FCLIP Feedback and advice

Now that have achieved FCLIP, I can pass on some of my hard-earned wisdom (such as it is) on how to avoid all the mistakes that I made and give yourself the best possible chance of getting your portfolio through the assessment board first time (unlike me…)

I have divided this into three areas: portfolio-specific advice, general advice, and advice for CILIP

Portfolio advice

  1. Critical evaluation: It’s not enough to say you’ve done an amazing thing and to provide evidence of it. You need to reflect on what you did, how it went and what you would do differently next time. Repeatedly. On multiple documents: your evaluative statement, your evidence (every single piece of it), the PKSB, your CV, your job description and through your supporting statements. If you’ve done Chartership recently (note I said recently i.e. in the last five years) you will already know this. Forget passive voice. You need to adopt the persona of a charismatic preacher convincing the congregation that you can heal their terminal illnesses simply by laying hands on them.
  2. Supporting letters: The handbook states that you need a minimum of two. Actually, the more letters you can get to prove your case and blow your trumpet on your behalf, the better. This should be explicitly stated in the guidelines. Ask everyone that had anything to do with anything in your portfolio. Those people will say extremely nice things about you. Their words are useful to refer to when you’re on your fifteenth go at doing your evaluative statement and you hate yourself, CILIP, all library workers (even the ones you vaguely like), anyone who already has FCLIP, and you wish you’d become a nail technician/writer/professional Sims player rather than a librarian
  3. Mentor: You need an FCLIP mentor – as in, you need someone that has been through FCLIP themselves, or at the very minimum has a proven track record of getting other people through it. I firmly believe that an MCLIP mentor (even a very experienced one) is NOT sufficiently equipped to know which areas to push in an FCLIP portfolio. I’m a Chartership mentor and I don’t think that I would have had the skills to support someone doing Fellowship before I went through the process myself. Moreover, I think that FCLIP mentors need more extensive training than MCLIP mentors and that they should refresh their training every 2-3 years.
  4. Evidence: You must link it to the PKSB and I mean by putting a paragraph at the top of every single bit of evidence stating explicitly which bits of the PKSB it supports, down to the numbers. So far, so Chartership. Additionally, you need to signpost the assessors and point out PRECISELY why this evidence matters. You also need to elevate the reflection so that it provides clear evidence of higher-level management and leadership thinking.
  5. Language: forget everything you’ve been told about not putting ‘I’ into stuff because there’s no I in team. In your FCLIP portfolio you are the supreme ruler of your realm. You did a thing? Great! You LED that thing. You’re an ADVOCATE! You’re a LEADER! You’re an INFLUENCER!. Modest people DO NOT ACHIEVE FCLIP. Even if you *are* modest by nature you must pretend that you’re an arrogant so-and-so. This is hard but there’s no way round it.

General advice

  1. It’s a selling job. You’re selling yourself and your skills to convince the assessors and the panel that you are worthy of FCLIP. It’s not enough to have done lots of innovative, interesting things. You have to tell them, through your portfolio, in glorious technicolour. Repeatedly. In self-glorifying language. Activate jazz hands, a chorus line and twenty-five tapdancing musical theatre stars WITH CANES AND TOP HATS singing at the very top of their lungs about your greatness.
  2. You need to be confident about your management and leadership skills: You need to demonstrate – repeatedly – that you have high-level management skills. Don’t assume the assessors will be able to read between the lines and see that you’re working at a significantly higher level than a Chartership candidate. You have to tell them repeatedly throughout your portfolio.
  3. It’s lonely: Some candidates set up FCLIP support groups and have find them extremely useful, but I know they wouldn’t work for me because they would enhance my already heightened feelings of inadequacy. Everyone I’ve spoken to has gone through a really difficult time with it and it does feel like you’re trying to navigate without a map. If you can’t face being part of an FCLIP group, perhaps buddy up with someone who already has already achieved Fellowship but isn’t your mentor, or with someone going through Chartership. Even if you just end up sending each other Gavin and Stacey gifs on Twitter.
  4. It’s emotional: someone said that to me early on and I was surprised. However, reflecting on your career and your journey pushes certain buttons. It forces you to go back and explore complicated unresolved feelings about projects that went wrong, significant achievements, and the reality of day-to-day working life over a period of time. It also reminds you of things that you’ve done that you completely forgot about. It’s an odd sort of professional therapy.
  5. You have to want it: I had two drivers pushing me towards FCLIP. It’s the last library-related qualification I plan to do, and I wanted to reflect on what I’ve achieved so far in my career and work out my next steps career-wise. I don’t think that I would have contemplated taking it on otherwise. You need your reasons and you need to be able to refer back to them when the going gets tough.
  6. You’re allowed to find it hard: I think it’s very dangerous for anyone to pretend that it’s a smooth process because it prevents others from sharing their fears and worries. FCLIP should not be easy. It’s a significant step up from MCLIP. It feels like you’re trying to free solo El Capitan at times and I worry that the step from one to the other is too high and that the expectations are disproportionate.

