the man

so my job is simultaneously the best thing that ever happened to me and the most frustrating and debilitating curse of my life.

as liam so eloquently put it last night "your job promises to be ultimately rewarding yet at every turn you meet with prejudice and difficulty. you pour your soul into it and are still continually trodden on". well, something to that effect. I was too busy tearing up at his ranting on my behalf after the past week.

We launched the programme you see.

And it was fantastic. Terrifying and weird, and full of fancy receptions and press conferences and I was even on tv! And had to have my portrait taken for the papers and lots of ritzy things. But it doesn't mean it's easy or fun or even effective.

I guess what sums it up best is the features editor (not the children's supplemental, not the books editor) from the national newspaper came up to me after my 5 minute rant about the importance of childrens literature and our seminal position as a valuable experience for young readers and said "I'm X from Y. Normally we don't cover the children's programme but do you mind if I ask you a few questions?".

And yes, it's wonderful we'll finally get coverage. Yes, it's fantastic one person heard and believed me. But I can't fight this war one ignorant journalist at a time. And I shouldn't have to.

And now, my baby, our programme, you can download a copy from the website, but therein lies the problem.

For all the work, and all pride I have in pouring my heart and soul into the damn thing, I still hate it sometimes.

It's hideous. It's ineffective. It's a hopeless document meant to inform the few and ignore if not completely shut out everyone else. And for a job that I truly believe is about sharing stories, loving literature and helping young minds grow, I constantly am disappointed and appalled at the snobbish, shallow litterati and their ignorance and dismissal of anything but the alan bennets and joyce carol oates of the world.

not that their work isn't magnificent. but it is not the only work that matters. or if it is, then just admit this is a middle class british institution to celebrate itself and don't pretend we are openminded and encouraing new audiences and believe in the power of words to unite people.

because you use my truth as a lie and it is slowly killing me.