working with wordpress, and other lessons in software selection

A year ago or so, when I decided to take on redesigning our library website*, I immediately decided to use WordPress. Although I’ve never actually installed WordPress by myself, I run two blogs that use it. I’d seen a gorgeous implementation of it at the Thomas Ford Memorial Library. I understood more or less how it worked and what you could do with it, which is not something I could (or can) say for Drupal or Joomla or a lot of wiki software. So I dove in: I did a sample site on wordpress.com; I got our IT guy to install the real thing for me; I mucked around with the markup till I figured out how to change colors and get rid of some of the bloggier elements, such as dates on pages, and in the process screwed up a lot of other things that, happily, my friends were able to fix.

These days the site is looking pretty good, I think, and I’ve taught seven or eight other people to add content to it, which I think is awesome. But there are some things that I never considered when I was starting out on this lark (most of my projects start as larks), and while I don’t think I made a bad decision, I thought I’d enumerate some of the difficulties, too.

CMS difficulties
WordPress is blogging software, not content management software. If you don’t want to do anything too complicated, it works well enough, but there are compromises I’ve had to make. Although the Park County Library System is a system, in consists of three very different libraries that are a long way away from one another. It’s 32 miles from my library to the main library in Cody, and it’s 26 miles beyond that to get to the other branch in Powell, and unless you can fly, there’s no way to make those journeys any shorter. I was torn, and still am, by how to represent those differences while still creating a unified website. I chose to make separate pages for each library instead of (as Thomas Ford does) making separate pages for each group we serve. That means that we don’t have a central kids’ place: we have a Cody kids’ place, a Powell kids’ place, and a Meeteetse kids’ place. That means I can’t just say, “Hey, want to know what the library is doing for young people? Go to parkcountylibrary.org/kids.” I’m not completely sure that balancing those two things is something a real CMS could do better, but I imagine that it might.

Upgrades
This one really threw me for a loop. I have done WordPress upgrades before (all by myself! though with fear and trepidation and many, many backups), but I was not at all prepared for the whole new look of the backend that came with the move from 2.3 to 2.5. A different look for the backend isn’t a big deal for me, and it may not be for you, but for a lot of my website contributors, it’s going to be a big hurdle. I’ve created training materials [Word doc] with circles and arrows and paragraphs explaining what each thing is, and while you might think you could say, “Hey, just look around — the categories are still there, they’re just in a different place,” for some people, it’s a big change, and I’ll need to redo all my circles and arrow for the new format — and that’s a significant time investment

I’ve been ignoring the upgrade because of the time and effort that will be involved, but I sort of know I can’t do it forever. (If someone can explain to me what exactly the security threat of running old software is, I’d appreciate it greatly. I know it’s a threat; I just don’t know why or what sorts of bad things could happen because of the holes in the software.)

Things people want to do that the software just won’t do
I gave up on getting our library card signup form fit into WordPress, which I think is basically okay. But I’ve had people want to create all sorts of things — forms, tables, exactly positioned images — that, for various reasons, just don’t quite work with WordPress, or don’t work with it without them learning some HTML. I love that I can get pretty much anyone who can use Word putting stuff on the website, but it’s hard to know exactly what to tell them when they start to get irked with the limits of WYSIWYG editing. Again, to us learning a few HTML tags may not seem like a big deal, but it’s a leap for people who just want to update the children’s section quickly and get back to their work as very busy children’s librarians.

For these reasons and others, I’ve been trying to create a little community of practice for people using WordPress in libraries. Jessamyn has blogged about it already, but even though I think my mom is the only person who reads this who doesn’t read librarian.net, I thought I’d repeat it. If you’re at all interested in using WordPress in a library context, from Scriblio to a teen blog space, please join us!

We have

  • a wiki I have always used pbwiki as a free wiki service in the past and would have used it for this, too, but their latest upgrade, I got a little irritated at them, so after shopping around, I chose bluwiki instead. It’s free; it’s ad-free; it’s decent looking, but it’s not as familiar as pbwiki, and I wonder if that means that it will be harder for some people to use.
  • a WebJunction group The new WebJunction has some nice new social features, and a WJ group allows you to set up both a discussion forum and a place to upload documents, so I thought we’d give it a whirl.
  • an email list Well, sort of an email list. I’ve run any number of lists in the past, but there’s something going on with this one that I don’t quite get, wherein messages only seem to go out if you send them from the site. If we don’t get this figured out soon, we may migrate to a different provider. I feel incredibly dumb for not being able to make this work better, which just goes to show you that even if you think you’re thinking about it, software can come back to bite you when you least expect it.

