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Reader Advocacy, Speaking Up, and Ducking Out: On Quitting The Printz

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Roger Sutton wrote an editorial for the July/August issue of The Horn Book Magazine that struck a chord with me last week. Read it in full here.

The ALSC Board, which oversees the division of ALA focused on services to children 12 and younger, has been working on changing the policy for those serving on their awards committees (which includes the Caldecott and Newbery). Roger’s major concern with the new policy is that it imposes a “gag order” on those serving. The members of these committees aren’t allowed to review books professionally nor personally, and they can’t talk about eligible books in any capacity anywhere online. They can’t write book lists, can’t blog about any element of the books, and so forth, if the title is eligible for their committee’s award.

While what he talks about is related to ALSC, his points are relevant to something that caught my eye in the board documents released prior to ALA Annual from YALSA, the organization dedicated to services to young adults and which administers the Printz award, among others.

Brought to the Board as a consent item, YALSA’s changing their social media policy as it relates to service on awards committees, too. You can read the entire proposal, which was passed on Saturday, right here. For the most part, it’s of the same line of expectations that many who have served have been operating under: don’t write personal reviews about books on the internet. Those could be misinterpreted by an average person, especially if your affiliation with an award is known. The policy also says that writing reviews for professional outlets is not allowed, meaning that those serving on a committee like the Printz can’t write reviews for professional trade journals including School Library Journal or VOYA (and the wording doesn’t make clear whether or not this policy extends to journals like Kirkus or Publishers Weekly which post unsigned reviews). For those who review for a little extra income, that means they’re losing that cash in exchange for a year of service. This is a loss not only to them, but it’s also a loss to the larger professional committee that depends upon solid critical reviews — ones you’d expect from professionals with the capacity to serve on awards committees.

Another point of interest in the new policy was buried in the FAQ section:

Does this mean I may not blog or tweet? 

Committee members may not blog or otherwise communicate electronically (outside of the internal committee work process) regarding any aspect of eligible titles during their committee term. Once their term is complete, committee members may not discuss the status of books as having been or not been under consideration, suggested, and/or nominated for the award or anything else discussed during the closed committee meetings. 

The bolded text gets to what Roger’s talking about in his piece. The new policy is indeed a gag order. There’s to be no electronic communication about eligible titles — any YA titles published in 2015 — at all outside of communication within the committee’s work process.

No booklists. No reader’s advisory. No talk of book covers.

For some YA librarians, that would mean they cannot do the job they are paid to do, where their job may involve updating social media or other electronic resources that have their name attached — and this happens regularly as part of many library’s desire to be seen as more personable — with information about books for the sake of their teens. They’d have to go to their boss and say they can’t do the job they were hired for for the sake of the award and the secrecy surrounding it.

In my case, that would mean not talking about any 2015 titles at all here on STACKED, no talking about 2015 titles at Book Riot, and no talking about any 2015 titles on Twitter or Tumblr or any other social network. The only time it would be okay to talk about any 2015 YA titles would be in person.

As Roger noted in the comments section of his post linked above, if someone on the committee were approached about writing an article about YA books, they wouldn’t be allowed to. If a person on the committee were approached about offering some recent reads that would appeal to a type of reader via their blog or Twitter, they couldn’t answer unless it was in person.

“Have someone else do it” sounds great in theory, but it’s not always a possibility for many, for any number of reasons. Some librarians have gained their experience through electronic means and many work in rural or small libraries where they are the sole person doing the work of reader’s advisory. Where they ARE the expert and expected as part of their job to talk and write about books. Or, they’re in places like I am where my professional experience and knowledge has put me in the great position of being able to talk about books and reading online as a job.

When I was elected onto Printz, I spent a long time wondering whether I’d still be able to do my job at Book Riot and not have a massive conflict of interest. If I wasn’t reviewing and I weren’t promoting my work in conjunction with my position on Printz, it didn’t seem like a problem.

But this new policy is an overstep that asks committee members to put their jobs involving talking and/or writing about books and their knowledge about books on hold for a year in exchange for choosing a handful of books to be regarded as “the best.” Of course being on Printz or on another award committee is not a right anyone is entitled to; it’s a privilege. But it’s a privilege that privileges those with the ability to put aside their passion, their enthusiasm, their opportunities, and in some cases, their jobs in order to maintain a shroud of secrecy.

Because of this, I made the decision to quit the Printz committee to which I was elected for next year.