Advice for CILIP

All of the above plus:

  1. Mentor or tutor? I think the line is pretty blurred in professional registration and I don’t think it’s entirely helpful. A mentor advises and a tutor teaches. I needed both when I was putting my portfolio together. I’m not convinced that a one-day course or webinar teaches anyone how to support a candidate through FCLIP.
  2. The step (or rather, the sheer climb) between Chartership and Fellowship needs to be made clearer at the outset. The woolly expectations in the handbook don’t indicate how onerous it is in terms of time commitment and sheer mental and emotional effort.
  3. Make the processes and documentation clearer. The handbook is extremely woolly and there should be a separate FCLIP-specific version. There shouldn’t be a whole host of ‘Stuff you aren’t told but are somehow supposed to know’ hidden away. It’s not supposed to be a treasure hunt.

Achieving FCLIP and what it means

Last week I got the email telling me that I have achieved Fellowship from CILIP. Anyone that knows me even a tiny bit via this blog, the Librarians with Lives podcast, Twitter or in real-life will know that it has been a journey for me to get to this point.

It feels like another lifetime now but less than three years ago I was so unwell that I couldn’t write an email or read text longer than a page. My short-term memory was non-existent and I often felt frightened and overwhelmed. When I returned to work full-time in January 2017 after a lengthy phased return I didn’t imagine for a second that I would take on something like Fellowship. I registered for FCLIP in February 2017. On reflection it was too soon after my illness but I felt that I needed a long-term goal to focus on beyond being able to get up in the morning and function effectively.

I have written extensively elsewhere on the process I’ve been through, so I won’t repeat that here. When I opened the congratulatory email I did a little whoop and then felt oddly calm. I had expected to be running around with joy (that came later) or maybe even have a good cry. It turns out that I’ve shed enough tears over the last few months. I told my family and friends first, then put the word out on social media. I’ve had so many lovely messages. On Monday I took treats into work and wrote a brief email outlining why, with a brief explanation of 1. CILIP and 2. Fellowship. Again, the congratulatory messages have been overwhelming and it’s nice to be appreciated.

The feedback from the Professional Registration Assessment Board on my FCLIP portfolio was as follows:

“Congratulations on achieving Fellowship. Having created a successful service you have been looking outward and involving the wider sector in being customers of the service. Your learning and development is clear at both a strategic and managerial level and is reflected in your successes reflected in the comments from the organisational leads’ supporting statements. The work you have done with Librarians with Lives and the number of “lives” it has touched is considerable. A growing and global community is emerging which is testament to your efforts”.

Ultimately, achieving FCLIP doesn’t really change anything. It’s more letters after my name (cheers to the person I know IRL who said I needed to do a PhD next to complete the set. NO. I mean, really. No.) It’s something to add to my CV. It demonstrates my commitment to continuing professional development. It will make me a better Chartership mentor. I’m now part of a fairly small group of people who can describe themselves as a Fellow. In 2016 I didn’t want to do my job any more. I didn’t want to be a librarian. I didn’t think I was worth saving. Achieving FCLIP has given me a forcible reminder that I have made something of a difference to my organisation and the wider profession.

When I submitted my FCLIP portfolio it felt like the end of an era. I had reflected extensively on my achievements over the last ten years, particularly building a library and information service for social workers from scratch and making it successful and sustainable. Achieving Fellowship is the culmination of a decade of work and I’m now ready for a new challenge.