*Our old site, for the curious, looked kind of like this (although significantly better in IE than in Firefox).

the new Cody library, my sort of new job, and other news

I realized long ago that I was never going to be a newsy blogger. There are plenty of other people out there reporting on new things, so I don’t. Sometimes, however, I really ought to report some news about what’s happening at my actual librarian job.

I came out to interview for this job in January of 2006. That same week, the Cap Tax II campaign to fund a new Cody library kicked off. I arrived on the job in March and got to work on that website not too long afterwards. That November, I got to celebrate not only the trouncing of the Republican majority in Congress but also the passage of the cap tax. (In fact, I was on the road on vacation the day after election day. We stopped in Farson to get gas, and I called the library from a payphone to get the news.) Some months after that, I started work on what would become the Park County Library website , and last October I attended the groundbreaking for the new library.

This Saturday, the old Cody library will close its doors for the last time. The new library will open six weeks later, on October 4th, and it should be a site to behold: three times the size of the incredibly overcrowded current library (where the branch manager and the circulation manager both have desks right behind the circulation desk, and boxes of donated books line the walls along the entrance).

I’m thrilled that I’ll get to be there. And since, although they’re not really connected, my progress in my job and the progress of the Cody library project have been intertwined in my time here, I’m also excited to tell you about the ways my job is changing. While I’ll remain as a librarian in Meeteetse and continue to do collection development and instruction and programming there, I’m turning over a lot of my administrative duties to my extremely able coworker. That will give me time to be a traveling librarian one day a week and a virtual librarian another. I’ll be traveling to the Powell and Cody libraries to do staff training and, eventually, to teach some classes for the public. And one day a week (or, more likely, hours throughout the week that add up to about a day a week), I’ll be working on our virtual branch, developing web content (like this silly little screencast I just made) and learning more about whatever I need to learn. (I’ve got a ways to go before I’ll meet Mabel Wilkinson’s requirements , but maybe someday.) I look forward to continuing to grow with the library system where I work.

the how I became a librarian story

I’ve enjoyed reading stories about how people became librarians, and now Iris wants me to share mine . I am a lazy blogger, and thus I will just say that my story is exactly like Iris’s, but with the following differences:

  • for English major, substitute Classics major
  • for MA in literature, substitute MFA in nonfiction writing
  • for "they’d take me back into the Ph.D. program," substitute they wouldn’t accept me into a Ph.D. program

Our stories otherwise are eerily similar. I, too, had never thought of being a librarian, had never asked for help from a librarian, had never considered what kind of education a librarian had. This is embarassing on a number of levels, since I visited libraries of one sort or another probably four out of any five days for most of my life, and since my great aunt is a library director. I, too, had a mother who said, "Have you considered being a librarian?"

I did actually try off and on to get part-time work at a library, because it seemed like a good kind of part-time job, but I had no luck whatsoever until I started library school. After a semester there, I got a youth services assistant job at a library in the Chicago suburbs. It still cracks me up that, after I got there, someone said, "Oh, we were so glad to get your resume, because everyone else who applied for the job had just worked at Starbucks." I had applied to work at Starbucks stores in various places three times in that decade and had never been accepted. You’re always wrong until you’re right.

I started library school with the goal of becoming an archivist specializing in activist and labor history. How I ended up where I am is another story for another blog post.

I’m tagging the rest of the LauraCon: Laura Carscaddon and Laura Harris .

using the catalog

Roy Tennant says that “No one in their right mind wants to use a library catalog,” and I must, respectfully, disagree.

I agree that he’s right in some situations — if you just want to look for a mystery or a cookbook and you want go to the library to do so, then no, you probably don’t want to use a library catalog. But not every library user in every library is after a casual browsing experience, and not every user wants to use the library that way.

I know several people who go to the library only to pick up holds they’ve requested. You know how they request those holds? They use the catalog. When I was in college (when I would not have been caught dead consulting a librarian) doing research for a paper, I did not want to tromp all over the library looking for things; I wanted to have a list and go after it. You know how I got that list? I used the catalog (which, helpfully, listed both subjects and sub-subjects–I was a literature geek, so whenever I hit –History and criticism, I knew I was good). Sometimes I want a book but I can’t think of who the author is. You know how I find that information out? I use the catalog. One could, of course, use Amazon these days, but for much of my library-going life, that wasn’t an option.

We all know catalogs could be much, much better. But I’m not ready to throw them away entirely.

library camp of the west: join us in denver in october!

I’m good at having ideas. “We should do an oral history project podcast at my library!” “I should learn PHP in the next two weeks so I can build an application to get people to donate money for furniture for the library!” “I should blog this! [whatever “this” might be]” I am not generally so good at follow through. But today I am happy to announce that, due to the efforts of Joe Kraus and Steve Lawson, one of my ideas is actually going to happen:

Library Camp of the West will be held at the University of Denver on Friday, October 10 from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m.