It’s more important to me to advocate for readers and the books out there for them than it is for me to spend a year not talking. To spend a year in silence because I don’t have an in-person community with which I can talk about books or reading. That, as long-time readers may recall, is why STACKED began in the first place and why it continues to be the blog that it is. It’s why I took the job at Book Riot, too: more opportunity to talk about and be passionate for readers and books.

There’s a particularly thought-provoking line in Roger’s editorial that sticks out:

No librarian worthy of the name should ever put herself in the position of not being able to promote good books.

I’d rather give up this opportunity — one that many wonderful, generous people helped me earn by signing the petition to get me on the ballot and then voting for me in the election — than spend a year worrying that any and all things I say can or would be used against me by YALSA.

Because what would constitute as electronic communication? What would the line be between what’s appropriate and what isn’t? What would happen were I to tweet with an author, for example, who had an eligible book during my committee term? What if I answered a request from someone who wanted to know about some diverse contemporary YA that had come out recently? What if I were asked to help identify a book by its cover and it happened to be an eligible book?

Maybe those sound a bit extreme, but they’re not.

Two years ago, I was asked to be part of the Outstanding Books for the College Bound committee. But, when I received the offer, there was a string attached to it — I needed to have a talk with someone because there were some concerns about me.

I’m a rule-follower who pours over things like board documents to think through what an organization I’m part of is doing, so hearing there were concerns sent me into a panic. The concerns were two part. First, I misattributed a blog post an individual blogger wrote to the organization, which was an error on my part and I apologized.

The second was a comment I made about YALSA wanting to implement paid advertising on their Hub Blog, to generate money off content put together by its members, who essentially pay membership fees to run the blog and write for it. I didn’t — and still don’t — think an organization should profit off the hard work of its members without compensating them for it. I was told that raising this point in my own blog space was inappropriate, to which I responded that as a paying, active, and involved member of YALSA, I had the right to share an opinion about these decisions, whether or not they’re implemented or considered.

I have a right to my voice, especially if I’m involved.

Not long after that, I went to ALA Midwinter and served as the administrative assistant to the Alex Committee. I’d been a part of it all that year, but this was when the actual decisions were being made. It was a wonderful experience — my first sitting on a committee making some big choices. As an admin, I had no reading to do and I couldn’t talk about the books. I was there to take notes, to run the straw polls, and to do other administrative tasks as they arose. That means long stretches in a room being silent. Not a huge deal; it was fun to watch the passion and debate over what titles deserved the honor.

When the deliberations were going on, I made a couple of tweets about the process. I believe one was something like it’s great to watch how passionately these committee members are debating books and I believe I tweeted when the final slate was selected saying that they all worked hard and it was going to be exciting to share those titles. Absolutely nothing about the process was said (I may have said I was running the straw poll and that it was intense) and no book titles or discussion points were tweeted. It was innocuous tweeting about how fun the experience was.

I got home from ALA to a phone call where I was told that what I’d done in tweeting was inappropriate. Because it was a closed committee, absolutely nothing was to be said and I needed to be careful.

This surprised me because everyone who is involved in YALSA or who cares about these awards knows that members of closed committees frequently tweet when they’re done or tweet they’re excited to have picked their winners. It’s part of raising the profile of the award and more, the HARD WORK that committees put into their year of service. It is something I had seen in the past, and something I’ve seen since: lots of us talked about how early the Printz committee had finished their deliberations at the most recent ALA Midwinter — multiple committee members tweeted about it — and we speculated on what that could mean come the day of announcements.

I’m still confused why I was singled out about what I’d tweeted out the year before when I’d done nothing differently.

These experiences are why I chose to step down from the Printz committee. With YALSA’s decision to gag order all communication about books electronically that could be eligible for an award, every word I say would be scrutinized. Because of my previous experience with the inconsistency in how these policies are enforced and the feeling YALSA was not receptive to discussion about the operation of the organization from its members, I didn’t think spending a year worrying that any or all things I say could turn into a problem at any given moment was worth it.

Abby wrote a post a few years ago about how ALA is not your mom. It’s well-worth reading, especially because the point of it is how important being an active and engaged member of your own community — whatever it is — is how you make it worthwhile.

The part I want to especially highlight is this:

I’m here today to say that ALA is an organization made up of US.  It’s not some magical entity floating around to solve all librarians’ problems.  ALA is what we make of it.