 

The notion of ‘Fine’ and professional confidence

I submitted the second version of my Fellowship Portfolio last week, less than two months after the first attempt was rejected. I cannot thank Kate Robinson enough for everything she’s done for me. Short of picking me up and carrying me (which she pretty much did in a virtual sense), she’s the reason that I felt able to press the submit button again.

There was some reaction to my previous post on professional failure. I have been contacted by a few people who were a little…concerned. I was keen to reassure everyone that I was fine and that things were moving forward again. I mean, there was the day that I and went and sat in a toilet cubicle at work and couldn’t face unlocking the door and going back out again because everything felt too difficult. There was the day of the terrible job interview, where even before I went into the interview itself I was told by the person giving me the library tour that I really, really didn’t want to work there (talk about putting you off your stride; I hope they did it for the right reasons) and I walked out afterwards thinking ‘Please don’t give me the job’ (They didn’t.) There was the day where I ran a marathon without meaning to. I listened to I’m Still Standing by Elton John and Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce (Homecoming live version) repeatedly. Other than that, all fine. Nothing to see here.

Kate kept saying to me: ‘Why aren’t you showing off about everything you’ve achieved?’ I honestly thought I *had*. I won an award in 2017 and when I went to accept it the Director of the organisation presenting me with the certificate said ‘Jo is so unassuming but she does all of this amazing work’ and I thought ‘No, I’m such a show off really’. Or all the times I assume that people who I’ve met previously won’t remember me and when they do I feel like an idiot (one doesn’t like to assume…)

My immediate family are kind, humble, quiet, hard-working people. They’re not given to boasty posts on social media. They quietly accumulated qualifications but don’t discuss them. I don’t know what my Dad’s golf handicap is (I have asked, he doesn’t tell) and I didn’t know until recently that he once ran a sub-three-hour marathon. My sister got a significant accolade last year, but she asked us not to talk about it anywhere.

According to my children you’re now allowed – no, expected – to show off about your achievements to your peers. When I was at school it was incredibly uncool to be clever and social death to show off about it. Once you were labelled a ‘Boff’ (short for Boffin – a 90s Bedfordshire term?), it was game over for your credibility. I learned to play everything down. To make myself invisible. To not put my hand up when I knew the answer. I stopped taking up space. I turned self-deprecation into an art form as a survival mechanism.

At university and until my mid-twenties I became a bit of an arrogant sod. I’d learned to combine my clever academic stuff with the ability to dance until 3am in a sweaty nightclub and be the ringleader of the social gang in my part-time job. I achieved a promotion in my second library job with the caveat that I had to promise not to be as arrogant as I had been in the interview (I didn’t think I’d get it, so I went in like an absolute baller with nothing to lose.)

Having children really dicked with my professional confidence. There was the sense that I was lucky to have a job, that I didn’t deserve to achieve anything, that I should concentrate on the babies and stop having notions about ambition. Some of that came from within but there were some external forces at work too. It comes to something when, after all of this, you’re on the receiving end of a lengthy pep-talk from one of your children telling you to show off more, be brave, do the scary things and tell everyone what you’ve done and why it’s important. Essentially, everything I’ve said to her over the course of her life. Turns out that your children actually do listen to what you say after all…

There’s a disconnect between how I feel internally (I’m bloody excellent, obviously) and how I project myself on paper and in person (depending on the context, of course.) I’m now at a point where, professionally, I need to change that if I want to move forwards. I had to swallow quite a lot of awkward feelings when I re-wrote my FCLIP evaluative statement because it felt utterly alien to be writing about myself in such as self-aggrandizing way. I can big-up my library and my team and my colleagues until the end of time, but I simply can’t do it about myself with any conviction.

Once I’d pressed the Submit button on version 2 I felt curiously flat and oddly ambivalent about the whole thing. I maintain that the real achievement was pulling together a portfolio in the first place (even though version 1 was crap) so I don’t know how I feel this time. At some point (if/when I pass) I’ll write a constructive post full of advice to FCLIP candidates, but I don’t have it in me right now. I have picked a few CPD things up again: LwL is back next week, Mike and I are pulling together our workshop for the conference, and I want to reconnect with the wider profession in a fun way via LwL @ #cilipconf19. I don’t really know what’s next, but I’m already looking for the next mountain to climb.

