The library world needs more Rochelles, I rather think. I think this because the ones we’ve got are such outstanding people. Must be some impressive kabbalah in the name.
(No, I won’t be changing my name, thanks all the same. I’m rather fond of mine, having found its distinctiveness a distinct asset.)
Anyway, Rochelle Mazar just hit the nail on the head about blogging and jobs:
My new struggle with this blog is to remain as honest as ever, as optimistic as ever, and to speak with a voice that stands a step away from my job. Not that my job won’t affect what I think or what I say, but I want my voice to remain purely mine, and with an audience that is not only external and not only internal. This may be more of a struggle about retaining a sense of independence than one of toeing the party line.
Read the whole thing, do; it’s a keeper.
When I interviewed at Ruritania, they were much exercised that I not take everyday workplace-internal wrangling public (or, at least, that’s what I heard from what they said to me). I tread that line, sometimes, though on the rare occasion I’ve something genuinely cutting to say, I make sure I’m saying it about somebody higher up the line, because I don’t believe in anything that could remotely look like bullying.
And for the most part, it’s easier, nicer, and just plain more fun to blog the good stuff. (I’m still touched by finding my name on the staff list. Wow, feeling included before I even get there!)
There’s a difference, too, between commenting negatively on a phenomenon that truly is exclusively workplace-internal (which is a bad idea, full stop), and commenting negatively on a widespread phenomenon that one’s workplace only happens to exhibit. I happen to think the latter is fair game, though it’s not cricket to hold up one’s employer to specific scorn. I’ve had employers disagree with me on that, though, even after they’ve said aloud that they wouldn’t tread on my independence. That disagreement, to me, is a key part of the struggle Rochelle is talking about.
I don’t like the yardstick “don’t write what you’re unwilling to lose your job over,” because that puts me at the mercy of my hierarchical superiors’ whims, and their whims haven’t always made sense in the past. Moreover, my superiors have a certain amount of responsibility to engage with my ideas and avoid messenger-slayage, too. That said, though, I did more or less lose my job over the abovementioned wrangle, because it spurred my decision to leave. Expressing things I care a lot about—whether they affect my specific workplace or no—is just that important to me, apparently. I don’t see that changing.
Thing is, though, I don’t like the idea that my coworkers would feel afraid of CavLec, either. They shouldn’t. It’s not here to torment them. It’s not a vehicle for passive aggression. (If I’ve got a problem, it’s my bloody responsibility to bring it up and get it solved; silent frustration helps nobody. If I learned nothing else in my topsy-turvy years, I learned that. I also learned that most people are pretty reasonable if approached reasonably—and the ones who aren’t, you run from very very fast.) For the most part, CavLec’s not even about the job, so why need they worry?
I’m with Rochelle on not wanting to titillate people looking for someone to “dish about the dark corners.” Bah. We do good work, we librarians, and I’ve never met a librarian blogger who didn’t respect that. We get sharp about some practices, even some people, but we damn well love our profession.
All this is tricky. I’ll lay substantial odds that Rochelle will find a good balance, though, and I hope I will too.
