In praise of the blog
A couple-three things happened last week that (combined with another thing that happened some time past) have left me feeling vindicated on some of my less-happy opinions. I’m not exactly schadenfreudish about it; more a sense that finally, maybe, there will be some forward motion. That can only be good.
And I can say in all honesty that at least one such thing wouldn’t have happened at all if I hadn’t possessed a quasi-professional public soapbox firewalled off from my job strictly enough that third parties can’t easily get me in trouble for it. Because, the third parties in question? Have a history of getting people they find bothersome in trouble at work. In my case, they’re coming to the table instead, presumably having evaluated the available opportunity to dunk me in the soup and decided it either wasn’t possible or wasn’t worth the effort.
(Not that I trust them further than I could conveniently throw them, mind you. I’m optimistic, not stupid. Due self-protection measures are being taken.)
Over the last couple years I’ve learned that I can do professional writing, though it takes a hell of a lot out of me and I don’t think I will ever find it easy. Speaking is worlds easier, and whole universes more fun. (Combine Walt Crawford, to whom good writing comes as naturally as breathing, and me and you’d have one frighteningly effective public-figure librarian.)
I’ve also learned, though, that much professional publishing is limited-impact, especially when the goal is to motivate action (as my implicit professional-writing goal usually is). The thing I wrote for Library Journal wasn’t wholly bad, but it sank like a stone, to judge by the lack of reaction. My essay for Information Tomorrow—I was satisfied with it. It was solid if uninspired writing (and “solid but uninspired” is about the best I can do, folks). And when I wrote it, it broke some ground. When it was finally published, though… not so much with the groundbreaking. Kind of unfair.
If I’d waited for Roach Motel to be formally published, I suspect the same thing would have happened. I am not the only person saying some of what’s in Roach Motel (though I do, perhaps over-enthusiastically, think some of its observations and analysis are original). If I’d waited, why would anyone bother to read me? Or believe that I’d come up with this stuff off my own bat rather than reading it elsewhere?
As it is—I’ve laid my claim, with Roach Motel and with the NISO/PALINET talk, and people are listening, and wheels are slowly starting to turn.
There’s a taxonomy in all this, somewhere. (I am such a flippin’ librarian sometimes.) The blog is for open dissent and matters that won’t wait for my agonizingly slow formal-composition process. Speaking is for education and out-on-a-limb assertions. Professional writing is for persuasion, and open access to professional writing is for establishing primacy and expanding reach.
Perhaps it’s a sign of a hopelessly contrary nature that I need that open-dissent safe-space. Can’t imagine doing without it. Moreover, I’m just contrary enough to think that the blog’s helped my chosen profession as much as or more than anything else I’ve written for it. I’m satisfied with that.