Therefore, if you’re not getting what you want out of ALA (what is it that you want out of ALA, anyway?), the only way to change that is to get involved. 

ALA is not your mom.  ALA is not there to do your laundry and pick up your socks, metaphorically speaking.  ALA exists to create a professional network for the sharing of ideas, the bettering of our profession, and the education of library staff. 

You know what is absolutely NOT helpful?  People complaining about something and not doing anything to change it.  ALA is what you make of it.  If you don’t like it, get involved and change it. 

I’ve tried to make the best of being in YALSA by regularly volunteering. I blogged for the Hub for 2 years, served on a process committee very early in my career, I’ve presented and put in proposals to present multiple times, and I’ve volunteered to be on selection committees every year since the start.  I find satisfaction in being involved. It costs me a lot financially (all paid for on my own) and in terms of time. I do it because I love being a part of an organization comprised of people like me who are impassioned and dedicated to teens, teen lit, and teen library services. I do it so I can work toward making change happen.

But this new policy and my previous experiences have made me see this organization as more like my mother than as an organization made up of “us” — people like me and unlike me who share similar interests and intellectual development opportunities.

You can be involved and passionate, but an organization has to be receptive to that. They should be consistent, communicative, and willing to listen.

It’s better at this point for me to step away so that I can be involved in the book community and share my passion and knowledge with others. With these new policies, I’ve realized I cannot do this while connected to YALSA.

I, like all elected committee members past and present, care a lot about books and about readers, as well as connecting the right readers to the right books. I’d rather continue to engage publicly with this amazing book community — blogging, tweeting, tumbling, engaging in online discussion — to keep doing that. I’m disappointed I have to give up the opportunity to serve on the Printz to do so, but I can’t play by the rules that I didn’t agree to in the first place which now ask me to give up the things I worked so hard for over the course of my career. I respect the choices of all members and am grateful for the contributions and service to the book community that serving on a committee offers. But I also know I can’t be the only committee member in my position struggling with what this change in policy means.

All committee members have to make the decision that’s best for them, and this is the best choice for me.

I can’t wait to talk about the rich, wide world of 2015 in YA because I have a feeling it’s going to be worth shouting about. Books and reading are always worth celebrating and discussing.

A Whirlwind Trip to PLA 2014, “About the Girls,” + Other Musings

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I just got back from a whirlwind trip down to Indianapolis to present at the Public Library Association conference. When I say whirlwind, I really mean it. My plans went a little askew because of a winter storm, but in the end, we made it down to Indy Wednesday evening and I made it back to my house in Wisconsin on Friday morning.

PLA was too short for the amount of fun it was. And I think this is the first time ever that I’ve felt presenting at a conference was completely fun without some kind of attachment to it. I didn’t feel nervous like I have in the past. It felt comfortable and good, and both of those things coalesced into making the experience so enjoyable.

After arriving on Wednesday night, I got to see both Angie Manfredi and Sophie Brookover. Angie and I made a quick trip through the exhibit halls — where I got to surprise and be surprised by seeing a friend there when neither of us knew the other was going — and let me just say that PLA exhibits are fun, low key, and enjoyable. This isn’t ALA exhibit opening night. This opening night involved enjoying some pita, hummus, spiced chicken, baba ghanoush, and some dessert. We picked up a few galleys, chatted with the vendors, and had this excellent picture snapped and shared by Penguin:

We didn’t stick around long, and I went out to dinner with Sophie afterward to have a power chat and talk a tiny bit about our morning presentation on “new adult” fiction. We went back to our room after and shared some of Wisconsin’s finest beer (because when I can travel somewhere by car, I’m going to bring my state’s finest). 
The nice thing about an 11 am presentation was the luxury of being able to sleep in and take it easy in the morning, which we all did. But then we made our way over to the convention center to give our talk on “new adult” fiction. 

Sophie and I had our “new adult” presentation accepted as a conversation starter, meaning that rather than talk at the room for an hour, the audience in attendance would be participants in the discussion. This set up was marvelous and so insightful for me (and I’m assuming Sophie, too). We had a five-part plan of attack, where we would talk for a few minutes on an aspect of “new adult,” then have the attendees discuss a question relating to what we’d talked about for a few minutes. We’d reconvene and hear what they had to say. 
Our room was full, too.

