In 2017, I presented the following speech to the Wallowa County Rotary Club. Yes, that Rotary. Almost two years later, it holds up very well. Moving here and taking this job was the best decision I ever made.
“Shannon McNerney tells us what we don’t already know about her…”
Well, not quite. I prefer to leave a little bit of mystery in the air. I find that makes me seem more interesting somehow. So instead, I’m going to take some inspiration from Fishtrap and tell you a story. Sit back and listen. There may be a test at the end.
When I think about what brought to me to this place and this time, it feels like it came in big chunks, chapters.
Chapter 1: The kid years.
This part will stay mostly mysterious for now, largely because listening to me talk about my childhood borders on therapy, and is mainly interesting to those who like hearing about other people’s dreams. There are a few relevant details, however. It was during my childhood that I was introduced to my three life-long loves, in chronological order:
Things with four legs and fur, primarily horses and dogs, although cats and goats were cool, too.
Books. My second home, really. First it was Little Women, Heidi, and The Little House Books. Black Beauty, and Where the Red Fern Grows & Walt Morey. Then I moved on to biographies, Judy Blume. C.S. Lewis, and Tolkien. By the time I was a teenager, I was a card-carrying bonafide book worm.
Music. Oh my. Beethoven, Brahms, the Beach Boys, the Beatles, Rogers and Hammerstein, The Police, Simon and Garfunkel, Marilyn Horne and Beverly Sills, Barbra Streisand and Wham. Earth, Wind & Fire, Elgar, Godspell, Hair, and Sweeney Todd. Yeah, I was a strange kid. Music saved me, kept me company. I still remember getting my first real stereo when I turned 10. Double digits and 33 1/3 rpm.
Remember this list. It underlies everything I do for the next (ahem) years
Chapter 2: Learning to take risks.
I was a lucky kid. A mix of genetics, exposure to lots of music as a kid, and great teachers gave me opportunities to play in orchestras, sing in choirs, and eventually, to get a scholarship to study music at the U of O. For Five years I studied voice, and then decided maybe I was more of a teacher than a performer. I played flute when I got to school, but took on other instruments over the next few years, including trumpet, percussion, and an unfortunate encounter with a bassoon. I graduated with a double major in voice performance and instrumental education. Essentially, I was a credentialed singing band director. Every parent’s dream.
My first years out of college were awkward. I loved music and people paid me to sing and teach, but I never loved being a musician. I taught for a while. I liked kids, but was luke-warm on the littlest ones. To be honest they scared me. Horses were easier. And I really didn’t like parents. I mean, mine were mostly ok, but my students’ parents were often difficult. I was 24. Why in the world wouldn’t they listen to me!
After 4 years of classroom and studio teaching, I was done. Caput. I walked out of a teaching job in October, left my classroom keys in the principal’s inbox, and left. Very dramatic. (The story behind this is complicated, painful, and a little entertaining. More mystery.)
But there was a hard-won lesson to this time in my life. Sometimes leaving is a good thing. Following my gut. Listening to my instincts. The decision to go against my inner voice and agree to come back for my fourth teaching year despite all the alarm bells going off made this transition much more difficult.
And yet… it eventually launched a new career.
In 1997, I joined the staff of OCP at about the lowest entry point possible, marketing project assistant. I didn’t know anything about publishing, marketing, or being an assistant. I worked for a documented micro-manager, and although you don’t know me well, I’m sure you can imagine how well that worked out. In a year I’d had it. I was ready to walk again.
But… there was this other job in the company. A new challenge. A supervisor who was ready to take a chance because she saw something in me. I became an apprentice Music Engraver (typesetter). Three years later when my manager retired, I was running the department.
These were heady times. During my 13 years at OCP I was promoted 7 times, had eight job titles, and worked in three different divisions. I learned to listen. To be mentored. To try new things because someone thought I might be good at it, sometimes even because I thought I might be good at it. I learned to pay attention, to walk towards opportunity. And eventually, to mentor others.
I was introduced to the concept of Servant Leadership which changed my professional life. I learned about why mission was center to everything. I learned that the way to lead a team was to serve the people you are fortunate enough to work with. To clear their obstacles. To give them new opportunities. To recognize that you have something to learn from every one you meet.
When I finally left in 2010, I was an actual executive making a real salary traveling around the country and living the life everyone wanted for me. And I was fried.
Which leads me to…
Chapter 3: Sometimes you leap and you can’t see the ground.