Failure and first-world professional grief

As predicted previously, I found out at the beginning of April that my first attempt at Fellowship failed. I didn’t, however, anticipate how much it would hurt.

  1. The feedback said that I was working at the appropriate level to achieve FCLIP status BUT my portfolio didn’t reflect that. In effect, I’d gone into the exam and written everything I knew but didn’t answer the questions properly.
  2. My evaluative statement (of the three sections, only Organisational Context – the one that everyone else seems to find most difficult – was good enough) went through five versions, plus tweaks, before I submitted my portfolio. I now know that every single one of those versions was wrong. I can forgive version 1 as it was the first attempt, designed to loosen my mental block about Fellowship. However, I spent five months – hours and hours of time and effort – writing, refining and re-writing an evaluative statement that was doomed to fail.
  3. I’m at a crossroads in my career. After 10 years in my current role I’m ready to move on (I’m not spilling secrets here; they know) and I still have to write Fellowship (ongoing) on my CV.

When I was told that my submission had failed I cried. For an hour. I was given a packet of ten tissues. At the end of the hour there was one tissue left. I wasn’t just crying about Fellowship. I cried because I’ve worked so flipping hard over the last ten years, often at personal cost. I cried because my children will be going to secondary school in September. I cried because I need something to work out without having to take the hardest road possible and show how bloody resilient I am. Again. I cried because, well, I’m a bit of a dick really.

I’ve been through several stages of…first-world grief…I suppose. I was sad. Angry. ‘Sod it I’ll become a nail technician’. Furious. ‘I’m a failure at all things and I wish I could do one thing well’. Resigned. ‘I am hopeless and unemployable’. Tired. Determined. ‘I need to get over this, pick myself up, and go again’. World weary. ‘I’m shit at running/librarianing/all the things just like I’m shit at everything else’. Self-defeating. Full-on drama llama. ‘Why do I do this to myself?’ I have been advised against appealing the decision because it won’t change and I can’t see the point.

(I have extensive feedback for CILIP on the whole Fellowship process, which I’ll submit via the proper channels and might blog here about it at some stage. It *shouldn’t* be such an onerous, you-need-to-know-stuff-you-aren’t-told-in-the-handbook slog.)

At no point have I really, seriously, thought about not resubmitting my portfolio. The phrase ‘You are working at the appropriate level for Fellowship’ from the feedback has stayed with me. I have started doing the things I need for version 2.0.

  1. Mentor – I have a new mentor (Kate R) and I have a feeling she simply won’t allow me to fail second time.
  2. Supporting letters – The guidelines state that you need a minimum of two supporting letters. I now have eight (cheers Mike, Natasha, Sally, Anthony, Matt and Val, plus the original two I submitted first time.)
  3. PKSB – I had a Skype chat with Juanita and my rage resurfaced – not at Juanita; she’s amazing – but at how wrong I’d got the evaluative statement, particularly the Personal Performance section [side note: this is going to make me a shit-hot Chartership mentor]
  4. Pulling my old portfolio apart and putting it back together again. I couldn’t face even logging on to the VLE to start with because I knew how painful it would be. It was awful, especially now I know what I need to do with it (set fire to the original; start again.)

I’m now working on version 2.0 of my evaluative statement and portfolio, with all the new advice and support fresh in my mind. The ingredients are there; I just need to put them back together in the correct order. Failing Fellowship first time hurts, but it’s not the end of my professional world.

At some point this year (with a little help from my #LibraryFriends) I’ll be able to write FCLIP (achieved 2019) on my CV.

FCLIP – it’s all about the process, not the outcome

I have – finally – submitted my CILIP Fellowship portfolio. I want to celebrate the effort I have put in to writing, pulling together and submitting the portfolio, rather than the achievement itself (if/when it comes.)

I did Chartership in 2007 when you had to submit three printed folders. Guided by my wonderful mentor Allison I wrote the portfolio when I was seven months pregnant with my twin girls. I don’t remember it being an onerous process: I gathered evidence, put together a statement, pulled the portfolios together and posted the cumbersome package off to CILIP. I found out I’d achieved Chartership when my twins were a month old.

