While writing has always been an activity that I’m fond of doing, it’s not one that comes easily to me and I think that’s why I’m sometimes anxious when prompted to put words on paper or, in this case, on an electronic page. For the former, the audience is usually myself or is limited to one other person; for example, the journal notes I take for class, Mass, or my various committees. Consequently, the format and POV of what’s been jotted down may not matter as much since I’m typically the only viewer. In addition, I individualize my writing and compose personalized messages whenever I mail greeting cards to friends and family, which is a fading art itself. In terms of the digital writing that I do, there’s no denying that many more people will read what I choose to email, share, publish, post, or what have you. And with that realization comes a tremendous amount of duty, at least on my part, to not only say the right thing but to say it as well as I can; and there “lies the rub” to quote Hamlet and Shakespeare.
How does someone like me succeed in communicating her innermost thoughts on a subject, but yet hold true to the norm that there are rules for the type of content or opinions that can be included on social media, websites, and the like? Could it be that this specific quandary is the intersection of two divergent paths: the carving out an online space for one’s self and the telling of a story that may or may not be receptive by all?
As a middle school student, I remember one of my teachers commenting that I had a “flair for writing” but though I was flattered by the compliment, it’s still somewhat unfathomable to me. Yes, I recognize the talent that seems to come naturally to writers but wonder if they ever agonize over the selection and piecing together of words and ideas as I do? I tend to believe that, for real writers, it’s a much smoother undertaking.
As I’ve gotten more comfortable using words to express myself, I’ve come to the conclusion that the craft of writing is a figurative birth into being, an experience that can be equally painful and gratifying. Although I have never given birth to a human, I’ve imagined a comparison between the carrying of a developing baby within my womb and the nurturing of words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs, etc. inside my mind and heart. For what follows once the child is born or the paper is finished–two authentic creations in their own right–is that I helped make it possible. I gave this precious work of art a temporary home until it could breathe outside my body and hopefully, with care, continue to grow. And in doing so, the living entity that comes forth from this time-consuming achievement and its rightful share of uncomfortableness is one I can celebrate as a great labor of love.
And so it is with the decision to create or better yet, hone an online name for myself, especially when one of the other Kristi Brawleys inhabits the same town as me. In reviewing the recommendations of Posner, Varner, and Croxall1, I agree on the importance of professional visibility. After Googling myself, it was enlightening to see that the first two results in the search were not job-related but were evidence of my involvement at church. And while a prospective employer may appreciate that I am an active Catholic, they may also have concerns as to whether my volunteering has an effect on my work performance. Nevertheless, I was encouraged by the fact that the third Google link in my name and location search was my LinkedIn page, which documents my education and experience as a school librarian. Since I have not updated my profile in a while, one of the simplest changes that I plan to make is the adding of specialties, as Posner et al. advised. Furthermore, it may not be a bad idea for me to update my Google profile so that it indicates more than a current photo and employment description.
Along those same lines, I can defer to Cordell’s guidance2 to young scholars and publish the conference presentations I’ve made or helped co-lead over the years. I’ve already been curating the promotional and professional development-themed newsletters that I have produced for my school library over the years but can be more intentional in what I advertise online beyond my work website. Another best practice in the maintenance of my digital presence is to continue to publicize my work once I’ve made a future career move into archives.
The final suggestion from the “Creating Your Web Presence” article that resonated with me was regarding Twitter activity and “the kind of community [I] want to be a part of.” Even though I started my @KristiBrawley Twitter page for professional reasons and have used it as a platform to tweet about what I’m reading or learning from conference attendance, I shifted gears in 2019 and began posting about my personal priorities as well. Part of the rationale for this choice was that I wanted to be free to periodically share details about myself and beliefs without worrying whether people liked them and if nobody replied, that was fine, too. It’s also why I took a break from my more private Facebook and Instagram accounts and their own addictive qualities.
This brings me back to the ethics of storytelling. Whereas Perry3 contends that academic bloggers should “write whatever you want” and not partake in self-censorship, as I’m prone to do, we also have a responsibility to share the truth in an objective manner no matter how difficult that might be. In designing online museums then, curators, archivists, and digital humanists have a two-fold obligation to virtual visitors. According to Straughan4, “to allow people to access, study and make the most” of museum artifacts, they must first “share those items with as many people” ensuring that online collections are accessible to the public regardless of distance or ability. Secondly, their teams must work to be transparent and to “tell a fully inclusive story” like the Alabama Department of Archives and History (ADAH)5 has recommitted to doing. It’s not enough for archives or museums to only share historical facts, photographs, videos, or interviews in their virtual displays, they must also present “an honest assessment of the past” as the ADAH is seeking to document. For in evaluating the stories of the people, events, movements, or organizations for which they are trying to build exhibits, professionals in the archival and digital humanities field can offer multiple perspectives to their patrons and can even empower viewers and listeners to voice their stories in the process. And to me, that’s the underlying purpose and power of online libraries, museums, and archives: to assist people with their informational needs and to aid them in keeping the conversation going long after the book, exhibit or collection has been closed on the screen.
1 “Creating Your Web Presence: A Primer for Academics (ProfHacker).” 14 Feb. 2011, https://www.chronicle.com/blogs/profhacker/creating-your-web-presence-a-primer-for-academics. Accessed 24 Jan. 2021.
2 “Creating and Maintaining a Professional Presence Online: A Workshop for Graduate Students.” 24 Sep. 2012, https://ryancordell.org/graduate-school/creating-and-maintaining-a-professional-presence-online-a-workshop-for-graduate-students/. Accessed 20 Jan. 2021.
3 “3 Rules of Academic Blogging – The Chronicle of Higher Education.” 11 Nov. 2015, https://www.chronicle.com/article/3-Rules-of-Academic-Blogging/234139. Accessed 20 Jan. 2021.
4 “Is the future of museums online and what might a virtual museum look like?” 17 Jun. 2019, https://www.museumnext.com/article/is-the-future-of-museums-online/. Accessed 20 Jan. 2021.
5 “Statement of Recommitment – Alabama Department of Archives and History.” https://archives.alabama.gov/docs/ADAH_Statement_Recommitment_200623.pdf. Accessed 20 Jan. 2021.
