Yesterday the newest issue of School Library Journal arrived in my mailbox, and I felt a strong surge of an emotion I thought I’d kind of outgrown: jealousy.
Everywhere you look in the children’s literature world, you see the name of Elizabeth Bird and her blog, “A Fuse #8 Production.” I’d decided that I hated her a long time ago simply based upon how often I see her name, but yesterday the (admittedly baseless) hatred turned to jealousy when I saw the cover photo of children’s literature bloggers, with Elizabeth Bird front and center. Not only is the woman a big deal in my work world, she’s also cute, young, pretty, and well-dressed. And she looks like someone I’d probably want to have as a friend. Bah humbug.
Like many of us, I had lots of visions of grandeur growing up and going through college and graduate school; I was sure that I was wicked special and that I’d make a splash somewhere, sometime. But, let’s face it, fame and fortune are far away from the little town in which I work. No disrespect intended towards the town, but it’s small potatoes compared to New York City and the New York Public Library, which is where Ms. Bird works. Logically I know I’m making an impact where I am, but I’m not too likely to meet Important Children’s Authors and Illustrators in my rural library. Nor will I be invited to serve on the Newbery Award Committee, or write articles for the Horn Book magazine. (I barely survived six months of writing entry-level reviews for the Horn Book Guide – what a slog that was.) I imagine that Elizabeth Bird probably bumps into famous authors and illustrators just buying her morning coffee before work. There’s no place to buy coffee in the town in which I work – no downtown, really, other than the library and the schools and the churches – and no money to buy that coffee, anyway.
I’d also love to know how the object of my friendly jealousy manages to find the time to write intelligent blog posts every day, and read lots and lots of current children’s books, while working as a children’s librarian. Surely she must have a staff at her disposal? Surely she’s mostly responsible for the big picture stuff, not all the nitty gritty details of storytimes and patron service? Because I’m a pretty energetic person, and I come home at the end of a work day drained and with little creativity left to write a blog post. Not to mention that I rarely feel like looking at a computer screen in the evenings after having spent an entire day working in front of a computer.
Or maybe she’s able to write her blog posts at work? Could it be that she even gets to read children’s books at work? That would be a dream come true for me. Though I truly love what I do at my job, I do feel like I’m becoming further and further removed from the analytical and theoretical side of children’s books that I so loved in graduate school. In recent days I’ve spent more time applying copious amounts of hand sanitizer than I have thinking about Reader Response theory. Actually, I don’t think that Reader Response theory has entered my mind more than once or twice in the last year. But I’ve thought a lot about how to project my voice at storytime or keep the kids in my book groups focused or how to locate the books that kids have been burying in odd places in the stacks.
So I guess it’s official: I’m jealous because I know that my chance to Be All That has passed me by. And it surely doesn’t help things at all that I didn’t make good use of my internship at the Horn Book to make connections with people there like Roger Sutton. Like most professions, to “be someone” in the children’s literature world you have to work someplace important, like New York City, and you have to have powerful friends in the business. In my hidden little corner of the world, I’m never going to make headlines.
But at least I’m a rock star to the kids who come to my library. And if I were smart and mature, I’d be happy with that.
Never say never. Frank McCourt became a literary rock star after he retired.
That said, fame is overrated, i’m convinced. It’s doing the work you love that matters. Everything else is just frosting.
I’m just flattered that you think I’m “cute, young, pretty, and well-dressed.” Otherwise known as “the magic of Photoshop”. Dude, I’d hate my friggin’ guts if I weren’t me. Honest-to-god, I’m a little sick of me at the moment too. But I have the inherent advantage of living in New York. Location shouldn’t matter in something as day-to-day as librarianship, but for some reason it does. Fortunately, librarians around the rest country are the awesome ones. That’s why you’ll never see me winning those Best Librarian of the Year awards that The New York Times and ALA give out.
As for how I do this stuff, I have no kids, watch very little TV, and I work with a staff of two other children’s librarians aside from myself. I never have to fill in on an adult desk, so at work I’ve lots of time to work on storytimes, shelf reading, overflow, weeding, collection development, and programming. Subway home = when I read. Then it’s a blog post before beddy-bye and that’s that. Reading at work would be friggin’ awesome. Ain’t happening, though. *sigh*
Thanks for the post! You betcha I’m linking to this. Makes me feel all celeb-like.