This conversation starter was so fun. We knew what we had to say, and we were confident in the message we wanted to impart (that “new adult” can and should be something much bigger than what’s being sold and packaged AS “new adult”) was what attendees took away. We got to hear from a number of people who had been working with 18-26 year olds, including libraries doing programs and collection work for this emerging adult group and a university librarian who works with this group and helps them find pleasure reading. The mix of experience and knowledge was perfect. We took copious notes during the session, which we plan on typing up and posting in our “new adult” resources page on the readadv blog — and if you attended the session or are curious about “new adult,” you can find those resources right here.

I had a lot of fun giving this presentation and learning from everyone else in the room. I’ve never felt so CONFIDENT about giving a presentation before, and it was such a neat experience being on that side of the fear/anxiety/worry spectrum. I think a lot of it had to do with remembering while I’m at the front of the room, I’m also there to learn from those in the room — it’s a collaborative effort, even if I’m the one (with Sophie!) who has to get the conversation started.

After my morning presentation, I had lunch with a friend, and because I had so little time between sessions, I had to run out of lunch earlier than I’d like. Perhaps I was too casual, as I was the last one to arrive to the second session…and I was the one with the technology. But we got it together and were prepared well before the start.

The teen programming session, which was a traditional panel, included Andrea Sowers, Angie Manfredi, and Katie Salo. We’ve been collaborating together since early in 2010. I had a really bizarre moment while I was sitting up on this stage and this was my view:

Hold on. That doesn’t quite capture it. Let me borrow this photo from Jason Walters:

So the weird moment was that I was sitting in seats just like that only five years ago. I was attending sessions just like this one in hopes of figuring out the secrets of teen programming success. But here I was now, sitting at the front of the room, facing out, rather than sitting in the back. Kind of surreal. And it hit me when I had that realization that what I had to say wasn’t necessarily about how I do great stuff (because, honestly, I don’t make new worlds here) but it was about how important it is to build a network like the one sitting beside me and how important it is to try, fail, then try again.

During our panel, I think it became clear how much we all work to collaborate with one another. We’d set up the discussion like a Q&A, and Angie moderated, asking us to weigh in on a few questions. When asked about my most successful teen program, all three of my fellow panelists jumped in saying they’d used my program idea and modified it, then explained how they had succeeded or failed doing the very same things.

This panel was also a LOT of fun. The four of us have very different experiences, come from very different libraries, with very different needs and outcomes. Angie was able to work in her standard line about how today’s teens aren’t interested in Buffy and how important it is to just stay abreast of your local teens interests and cater to them. If you want to see what others had to say or share during our panel, there are a few tweets at the #teenprog to explore. I’m positive that the ladies I did this with will also blog about it and I’d be happy to round those up.

After the panel finished, we were approached by folks who wanted to ask questions to us directly, and I had the privilege of meeting people who read Stacked (!!!) and who were kind enough to say nice things about it. I also got to meet a local to me librarian, which is always such a joy to me. It was nice to bounce ideas and thoughts with people, and it was even nicer to remind people of that very revelation I had: I’m not an expert but a colleague who is happy to share experiences and ideas where they’re helpful and useful.

When the second session finished, I was back in the car and on the road home. It was a bummer not to see more people or sessions beyond mine, but I’m SO excited to dig into the PLA tag and discover more. What an enjoyable conference and enjoyable set of presenting experiences to have.

I’m going to be riding high on them for quite a while and I’m so grateful to everyone who came out, who interacted, and who (without being paid) said such nice things about my sessions and this blog (which will forever thrill me to the core).

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We’re at the mid-way point of our “About the Girls” series, and I just wanted to send a quick thank you to not just those who have taken part — and will be taking part — in writing the post. But I also wanted to send a huge thank you to those of you reading and talking about these posts. I’ve had some of the nicest comments recently from readers, and I’ve been able to see teachers who are using these posts and discussion fodder in classrooms. 
There is literally nothing that could excite me more than thinking about teens having these conversations about “unlikable” girls or female friendships in YA fiction. I love reading what you’re doing and sharing that, so yes! If you are having these talks or pointing people to these posts or writing about them yourself, keep sending them my way so I can enjoy and share them, too.
I will try to put together a roundup at the end of the series with all of your posts as well. 
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The voting for ALA elections opens next week, and I have an interview about my qualifications and experience over at YALSA’s blog. 

I’m running for the 2016 Printz Committee

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You might remember that last summer I petitioned for a spot on the 2016 Printz Committee ballot. I got enough petition signatures to make it happen, and with the elections opening on March 19 — just a week and a half from now — I thought I’d formally announce that I am indeed on the ballot and give a little further information about my qualifications for those who are eligible to vote.