As revalidation is optional I didn’t bother doing it until 2016. I *meant* to do it every year but I was distracted by, variously: parenting small twins, building and running a library, having an early mid-life crisis and re-training to be a sport psychologist, dealing with health issues, wider family crises, bereavements and, finally, being ill.

By the time I got around to revalidating everything was done on the VLE and felt like a bit of a dark art. Part of the process seemed to be figuring out how to use the system, but revalidation itself was straightforward. I updated the CPD log, put together my statement, and submitted. I revalidated on three successive occasions. The easiest Revalidation I did was the year I was off work for a significant period.

I registered for Fellowship in February 2017. I’d let go of my professional networks when I was unwell and felt disconnected. I won a bursary to attend the CILIP Conference in Manchester. During the drinks reception I got chatting to Juanita and Jo from CILIP. They were both really encouraging and as she had successfully navigated the process recently, Juanita was able to offer lots of advice. She gave me a list of things that I could do, including completing the initial PKSB which I duly did.

I decided to record some interviews with library workers from other sectors to include in my – at this stage mythical – FCLIP portfolio as evidence of wider professional involvement, which became the Librarians with Lives podcast. I whinged about FCLIP. Barbara Band contacted me on Twitter and offered to be my mentor. Using the PKSB I created an incredibly detailed and highly pointless spreadsheet matching the areas for development with things I was doing/had done. Barbara came to meet me in April 2018, gave me a load of useful advice and I vowed to crack on.

I tried to write the evaluative statement on several occasions but had to deal with the tyranny of the blank page. My friend George offered her assistance. In September 2018 we sat in a café and she typed while I told her stuff. It was mostly her saying ‘You did X. How did you do that?’ and me replying ‘I don’t know. I just did it’ and her sighing and writing something coherent. Several hours later we’d put together version 1 of my evaluative statement. I pulled my portfolio together on the VLE. Barbara came back with a comprehensive list of questions, changes, corrections and suggested amendments.

After that I couldn’t face looking at the portfolio for another two months. In the interim I spoke at seven professional events in six weeks where I riffed on my lack of Fellowship progress. It became a sad joke that my speaker bio always said: ‘Jo is currently working towards CILIP Fellowship’. At CILIPS Autumn Gathering two people – separately – came up to me after my talk, gently asked if I was ok and told me that I didn’t *have* do FCLIP now if I wasn’t feeling well enough. At the HMC Librarians Conference one of the attendees, the wonderful Kate, came up to me after my workshop and asked ‘What’s stopping you pressing the submit button?’ I explained that my portfolio was awful. She kindly said that I could send her the draft evaluative statement and she would offer some advice.

In November 2018 I met with my line manager and asked him to write FCLIP into my workplan. I booked a meeting room, removed all distractions and set to work on version 2 of the portfolio. Kate gave me loads of useful advice: ‘This is too descriptive’ ‘Stop telling the story’ ‘What was the result of this?’ ‘Stop wasting words’. The statement went backwards and forward between us several times. I had a complete break over the Christmas period and decided to tackle it again in January. I went through the changes that Kate had suggested to versions 3 and 4 of the statement and once I was happy I updated the portfolio. Barbara came back with some more suggestions and now my portfolio is worthy of submission.

The evaluative statement is unrecognisable from the version that George and I put together in September. I think two partial sentences have made it all the way from versions 1 to 5. The process of writing the evaluative statement has been complicated by the fact that I tend towards the negative and am harder on myself than anyone else could ever be. I’m also bad at owning work-based achievements so my inclination is to say ‘we’ or depersonalise. Apparently, I’m unusual because I found writing the wider professional context and organisational context sections easier than the personal section. The latter has been subject to the most changes during the five versions of the statement. I’m now ready to let the assessors pull the portfolio apart and give their verdict.

Achieving FCLIP won’t give me anything particularly tangible. I’ll get some extra letters after my name and a nice certificate. My colleagues will get cake. I won’t earn any more money for having it. However, it’s likely to be the last academic endeavour I’ll ever complete. For years I kept going back to academia in a fruitless effort to become the cleverest person in the room. I know now that I don’t need to chase qualifications to prove my worth (to myself) as a person.