So here’s where things start to get a little jumbled. For the first time in my professional life, I was following my gut, and my gut led me to a time of chaos.
It started out innocuously enough… company management and strategic changes that didn’t feel quite right. “There’s no mission without money.” Being asked to take yet one more leap into a job that really wasn’t a good fit. Staff that needed more than I knew how to give. Then I stopped caring about the mission. Sunday night dreads started on Thursdays. Weekends were never long enough. Vacations stopped working.
Yet I was doing good work. I was leading. I was respected. And I was very unhappy.
One day, I found myself standing on a street corner yelling at a pregnant woman. Not my best day. (again, a really interesting story… ) and I knew I was done. I gave notice and left 6 months later.
And then? Fear. Serious nail-biting, can’t sleep at night, monsters under the bed fear. I didn’t have a job. It was 2010. Remember 2010? Not a great time to start looking for one.
Chapter 4: Failure is an option.
I had already proven to myself that I could take risks in a safe place. Now the stakes were higher. But I had a great support network of friends, family, and colleagues who were willing to help. I in no way got through this alone. Over the next two years I worked as a consultant at OPB, started my own strategic marketing and consulting business, built websites, planned fundraising events for local schools and nonprofits, and said yes to just about every opportunity that came my way.
And I failed. A lot. I tried things I wasn’t good at, and eventually learned to say no. I struggled with managing multiple clients, and almost lost my house when the market plunged. To say money was tight is a drastic understatement.
So I took on a part-time job. Something to provide steady income in between clients.
Here’s a piece of advice for free. If someone asks you to take on a leadership role with a nonprofit and says that it’s part time, know that they’re lying. There’s no such thing. I’ve called the three years I spent with the Portland Symphonic Choir a paid internship in how to be an Executive Director. This short time in my professional life was at times the hardest and most rewarding of my career. I was stepping into an organization on the edge of financial ruin. But it was also one with a long history in the city. Tom McCall once worked for the Choir. I still remember the first time I stood on the stage at the ASCH with the 120 member choir and the Oregon Symphony behind me, speaking to an audience of 1200. It’s the most scared and excited I’ve ever been. For a kid who grew up in love with music, this was a highlight.
But after three years, I knew I’d done all I could for the choir. I started to feel that “I don’t care about the mission” feeling again. This time I wasn’t going to wait until I found another pregnant woman or puppy to scream at. It was time to look for another gig.
And I was going to wait to leave until I found it. See, I can learn!
Chapter 5: Fishtrapped
July of 2015 was my three-year anniversary at the Choir. It was also the first time I saw a job posting for the Executive Director at Fishtrap pop up in my news feed. I’ve already told most of you how I first became infatuated with Wallowa County around 2001. Moving here always seemed more of a dream than a possibility. But a job with people who love words, who write books? Seriously?
My closest friends and family all swear that the first time I told them about the job they knew I was gone. It seemed like this was the place I was heading all along. To end the suspense, I got the job. And I found a new love.
Chapter 6: What’s next?
Fishtrap’s mission to “promote clear thinking and good writing in and about the west” is as good as any I’ve seen. I’ve taken it on as a constant challenge to all of us who work in, with, and love this organization to make sure we keep relevant. And recently, it seems especially relevant to help build a community that values critical thinking, constant learning, and good writing.
Where is that going? Making sure we offer the local community the most wide-spread and locally focused programming. Including the community and schools with the planning.
The theme for this year’s Summer Fishtrap is Roots & Branches. A perfect phrase for how we’re looking at all of Fishtrap’s programs. Taking the best of the past, the lessons learned, the failures and the successes to inform and grow the next generation of programming.
Expanded and focused youth programs designed collaboratively with the schools
Including the community with the Big Read book selections.
Bringing back Winter Fishtrap with local community as the focus
Regular writing workshops
Senior programming
And honoring the program that started it all.
It’s Summer Fishtrap’s 30th birthday. It’s been a lot of fun planning this event and seeing the excitement build. We’re 90% sold, 56% new to SFG. That bodes well for a bright future. I invite all of you to come to Wallowa Lake Camp this summer and celebrate with us.
I can talk about how much I love Fishtrap for another hour. Try me. I work with a caring, smart, dedicated staff, a passionate board, and yeah… you all know that. What you don’t know is that I love going to work (almost) every day. I work with musicians who love books, and writers who love music, and I’m reading, writing, and even singing again. And sometimes I even bring my dogs to work. It’s almost too good to be true. That’s the personal stuff.