Jean: Thanks, you’re my favorite big sister. 🙂
Fuse #8: Wow – that’s some kind of kick-ass webcrawler you’ve got! I’m amazed you found my post, let alone that quickly. Wow.
Anyway, hope you got the gist that this is a friendly jealousy of mine (I’m definitely not some kind of weird stalker girl, no worries).
I think the difference between us might be that you work with a staff of two other children’s librarians – most of the time it’s just me, very little overlap with Jennifer (who is fabulous), so very little office time. And for a small rural library, we are *remarkably* busy, and I’ve set up a ridiculously ambitious set of Abby-run programs (storytimes, book groups, etc.).
Other than that, I’m much like you: no kids, very little T.V., and, now that I’m not tutoring as a second job, evenings spent reading. And occasionally a little TLC for the beleagured husband.
And, it should be noted, NYC scares the crap out of me. I used to dread my yearly trips to NYC for Toy Fair!! (Though Toy Fair itself was pretty cool.)
Umm, OK, be jealous, but I read your blog — I don’t read Fuse #8.
I love what you write about children, I love your observations of them in your book groups and story times. I love your pictures of felt board stuff you’ve created. I love hearing what you think about the latest big kid books (and I love that you can’t abide Stephanie Meyer). Plus you’re a good writer.
P.S. I too have offended influential people. The heck with them.
I ain’t offended. I ain’t all that influential either, though. And I used to work with FOUR other children’s librarians in one space. That was the sweet life, I can tell you. I wonder if there are branches in the country where that still happens?
Toy Fair = Awesomesauce.
and be not afraid of NYC — it is the best city in the world. After, of course Chicago, Boston, and occasionally Indianapolis. Someday, Ab, we’ll go and have a blast.
Might be more enjoyable if I travelled with you, and not with my former boss. Great guy though he is, he left me on my naive own for most of each Toy Fair. (Being a hotshot, he had to schmooze with the movers and shakers at Toy Fair, and I usually wasn’t invited.)
So when we go to NYC, can Jim come, too?
Abby, I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t even have a *mild* dislike for you. Never have. I do like your blog and have visited it several times in the past couple of years.
My first job was being the YA librarian in a tiny town an hour from Chicago. Like you, I felt out of the loop. So I started writing reviews for SLJ, then an article. It helped. In my years of participation in ALA I have met many librarians from tiny towns who built nice careers for themselves, whether they chose to stay where they were and write and review and serve on committees or use their writing and committee work to position themselves for bigger jobs. It’s more up to you than I think you think. Good luck!
Hi Roger,
Yikes – my silly little self-pity-fest has turned into quite a explosion of comments!
Glad to hear you don’t dislike me! I do wish I could go back ten years and “do over” my internship at the Horn Book and get to know you, which I really didn’t get to do when I was actually there; I didn’t make the best use of my internship due to a combination of my poor fact-checking skills and my preoccupation those days with my very ill mother, for whom I was a primary caregiver. Long story short, I’ve always felt like I didn’t optimize my opportunity at the Horn Book.
And I do know what you mean about making the best of where I am and what I have to offer. It IS up to me, completely and totally, and the fact that I’ve chosen to focus my attention on the children in my town more than my own career trajectory is exactly that – a choice. Now that my moment of self-pity has passed, I once again live in reality and know that!
Thanks for your comment, and I do believe I’d best go back and edit my post to be a tad more fair to you…:)
Wow! This has been an amazing read! I, too, would love to go to NYC with someone “in the know.” I, too, had to go there for a retail buying position, and I, too, was left behind on my own by the owner / schmoozer. I don’t think I ventured very far outside the convention center-to-the hotel and back again route.
Oh, you two! I used to go to NYC every year with the former spouse. It was so fun to wander around all day alone and go to museums, swanky stores, bookstores, eat pretzels on the street, watch all the weird people, hail cabs (yes!!), be a tourist. We must have an outing!!!
Maybe some day I’ll write a post about my favorite funny episode in NYC, involving a run-down movie theater in Times Square, a bathroom, and a cat…
I’m definitely in for a field trip. I was 22 at the time of our my last venture there. I think I’ve become more brave in the ensuing 30 years! Abby….that sounds like a great story…do tell.