Please give a brief background on yourself and your career.
It seems so strange to be old enough to have a career! I work in publishing, at a literary agency in New York. After graduating from Wellesley in 2011, I worked at the Davis Museum, where I worked on several exhibitions and catalogues. The Davis was such a special experience—my degree at Wellesley combined literature, social culture, and art history, and museum work afforded me the opportunity to combine these elements. From the Davis I went to complete my MPhil in Criticism & Culture at Pembroke College, Cambridge. This was a defining year in many respects, as the program allowed me to think broadly and boldly about the humanities, while also thriving in a collaborative and genial college environment. Cambridge—both the city and the University—has a mysticism and gravity to it that the United States just cannot quite replicate; something about the age and the tradition of the place that lends weight to its intractable tradition. It was, however, a great joy when I was catapulted back stateside after graduation, joining The Wylie Agency.
How has your career changed since you originally envisioned it at Wellesley? What other careers did you consider as a student?
I’ve always been someone who wanted to do everything and anything, as long as it required me to read and write. And to think. Originally I was convinced I would to go into academia—a conviction that lead me to Cambridge—but while there, I found myself fascinated by everyone else’s work as much as, if not more than, my own. It helped me appreciate that one can think and read and write broadly outside of the education system. During college, I had interned at Kneerim, Williams, & Bloom and loved watching a manuscript transform into a book—with extensive editorial and production handiwork. When the opportunity rose to join an agency after graduating from Cambridge, I was thrilled.
How has Wellesley contributed to your career?
Wellesley’s impact really cannot be overstated, more so in the intangibles than the concrete aspects. Of course everyone grasps the intensity and rigor of the academic programs, and they were spectacular and crucial to my intellectual formation. Without that underpinning I would not have been able to go to Cambridge, which led me to where I am now. Having said this, the parts of Wellesley that made the biggest difference were the connections I made, both with other students and professors. My time working at the Art Library was crucial—I spent my summers there and really cannot thank that department enough for both employing me for much of my adult life, and for allowing me to interact and work with some formidable minds, people who became my mentors and friends (and de facto therapists during dissertation meltdowns). Ideas can begin in the classroom, but they can also grow when you’re chatting with the person at work next to you, or during a department event, or really anywhere. Wellesley fostered that type of community.
What is a typical work day or work week like for you?
Well, it has taken me far too long to complete this posting, so it is quite a long week (and reading/writing on weekends). Generally, I get into work around 8:45/9 am (as I’m writing this, it is 7:30 AM on the MTA—morning meeting) and leave around 7:30 or 8 at night. Literary agents and assistants function primarily as the mediators between authors and publishing houses, so our work swings between working with authors on their manuscripts/ideas, schedules, speaking engagements, and taxes; and securing information on contracts, payments, royalty information, art direction, books, and publicity from the publishers. There are many, many emails and phone calls; most of your reading is done on the train or at night/on the weekend. And reading is really crucial, not only of one’s own authors, but also of the writers, bloggers, journalists, and academics that currently make up today’s literary landscape. I try and read something older with every contemporary book I take on; right now I’m reading both Karl Ove Knausgård and Anthony Trollope (The Way We Live Now) which, I’m finding, may have been a poor pairing.
What piece of advice would you offer students looking to get into your area of interest and expertise?
Read everything. I’m not kidding. Read literature you love and books that you hate, and be able to form and express your opinions cogently. Apply for internships early and often, but don’t expect them to be exclusively reading elite literature; they call it a “slush pile” for a reason. Yet nothing is more valued than someone who knows how to format a cover letter correctly or file contracts precisely. Administrative work is and always will be part of the job, but that ensures that the process of creating a book runs smoothly. And publishing—I cannot stress this enough—is not a job, so much as it is a vocation. It is a calling, and it is something to which you devote yourself wholeheartedly. This is never going to be a job you can leave at home in a 9 to 5 box; nor, with all honesty, should it be.
What do you wish you had known as a student?
You are not supposed to know what you want to do when you graduate. Some people do—most people say they do, but are too terrified of the unknown to admit it. There are a lot of ideas of what publishing or academia or any job should look like; take time to find out what they actually look like, and whether or not that is compatible with what you want to be doing. Very few people emerge from Wellesley as a fully formed Hillary Clinton and that’s okay. Wellesley is the beginning of the journey, not the culmination of it.
If you could come back and take one class at Wellesley what would it be?
Hm. Either Art History Methods, or a creative writing course. No—wait: the Economics course (ECON 223? Maybe?) that teaches you the fundamentals of personal finance. Which I suppose leads to another piece of advice for those wanting to get into publishing: get ready for New York prices.