You can more about how Steve and I have been tossing this idea around for a couple of years over on his blog. Until Steve had the good fortune to get to know Joe, this unconference was so unconferency that we didn’t even have a date or a place. Thanks to Joe, we now have both. Now we just need some attendees and some ideas.

If you can come, sign yourself up on the wiki, and if you have an idea, add it there, too. If this sounds intriguing but you’re still in the dark about wikis, drop me a line at newrambler at gmail dot com. Library camps have traditionally been heavily focused on the technological parts of librarianship, but I don’t think they have to be. The idea of library camp is to get a bunch of smart library people together to share ideas — and maybe even get a barn and put on a show. I hope you can join us!

the 2.0 aesthetic: a draft with some comments

One of the great pleasures of college was that I got to spend time around a lot of very smart (and often very funny) people. It was a lot like the biblioblogosphere in that respect — the biblioblogosphere with cafeteria food. Among the smartest of these friends was the guy who introduced me to the idea of an aesthetic — that is, to the idea that what you wore and what you listened to and what you liked expressed not just a peculiar set of preferences but also, quite frequently, something about your socio-economic status and your politics and your belief system. I was bowled over by this (please remember that at the time I was 19 or 20 and it was probably 3:30 in the morning at Denny’s in Poughkeepsie).

I’ve been thinking a lot about aesthetics lately, and about how thinking about a 2.0 aesthetic is helpful in thinking about some of the thornier — and often unacknowledged — problems in what we want to do in libraries.

First, let us admit, for the purposes of this argument, that we have an aesthetic. We like Gmail better than Hotmail. We think Flickr is a better way to share our photos than Kodak Gallery. We’re opposed to unnecessary file formats, and we generally think CSS is better than tables. Many of us like Moleskins and are Mac devotees. We are RSS bigots. LibraryThing is better than Shelfari! Twitter and FriendFeed are duking it out!

I’m generalizing, of course, and I’ve undoubtedly offended more than a few of you, but can you honestly tell me that you relate to nothing in that list, or in a list like it? I doubt it. I’m guilty on multiple counts.

We have this aesthetic, or these aesthetics, and they play a big part in our lives, since a good chunk of us spend much of our lives in front of a computer, using a web browser. I’m always stunned that there are people who find Internet Explorer an acceptable way to surf the web, but you know what? A lot of people do find it satisfactory.

I worry sometimes that we are so caught up in our aesthetic that we let it guide our decisions without questioning whether what we are doing is really in our patrons’ best interests or is simply what we would want as library patrons. Awhile ago I was putting together a presentation about how to make a website. My initial opening involved showing a bunch of what we would all consider really ugly websites. Then I showed a few slides to someone and realized that, to them, these sites didn’t look that bad. They weren’t picking up on what was, to me, an obvious aesthetic difference between “The Wizard” and, say, the lovely chicago6corners site. What I considered to be obvious and immediate “bad” and “good” weren’t obviously bad and good to everyone.

Aesthetics tend to be associated with looks, but there is more to an aesthetic than just design. In much of the web world, “free” is as essential as rounded corners and valid markup — so important that Chris Anderson is making money on it. Things that are free on the web make up a big part of my life these days. I love Twitter and I love the LSW Meebo Room, and, like most other denizens, I get frustrated when one of them isn’t working. But I wonder how much of that frustration is really justified. I mean, think about it — Twitter is running this huge service for free for all the thousands of us who use it. I have no idea how they’re funding the thing — I assume they’ve got venture capital to spare and are counting on getting us hooked enough that we’ll put up with ads later on, the way that people still shelled out money for cable TV even after it started to have commercials. If we were all paying to use Twitter, I could justify the anger. But we’re not — we’re just expecting people to cater to our addiction to the thing. (Many of us might well be willing to pay, of course, but we’re not, not yet.)

That kind of expectation of entitlement is dangerous. It’s dangerous because expecting things to be free means you’re increasingly willing to let advertising enter your life. And it’s dangerous, as Walt points out, because it means we no longer value people who make things, particularly intangible things. I’m all for Creative Commons licensing — most of what I put on the web comes with a Creative Commons license. But (with very rare exceptions) I don’t write for free to other people’s specifications. I don’t work for free at my library, either. I get paid, and I get paid with public money that has been put aside under the understanding that there are certain things in life that should be out of the control of the market. Anti-commercialism is a big part of my aesthetic, or so I believe. But some days I run up against things that make me question whether my other aesthetic principles are in accordance with the ones I hold most dear.

cover letter madness

I am in Iowa for a couple days longer, but before it goes out of style, I thought I’d post my contributions to the whole cover letter meme. (If you are looking for true cover letter hilarity, you may wish to visit my friends over at Hermits Rock.)