Submitting FCLIP also marks the culmination of my ‘comeback’, as it were. In 2016 I was convinced that I was done with librarianship. I couldn’t see how I could ever return to work and be the same as I was before I was ill. I can’t begin to describe how frightening it is to go from being able to write library strategy papers and academic essays to becoming incapable of writing a simple email and then to slowly, slowly recover enough to get myself to a point where I could even contemplate doing Fellowship.

Nothing I do is achieved in isolation. I’m incredibly lucky to be surrounded by amazing people. Glenn and our girls at home for giving me the rounded life I badly need. Matt for being my second brain and the other half of TGLTTWHES. Richard for being the line manager I need (and writing one of the supporting statements for my portfolio), and many other brilliant colleagues at work. Helen, Jo and Juanita at CILIP for kicking it all off. George for helping me write version 1 of the evaluative statement and for tolerating me sending her #FCKFCLIP when she asked me how it was going on Whatsapp. Barbara for taking me on as a mentee and guiding me through the process. Kate for the advice and support. Anyone that’s ever had anything to do with Librarians with Lives. My Library Twitter crowd.

I’m not saying that the outcome is completely irrelevant – I’ll definitely feel down if I fail or if I am asked to make significant changes to the portfolio. However, I think we’re too quick to dismiss the process and focus on the end product. FCLIP has been significantly harder than I ever imagined it would be when I enrolled. At some stage I’ll write something about my opinions on FCLIP itself and I’ll attempt to offer some advice to those thinking of doing, or embarking on the Fellowship journey. For now I’ll just bask in the fact that I have Finally Submitted The Damn Thing.

 

LwL Episode 19: Jo Cornish

In Episode 19 of the Librarians with Lives podcast I chat to Jo Cornish, Development Officer (Employers) at CILIP.

We chat about her previous life in public libraries, managing staff, qualifications, fellowship and baseball.

Links:

The next episode will be released on Tuesday 20th February is a graduate trainee special, featuring Elle Codling, Rhiannon Williams and Hannah Smith.
Happy listening!

LwL Episode 8: Michael Cook

In Episode 8 of the Librarians with Lives podcast I chat to Michael Cook who is a Knowledge & Evidence Specialist. Yes – a health librarian at last! We chat about pilfering books from libraries (not something we wish to encourage),working your way up up in a particular sector, literature searching in health settings (and the crossover with my role), public health initiatives, giving back to the profession, mid-career mini-crises and rediscovering information professional mojo, and the impact of being parents on our respective roles.

If you listen very carefully you’ll hear the *exact* moment that #Libraruns is born. Michael and I have subsequently recorded a side-special on Librarians who run, which will be released in the New Year.

We also discussed @NLPN_ – Helen and Amy from the Network will be the stars of Episode 11 of the podcast which will be released on 21st November. Michael gave Amy her break in health libraries and there’s a lot of connections between this episode and theirs.

We had a lot of fun recording this episode and I hope that comes across. After I stopped recording we got stuck into a very lengthy and highly enjoyable political rant – our views are very similar and definitely not for public broadcast! One of the many joys of doing this podcast is that I get to chat to all kinds of people from all over the place but it’s always lovely to discover that I have things other than libraries in common with my interviewees. Michael blogs here, so if you’re interested in health libraries and fellowship (which I am), it’s worth having a look.
Don’t forget that you can subscribe to the LwL podcast via Soundcloud and iTunes so that you don’t miss an episode.
The next episode will be released on Tuesday 7th November and features Laura Woods. It’s Part 1 of 2, the second of which will be released the following week.
Happy listening!

CILIP Conference 2017: Part 4 -Day 2 sessions

My notes for Day 2 are (mercifully) brief as I was absolutely exhausted (see the Day 1 and lazy networking posts for more details), although a lack of sleep didn’t prevent me from going for a run in the morning.

An insiders guide to professional registration – Kate Robinson & Dan Livesey

I didn’t plan to attend this session as I thought it would be about Chartership and Revalidation and I’ve been there, done that. Juanita set me straight though and there was plenty of advice on Fellowship, too.