If you’re a YALSA member, you’ll get your ballot sometime that week, and you’ll have through the end of April to vote. I’d be honored if you’d vote for me for Printz. Here are my qualifications:

– I understand the award. This isn’t a popularity award and it’s not about best appeal. The Printz is about rewarding outstanding literary merit.

– That said, I’ve been working with teens and teen literature since 2009, when I graduated from library school and moved across the country. I worked for a year and a half as a reference and teen librarian, moved on to a youth services position, then back to a reference and teen position for the last couple of years. I’ve always been responsible for selection, as well as reader’s advisory, for teens.

– All of my jobs have been in the midwest, first in a Rockford, Illinois suburb, then in a small Wisconsin town, and now in a semi-urban Wisconsin town. I bring up where I’ve worked because I not only think it brings a different perspective and element of diversity to the committee in terms of experience, but I also bring it up because my experiences are tied to where I am. I don’t have big city nor big state resources at my fingertips, and the opportunities I’ve had with YALSA and via the CYBILS, as well as via blogging and writing for professional journals, have been extremely valuable and important to me.

– I’ve been blogging here since 2009 as well, and I like to think I’m able to critically and thoughtfully talk about YA lit. I’m comfortable reading and assessing a wide range of YA fiction.

– On the topic of blogging, I wrote for YALSA’s The Hub blog for a year and a half.

– In 2009, 2010, and 2011, I served on the CYBILS. All three years, I was part of the YA fiction judging panel, in 2009 on round two and in 2010 and 2011 on the round one panel. This meant I read a lot of books, discussed a lot of books, and did so in a short period of time. I learned how to work with and within a committee structure. I’m able to offer my own thoughts on books, as well as listen to and work with the thoughts others bring to books.

– In 2012, I served as the administrative assistant on the Alex Awards committee. It was my duty to be a point of contact to and for the publishers and coordinate requested titles, track their arrivals, and follow up on any questions regarding the committee and its process. At ALA and ALA Midwinter that year, I sat in on those committee discussions and got a first-hand look at how the process works for an awards committee.

– In 2013, I served on Outstanding Books for the College Bound. I read, discussed, and and worked with the committee to craft the list that is published every 5 years.

– I have published widely on the topic of YA fiction. I’ve written for The Horn Book, for VOYA, School Library Journal, and more. You can read my entire publication history here, if you’re interested.

– I’ve presented on the topic of YA fiction, as well. My presentation history is here.

– I am eager and willing to put in the time and effort to be a part of the committee. I have a very flexible job, and I’m able to attend both ALA events. Even though I am not financially supported by my institution — and never have been for any of my committee roles — it is a priority and an honor to me to to volunteer, and thus, I am able to make it happen.

I chose to petition for the Printz ballot because it’s a committee I have dreamed of being a part of since I began my career in teen librarianship. This was my opportunity to put myself out there for the possibility of making it happen. I’ve been active and involved in the YA lit world, and I believe I’m able to bring my knowledge and experience to the table, as well as sit embrace the knowledge and experience of other people on the committee.

I’ve spent a long time considering, too, what would happen here and at Book Riot were I to be elected, and honestly, I’m not worried. I would be unable to talk about current titles, but knowing how much there is TO talk about books, it’s not a concern of mine. I’m good at prioritizing and planning and being organized — all skills that’ll be beneficial on the committee — so finding a way to keep writing without talking about what I can’t talk about isn’t something I’m worried about.

I’m purposefully not talking about my favorite Printz books in this post because that’s coming soon elsewhere. I’ll link them when they go live, but I’ve been graciously given some space over at YALSA’s blogs to talk about my candidacy, and I’ve also been given space at a couple of other blogs run by librarians I admire to talk.

It’s really weird to talk about myself like this, because while I’m confident in my abilities, it’s uncomfortable to feel like I’m advertising myself here. But here it is, and I’m going to wrap up this post by highlighting two other folks on the Printz ballot in 2016 you should know: Lalitha Nataraj and Paige Battle. Lali I’ve known for a few years via social media, and she’s been involved with the Amelia Bloomer Project. I know Paige from the Alex Awards committee, where she’s served the last two years. Both would be excellent members of the committee, bringing great perspectives and insights into the discussion. (And selfishly, I’d love to work with both of them, too).