find the goodies that a simple Google search won’t reveal.

I understand and respect that there are critical needs that the budget must also cover. People must be fed, housed, clothed, employed, treated for various addictions, supported in concrete ways. However, it is not enough to give the people of the state the bare necessities of life. A responsible state government must also give them something to live for.

So, yes, I’m happy we have a budget. And I’m glad it wasn’t worse. But I fear for Pennsylvania, which is cutting the resources it needs to create the informed populace that will carry the state forward.

On the bright side, my workday thus far has been filled with reference goodness. The bulk of my efforts this morning were dedicated to helping a patron find resources on the history of the Bible and biblical translations. Fun stuff! I have a feeling it will only get busier from here on in, so I’ll stop for now. Next week, however, I want to talk about some things that have been on my mind, for which I finally have a relevant entry point: morale, leadership, and what “staying positive” really means (as opposed to what its detractors think it means).

Whenever there’s an elephant in the room, I like to walk right up to it, pat it on the head, ask it how it’s feeling and offer it a peanut.  So, here goes:

Yesterday was a very sad day for the staff and patrons of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.  There was a veritable barrage of media coverage, including official responses and an ongoing community discussion. Library Journal also offers a nice summary here.  Staff were informed of these decisions yesterday at a meeting that immediately preceeded the public press conference.

When I took up library blogging, I never in a million years dreamed that I would be in this position.  Because I am not an official spokesperson for my library, I cannot really comment.  However, as a professional, I do have an obligation to say something.  It would be both irresponsible and psychologically damaging to merrily blog on as if these things weren’t happening.  It’s an interesting conundrum.

Here are my thoughts.

I work with some of the finest people in the world, serving some of the finest people in the world.  The long period of uncertainty preceeding the library cuts, during which I had to maintain a diplomatic silence, taught me a lot about the strengths and weaknesses of my own character, and the need to band together with one’s peers for both strength and solace.  I would rather that this cup had not passed our way, but since it did, well…I made sure I didn’t take a single day for granted.  Not one.  Uncertainty about the future forces you to live in the now.

In a way, it’s a bit of a relief to have it all out in the open and be able to acknowledge it.  The period of uncertainty is not quite over, but at least everything’s been spelled out, and we all know what the stakes are.  And you know something else?

I’m at peace with that.

You see, I’ve been around the block a few times.  Not as many times, as my more experienced peers might point out, as others.  But I have faced periods of great change and challenge in my life before.  At first, these periods seemed like “the end of the world.”  However, after you go through a few radical life changes, you start to realize that the end of “the world” is really simply the end of life as you knew it.  And that there can be blessings hidden in those endings, which will carry you forward to places you could never have imagined.

Example:  once upon a time I was studying for my PhD exams in literature.  One day I “woke up” and realized that, while I was certainly gifted in my studies, they weren’t making me happy.  After an appropriate period of panic, I took a sabbatical from my program, got a mundane job, and spent a good two years trying to figure out what the heck I wanted from life.

It was the scariest thing I’d ever done, and I had no way of knowing what would happen.  My family and friends thought I’d lost my mind.  But having the courage to jump off that particular cliff is what brought me, eventually, to library science, as well as to all the people and circumstances I would need to thrive and grow.   And here I am.

I’ll spare you further anecdotes from my colorful life, but you get the point:  I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain, as it were.  So, don’t cry for me, Marge and Tina.  Because today, I have a job I love.  And while anybody with an ounce of common sense around here has been working on her/his Plan B for quite some time, I am going to make the most of every minute I have here, and hope for the best.  If things should not come to pass as I would like,  I’ll burn that bridge when I get there.

Ergo, having acknowledged the big white elephant in the room, I’m going to go back to the business of giving my patrons the very best I have.  Because that is simply how I roll. 

As ever, questions and comments are welcome.  And when we next speak, we’ll get back to what passes for normal at Alchemy.