I now have a to-do list:

  1. Fill out the PKSB on the VLE (not all of it, just 6-8 sections that are most relevant to me)
  2. Annotate my job description
  3. Annotate my CV
  4. Find a mentor (this still feels insurmountable)

Learning points:

  1. The portfolio doesn’t need to precisely match the PKSB and evidence of change is good
  2. Be really obvious about your journey and how it meets the assessment criteria
  3. Think strategically when evaluating service performance. Don’t be too operational and adopt a high-level mindset
  4. The ‘So what?’ principle: which criteria does a piece of evidence actually match? Learn to be selective and let go of biases about favourite bits of evidence if they don’t fit the criteria
  5. When going on library visits, reflect on your understanding of how they work and how it fits into what they do.
  6. For fellowship, you can draw on a body of work, developed over a number of years.

Information Mismatch workshop – Jonathon Berry & Jane Fox

  • There’s a huge gap in understanding between clinical staff, patients and their families around the language used. This doesn’t surprise me as I’ve seen it in action. It’s very easy to overestimate intelligence (both intellectual and emotional.)
  • SMOG – Simplified Measure of Gobbledegook calculator. Online tool that aims to reduce nonsense and unnecessary wordiness [Won’t be using it on this blog any time soon.]
  • Good quality information requires the following elements: Information production, evidence sources, user understanding, user involvement, quality control, feedback and review

My specialist colleagues use a lot of acronyms (the name of our organisation is an acronym!) and specialist terms at work. As I have a different background to them it took me a while to adjust to the language and terminology used. As a result I try not to use any overtly librariany (I WILL make it an actual word. I will!) terms. It’s one of the reasons that I eschewed a more lofty job title and am simply ‘Librarian’ as it’s a term that everyone understands.

How to be a chief librarian in 15 easy steps – Caroline Brazier

SPOILER: Not 15 steps. Not easy!

I find listening to other people’s career stories incredibly interesting. It was refreshing to hear someone being honest about the fact that career decisions aren’t always made rationally and with a step-by-step plan. This session expanded out and looked at developments at the British Library, so that’s reflected in my notes.

Learning points:

  1. Tell people your career story
  2. Think about your core purpose (as an individual and as an institution.)
  3. Income generation is incredibly difficult and you have to work hard for it (I know this only too well!)
  4. Work out what people value about us and focus on that.

Exhibition

  • I found the exhibition a bit difficult because virtually none of the products are relevant to my library service. I did, however, enjoy chatting to people from the special interest groups and sitting on the faceless duck (long story.)
  • CILIP stand – I wish I’d had my photo taken with the Facts Matter sign on Day 1 as I look exhausted in the photos. I’m going to suggest that next year they take it to the evening reception as I’m much more comfortable with having my photo taken when I’m wearing lipstick and after a glass of wine.

Final thoughts

I was so tired that I was virtually on my knees by the end of the conference. I’d forgotten how intense a professional event over two days can be. I hope it’s evident from my posts that I got a huge amount from attending, both professionally and personally.

My primary aims when I submitted the bursary application were to reconnect with the profession and make a decision on whether to continue with Fellowship. I feel much more embedded now and I’m definitely going to continue my Fellowship journey.

After my Thursday morning run, which took me past Manchester Central Library, I popped into the coffee shop near my hotel for a cold drink. They were playing How Soon is Now by The Smiths and I had two thoughts:

  1. Manchester is amazing
  2. Being an information professional is BRILLIANT.

Well played, CILIP. Well played.

CILIP Conference 2017: Part 3 – The art of lazy networking

To the evening reception! This year’s event was at the Museum of Science and Industry and it was an impressive venue that I spent a nanosecond exploring before I started chatting.

It’s tricky to get networking at conferences right. The received wisdom is that as practically everyone is a stranger you can just go up to anyone and say hi to them. In theory that’s fine, but in practice it feels quite forced. Also, bowling up to someone and saying “HIIII!” in a decidedly tiggerish way really freaks people out. I’ve had some bad networking experiences at conferences that come back to haunt me in the dead of night. Part of the problem is that I try too hard, forgetting that it’s not up to me to make all of the conversational effort. Networking has to be a two-way process.

