By Lisa Schievelbein
Tuesday, April 27, 2010: 11:57 p.m.
The cursor blinks on a blank Word doc. I’m in my pajamas (note: *not* a onesie) on the couch, zonked from 14 high-adrenaline hours in the office, and trying to think of something good to blog about. And just like that, I have what any reasonable person might consider an epiphany. In this moment, the only words that will do are these:
“Hi, my name is Lisa, and I’m a communicator.”
[Anyone who feels comfortable is welcome to respond with a little “Hi, Lisa.”]
At the risk of being too revelatory (but we’re in a safe space, yes?), I’ll just say it. I love to write. I need to write. In fact, I tend to forget to eat when I’m in a really good writing groove. And as a CEC researcher, I make much of my living by writing about…well…writing. (This is not unlike a diabetic owning a candy shop.)
So, here’s my conflict. Right now, I could make extremely quick work of this blog post. I could share some verbatim comments from a member conversation thread on CEC Discussions. I could link to a Wide Angle post about a very cool social media webinar that MLC is hosting next week. (By the way, CEC members, you’re invited.) Hell, I could shoot fish in a barrel blindfolded by inviting PowerPoint haters to comment on this interesting NYT piece.
But I don’t want to. I want to write something new, fresh, clever, and ALL BY ME. There, I said it.
I trust this strikes a chord with many of you, my fellow night-owl writers. But there’s a reason why this post has a confessional tone. Writing too much (especially nocturnally) is a bad habit that we both have to break. Read More »


True to my 
I’m supposed to be flying to Copenhagen today to visit some of our Danish CEC members. But in fact as I write this I’m still sitting in my home in Ashburn, Virginia. Ironic. I’m one of the kajillion travelers whose itineraries have been totally ash-burned by the megacloud from the Icelandic volcano Eyjafjallajokull.