Cover letters, like letters of recommendation, are, I think, very hard to write because usually when you start out, you’ve never seen a cover letter. Sure, you can get a book with examples, and you can get some advice, but you just don’t see a lot of cover letters until you actually have a job and have hired people or served on a search committee. (Of course, now that I think of it, I did see a whole stack of cover letters once while visiting a friend whose mother was hiring a new teacher for the school district. Said letters were uniformly awful, but presumably at least one of them was successful, which is more than I can say for most of mine). And the business of cover letter writing and resume writing is so convoluted. You’re trying to brag without sounding like you’re bragging, and you’re trying to make the things you’ve done sound more official than they often actually were. During our senior year of college, my house mates and I spent an afternoon cracking each other up by translating our resumes so they’d say what we’d really done: “Assisted in the planning and execution of department events and functions” became “Brought soda,” and so on.

I have applied for many, many, many jobs in my life and have gotten almost none of them. I looked through my file for a representative cover letter from one of these fruitless searches, and while it’s not exactly representative, the letter I sent to the Enyclopaedia Britannica in 2004 is illustrative of the worst of my cover-letter-writing faults. To wit:

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing to apply for the Copy Editor position that you have advertised at copyeditor.com. Actually, I am writing to apply for any position you have open for which I would qualify. Since my chief training is as a writer—I completed an MFA in Nonfiction Writing from the University of Iowa in May 2003; prior to that, I studied at Vassar College, where I received a BA in Greek in 1998 and did extensive coursework in English and history—I’m going to start this letter by telling you a very short story.

When I was ten years old, my mother and I returned from seeing The Gods Must be Crazy with a burning question: where in the Kalahari desert was the “edge of the world” over which Xixo threw the Coke bottle at the end of the movie? What ridge in Botswana would be high enough that you could see clouds below you? This was before the internet (which I just used to track down the name of the protagonist and the country the movie took place in, both of which I had forgotten), so when we got home, we pulled several volumes the Encylopædia Britannica off the shelf, laid them on the floor, and carefully unfolded the maps that lay between the tissue-thin pages. As it happens, we had the eleventh edition of the Britannica, which is a bit out of date, but though the national boundaries have changed quite a bit, the topography was accurate enough that we easily picked out several possibilities. Years later, in college, I learned that Denis Diderot believed that an encyclopædia was a book designed “to change the general way of thinking.” That’s a bold statement, and probably not one we would want to associate with tomes designed as objective sources of information. But if you spend any time reading encylopædias and have any imagination, you do start to think, and think differently, after a while. You realize that the world is round to some and flat to others, and you start to think about what those differences mean.

I have worked as a newspaper columnist, a graduate instructor at the University of Iowa, and as an adjunct teacher at a private school in Iowa City. I have been proofreading, fact-checking, and doing general editing work for friends for years. I would greatly enjoy the chance to work at the Britannica in the digital age, and perhaps on into whatever comes next.

Sincerely,
Laura E. Crossett

Translation: I have absolutely no job skills but I like to be a show-off anyway.

When I started applying for library jobs during library school, I decided I had to figure out some way to make a lot of disparate pursuits sound as though they were actually useful and related to the sort of work I would be doing as a librarian. To that end, I first divided up the work experience section of my resume into parts — library experience, teaching experience, and sometimes journalism or writing experience. I then used those divisions as the basis for a cover letter. My letter was, in effect, a five paragraph theme:

Introduction: I would be good at this job because of my experience as a librarian, a teacher, and a writer.

Paragraph 1: library experience

Paragraph 2: teaching experience

Paragraph 3: writing experience

Conclusion: My experience as a writer, teacher, and librarian would make me perfect for this position.

Dull, but it got the job done, and it was a way for me to structure my largely unstructured experiences in a way that made them sound a little better. Below I is the letter for the job I have now. I used the same letter for every library job I applied for, although I changed some introductory details for each job to show I’d done a little research about the place. I sent out three letters and got two interviews and a phone call saying “we really wish we could interview you but we need someone yesterday, but we’ll keep you in mind if we have other openings,” so I must finally have done something right. It’s a long letter — almost two pages — but I don’t think that’s a bad thing, so long as your pages contain actual examples of skills and successes you’ve had (or possibly haven’t had — I think my “regular contact” with the junior and senior high librarians was more like “attempted contact” — but hey, I tried).

