this is not goodbye: thoughts on leaving lit cleveland

Last night, I attended my final event as executive director of Lit Cleveland, our annual holiday mixer at CLE Urban Winery (click on the image to the left to watch the video). Of course, as soon as we'd set the date I learned from a fellow board member whose kids attend the same school as mine, Campus International School in Cleveland, that our winter concert was the same night. After a series of emails to board members, as well as assigning new executive director Christine Howey her first task of "hauling shit," as she memorably put it, I delegated the event setup (something I normally would have done with volunteers) to them. Man, that felt good. And a perfect hand-off, in a way. Not that the job involves hauling a lot of shit ... well, yeah, it kinda does. OK, I guess it's actually the perfect metaphor for transitioning, since being director entails logistical behind-the-scenes magic-making to create events and programs (AKA "hauling shit").

I spent the night catching up with old friends, receiving compliments, and generally trying to avoid doing any work or talking shop. It was nice to see so many people (the room was full with about 60 people) and know that my work had made a difference in the community. Board member Aaron Schmidt stood on a chair (we also lacked a sound system) and feted my work over the past four years, and then I stood on the same chair and talked about what it's meant to me to help start a now-successful literary arts nonprofit in Cleveland and thanked everyone for their support. As I told folks at the event, I feel lucky to have been the vessel (wait, that sounds too religious -- vehicle? beast of burden? jalopy?) that has helped start and grow this community-supported organization. Now, others will help bring Lit Cleveland to the next level.

I have a feeling I'll write more about this later, but here are five takeaways I'd like to share about being a nonprofit executive director.

• To be successful as an ED, you have to not only understand the vision but also execute it as well. That's a cliche, but here's the point -- it's largely tactical. If I ever thought I'd spend my days dreaming up grand new program concepts or writing (and I didn't think that) I would have been disillusioned. I designed programs, yes, but that meant answering emails, fixing printers, updating databases, sending newsletters etc. In short, you don't know the true extent of "hauling shit" until you're knee deep in it. None of this is bad, and my previous nonprofit work helped prepare me for it. LOL!
• Working with a board is hard. Our board is great overall, it's the structure that's challenging. Imagine your desk is in the middle of a circular glass-walled room. Board members -- essentially strangers, since you don't necessarily interact with them on a daily basis -- come by and watch you work without really knowing what you're doing. Every couple months they offer you a bunch of pithy strategic thoughts and random bits of advice and then go away again. The good ones (which, to be clear, is most) attend committee meetings and pay attention to details. You have to translate their ideas into action. Once a year they also, supposedly, evaluate your performance. The trick is providing them enough information to do their jobs -- governance -- while gaining their support when you need it.
  
• Being self-motivated is critical. When board members go away, which they will because they have jobs, families and other responsibilities, doing the work requires not only a large amount of day-to-day decision making but also clear end goals. What does the organization want to accomplish? What do you personally want to accomplish? It can be lonely, frustrating and tough. I've had mountaintop moments and times when I thought, is this task ever going to end? I just want to get on the floor and play blocks with my kid. Again, the work is very satisfying but there's something kind of monastic about it -- and sometimes you just want to join the party and have a friggin' drink, instead of manning the registration desk.
  
• It's not a job, it's a marriage. This is something former PWLGC/The Lit director Darlene Montonaro said to me, and it's so true. I woke up and went to bed thinking about Lit Cleveland. When mistakes happened, they kept me up. When there were board issues I couldn't let them go. I can't complain because I also finished two poetry books in my off-hours while working as ED, but when the work began crowding out creative ideas then I knew I had to go. It's a weird combo of watching your baby walk for the first time and then feeling depressed that all you seem to do is exist to take care of it. As it grows it gets easier because you have more support, but harder because there's more to administer.
  
• If you want to be the person in the front of the room, either teaching, reading or performing, don't be ED. I'm not saying artists can't run nonprofits. There are cases where they figure it out. But I would argue that the most successful and long-lasting ED's are probably not full-time artists. Their primary desire is to work with the community to help build a successful organization, not write and publish and sell books. Although it's a much harder financial path to sustain yourself, it's what I want to do and I'm going to continue to pursue it (now with more time on my hands). I'm fortunate to have wonderful support from a fantastic partner, Katherine, and also a great family that helps sustain me.
  

One of my memories from last night's event were all the people who came up to me and said, we'll still see you next year, right?  It's satisfying to know that there's still a place for me here, if nothing else as a teacher. Next year, I'm looking forward to finding more balance in my life, helping with Lit CLE, and cheering on the next executive director. Onward!

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