I have, in the past, encountered a small handful of people who fall into the category of ‘Just a bit rude’. Being socially awkward is completely fine and I get it. I probably understand that more than anyone knows, as I spent a considerable amount of time last year not being able to have meaningful, intelligent conversations with anyone. I generally find that librariany types are nice; we’re used to dealing with people after all, but that some find enthusiasm a bit wearing and I can go into YAY! LIBRARIES! WOOHOO! mode when I feel a conversation isn’t going well.

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It feels much more natural if you chat to the people around you in the lunch queue, or when you sit down at a session. As I don’t drink tea or coffee I don’t get to join the queues for those so it makes networking during the morning and afternoon breaks a bit harder. During the first morning break I felt a bit panicky – completely my own fault as I put an enormous amount of pressure on myself to be outgoing, funny and generally great company AT ALL TIMES and it’s really hard to live up to that. I went for a little walk to calm down and resolved not to be so hard on myself. The rest of the day I networked like a demon and felt much better about it all.

It feels like a bit of a cheat but if you know one or two people really well you can rely on them to act as a social buffer. It also means you can be quite lazy about networking. At the evening reception I decided to calm the heck down and just enjoy it with people that I knew and liked. CILIP had organised a ‘getting to know you’ bingo game which I didn’t take part in myself, but I was able to assist some of the participants with answers to the questions. Later in the evening we were joined by lovely CILIP people and the evening got very interesting.

It’s kind-of difficult to explain my job to people and no-one knows what the acronym for my organisation stands for, so it’s a good talking point. I spent a lot of time chatting to the lovely Juanita about what I do. I sometimes forget what an interesting (and sometimes challenging but always rewarding) job I have. This means that when I am asked about my job, I can go on for absolutely ages. We also spoke about Fellowship, too and she was incredibly supportive. Prior to the conference I was seriously considering giving up on it, but she convinced me otherwise.

As a result of that I’ve made all kinds of interesting connections and some very good things could happen over the next few months. I’ve always felt before that as I run an unusual library, I don’t quite ‘belong’ in CILIP but maybe that’s changing.

Learning points:

  1. Don’t get into such a state about the pressure to network that it becomes overwhelming.
  2. Find ‘your’ people and spend time with them rather than trying to persuade the disinterested that you’re amazing (and making them dislike you more)
  3. If you look like you’re having a good time the fun, interesting people gravitate towards you (or they try to rescue the person you’re with. One of the two.)

Next: Day 2 of the conference. Likely to be very short as I was tired (see above)

 

Guess who’s back? Tell a friend.

Last time on LwL (November 2012!) I said farewell to library CPD and flounced off to study sport psychology. Now LwL is back and so am I. What happened?

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I’m now a mildly qualified sport and exercise psychologist. I really enjoyed studying sport psych and was flying through the course but realised I was far more into the theory behind it than the reality of doing it. I took a break after the ‘taught’ component of the course with the aim of having a year off before starting the dissertation. Then things went really wrong and I was unable to do anything at all.

In the Wilderness Months my brain reset itself and I realised, very slowly, that I was Actually Really Quite Good at being a Librarian. Who knew?  It’s hard to describe how I went from being on the verge of quitting the profession to being *so* enthusiastic that I’m doing Fellowship and rekindling all of my professional associations, including this blog. Taking a break from ‘thinky work’ allowed my brain a chance to calm down and remember who I really was and what I’m actually good at.

I was co-opted onto the ALISS Committee in 2014 (I couldn’t stay away for very long, really) and it was one of very few side-activities I kept up when I was learning about physical activity interventions, team roles and leadership, and declarative memory. I managed to Revalidate twice; in 2016 and earlier this year. Once I’d made the decision to end the sport psych course, Fellowship felt like the natural next step if I was to fully commit to being an information professional.

Then I started to feel a bit stuck again. On a whim I applied for a bursary from CILIP in London to attend this year’s CILIP conference, hoping that it would give me the much needed kick up the backside to crack on with Fellowship and reconnect with my professional peers. I was awarded a full bursary and what happened next is worthy of its own post [TL;DR – it went well] …

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The ethos of LwL hasn’t changed. I still want to share my thoughts on CPD and I also want other people to write guest posts on how to fit professional activities into a busy life and stay connected to the profession without feeling overwhelmed by it.

Most of all, I want to enjoy being part of the community again. It’s going well so far.