Dear ______:

I am writing to express my interest in the position of Branch Manager at the Meeteetse Public Library. I saw the advertisement a month or so ago when it was posted on LISjobs.com, and I have been reading up on Meeteetse ever since. It sounds ideal. Although I currently live in the suburbs of Chicago, I have, like my fellow Iowan Buffalo Bill Cody, long been drawn to the West. I am a believer in the strength of rural areas, and Meeteetse seems like a community where I could use my skills as a librarian and educator and a place where I could feel at home.

Although I will not complete my MLIS degree from Dominican University until May 2006, I am applying now on the very off chance that the job will still be open then—or on the chance that the job will still be open in January and that I can arrange to complete my coursework through a distance-learning program. One never knows.

I have worked in three major fields: libraries, education, and journalism. Each of these professions has given me different, though related, skills; taken together, these skills make me ideally equipped to be a jack-of-all-trades librarian in a position such as the one in Meeteetse.

I currently work as the Young Adult Services coordinator at the Franklin Park Library in a working-class suburb northwest of Chicago. I manage the young adult collection, organize programming for older kids and young adults, provide reference and readers’ advisory services in the children’s room, and help out with computer troubleshooting throughout the library. With the cooperation of the adult fiction librarian and the Technical Services department, I have established a young adult graphic novel collection. Over eighty kids aged 10-14 participated in the young adult “Superheroes: Powered by Books” summer reading program this past summer through reading books, attending weekly programs, and entering the contest to design a library superhero. I keep in regular contact with the librarians at the local junior and senior high schools, and I look forward to collaborating with them on some programs in the coming year. One thing that I noticed in reading the Wyoming Rural Development Council’s Rural Resource Team Report on Meeteetse was that, as is the case in many small communities (and some big ones), there is a great need for activities and outlets for young people. I am enthusiastic about getting young people involved in their library and in their community.

Prior to beginning library school, I spent three years teaching at the University of Iowa, where I received an MFA from the Nonfiction Writing Program and took courses in the Education Department. During my time at Iowa, I taught both at the University and at Willowwind School, a private alternative grade school in Iowa City, where I taught Latin and tutored students in a variety of subjects. Additionally, I ran a Saturday drama workshop for kids in kindergarten through second grade. Teaching at a school like Willowwind, where the schedule was rarely the same from day to day, and where the staff worked cooperatively and creatively on everything from how to supervise two different classes sharing the same room to how to get the toilet unclogged, has given me the flexibility to change plans quickly and the good humor necessary to take disaster — or at least creative disorder — in stride. When not teaching, I have worked as a freelance writer for a variety of publications addressing an array of audiences, from the readers of a campus newspaper to those of a weekly alternative tabloid to those taking standardized tests.

The skills that I have gained through my work as a librarian, a teacher, and a writer have prepared me to work and communicate effectively with the public; my schooling has provided me with a foundation in education and librarianship. I would bring to the job of Branch Manager my enthusiasm for books and information and my zeal for getting people, young and old alike, connected to the world of information and imagination not just as readers and absorbers but as creative participants. I would bring my familiarity with a variety of technology and my willingness to learn more. I would bring my love of open spaces and my belief in community. I realize that you may need to fill this position as soon as possible, but if it does remain open, or if another position should open up in the Park County Library System, I hope that you will keep me in mind.

Thank you very much for your time and consideration, and I look forward to hearing from you soon. Please feel free to contact me via e-mail [fancy Vassar alum email address] or by phone at ________.

Sincerely,

Laura Crossett

a personal interlude

I’m writing this in Iowa City, where I am, unexpectedly, for a week or so. As you may or may not know, I have another blog, which in theory contains things not related to librarianship, which is supposedly what this blog is for, although there is an invariable overlapping, which is why I mention this here. If you follow this blog in a merely professional sense, this is largely irrelevant, but because I’ve become close to some of you in the biblioblogosphere and care about what is happening in your lives, I wanted to alert you to some of the things that have been happening in mine.

three little candles

I’ve been trying to remember lately how I first figured out RSS and when I got myself set up with a Bloglines account. I remember that Morgan told me there were a lot of great radical librarian bloggers during the summer of 2003, but since that was before I even thought of going to library school. I stowed that information away somewhere, I think, and dimly remembered it when a friend sent me the Wired article about Jessamyn West. I know I saw the early announcements for Radical Reference through some lefty discussion list in the late summer of 2004, just as I was starting library school.

I can’t quite figure out just how I got into this reading blogs business, but I do know that three years ago today I decided to plonk my marbles down into the virtual dirt circle that is the blogosphere, and I started a little blog called lis.dom.

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