While designing my portfolio I really wanted to promote my writing so I chose the Pieria theme because, in the description of the theme, it said it was for displaying text. I wanted the homepage to be simple so then on the blog posts, I could have a lot of creativity with the design. I had a lot of fun reworking my essay about music because adding Spotify links that can play within the blog post made the essay super visual. That paper just worked really well within the blog format because I could also add the quote block to show the song verses.
I liked creating the blog because although it’s supposed to be a place for other people to look at our work and possibly connect with us for a job or career, however, it acts as an archive for myself. I think the website shows the abilities I have as a writer and how I can write about many different subjects well. I chose pieces that demonstrate my academic writing ability, journalism work, and my creative writing. I wanted to show a wide variety of subjects that I am familiar with, such as films, music, and social justice.
I wish I had more time just to play with the website and come up with the best possible way to display my work. The mechanical aspects of the website are what I wish I had more time on. But overall, I think I did a good job of demonstrating the different types of writing I can do and what my plans are for the future.
Intimidation doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt looking at Robert Boyles’s ‘Flower Exercise’ from his book “What Color is Your Parachute?” Besides intimidation, I began with a positive attitude; I wanted this exercise to achieve something. I wanted to be able to unfold myself and benefit from this experience, but it was hard to have to sit there and think about yourself and eventually describe who you are.
A large portion of my alumni profile interview was very helpful and personal to me specifically because I felt like Mary Alice Miller understood the fear of graduating as well. We talked a lot about the plethora of options there are once school is over, and how overwhelming it can be. I’m afraid of missing out or choosing wrong (what could be wrong? Who is judging? Only me, really.) I care about so many different things and concepts. I want to try so much, but it’s hard to narrow down what I’m exactly looking for.
Beginning this exercise, there were a few petals that were easier for me to do such as ‘Geography,’ ‘People’ or who I would like to work with, and ‘Work Conditions.’ I’ve always known that I would thrive in a city; I enjoy the buzz of life. Since I’ve lived in South Carolina my whole life, I’m ok with the idea of moving and expanding my horizons for a job. Petals 3 and 4 were a little tougher for me to do because I felt as if my transferable skills were very limited. Even though we’ve worked throughout this Capstone to give alternative names to the skills that we’ve acquired as English Majors–specifically looking at “You Can Do Anything” by George Anders–however, I still feel like mine are all very academic based and limited.
Either my skills or my experience, I felt, is all limited to the academic field, but what else is there? I have been in school for the past 16 years, so it makes sense that a lot of my projects and activities are centered around school. Or my skills felt random or out of place. I spent three summers in high school as a summer camp counselor at Camp Gravatt in Aiken, SC. Parts of me feel like this time was silly, but realistically I learned so many leadership, organizational, and teamwork skills.
My campers and me, circa 2018
Part of Boyle’s methods for the job search and finding a career for ones’ self is practicing kindness toward yourself. “…feeling helpless is a state of mind that you can change. It starts by recognizing that if anyone has the power to make changes in your life, it is you” (27). Realistically, I have just started my career journey and I am not the perfect candidate right now. I cannot expect myself to be. Reading this book was a reminder that I have to be gentler with myself.
I expected to not have a good time doing petal 7 “Purpose in Life,” but I was pleasantly surprised by this part of the exercise. A large portion of the petal felt very grounding. It was like a reminder of who I am and what I believe in. It was nice to be reminded of the values that I appreciate and look for in life, even if I have a hard time incorporating them into my career. The questions and values Boyles brought up were extremely helpful in centering me and what I want out of life.
Similar to petal 3, petal 4 “Knowledges” made me feel silly, despite it being something I could easily fill out. At times I felt like the things that I know about such as Pop Culture and TV and movies aren’t necessarily transferable skills, but they’re what I love.
I, 2023, work with kids, even though I don’t plan on pursuing a career involving kids.
We talked a lot in my literary publishing class about how working in the book industry is about apprenticing and learning while on the job. Publishing, editing, and writing are some of the last jobs where apprenticeship is extremely important and it’s one of the best ways to learn. A lot of my early career might be waiting and learning. Doing this exercise has shown me I need to have faith in what I know and all my experiences have given me useful skills. This next chapter of my life will be a practice in patience, but I’ll be rewarded with knowledge.
In his book “What Color is Your Parachute,” Richard N. Bolles writes that “storytelling is one of the most powerful techniques you can use in a job interview. Stories are memorable and illuminating…think about stories that illustrate [your] skills, knowledge, and personality traits.” This mirrors advice College of Charleston alumna Mary Alice Miller often gives to clients of her storytelling advisory—thought-leaders, artists, entertainers, politicians, and more who solicit her for collaborations on stage and screen, in print, online, and elsewhere.
“A great story opens up worlds previously unknown even to ourselves,” Miller says from Costa Rica, where she has just worked with a client, the renowned psychotherapist, Esther Perel, on an immersive retreat and the content for Perel’s upcoming live tour. Miller’s next stop is Los Angeles for “A Day of Unreasonable Conversation,” a social impact conference which demonstrates dialogue on the most pressing issues of our time. The invitation-only audience consists of 500 top Hollywood screenwriters, showrunners, and network executives. Miller is the executive director of editorial and programming for the whole event.
Miller entered the College of Charleston in 2008 during America’s worst financial crisis. Against well-meaning advice, she double-majored in English and Fine Arts with three concentrations. She chose extracurriculars that didn’t obviously translate to job prospects but deepened her storytelling skills. She hosted a radio show, became president of the English Club, “Literati,” and worked as a campus tour guide.
Storytelling is an influential skill that many humanities majors have, but as one approaches graduation, the prevailing story we tell ourselves is often one of distress. It can even feel like lying. This is how Miller felt while preparing her commencement speech to the 2012 class. “It was really intense having to hold two truths with equanimity; I’m so proud to be in this position but I also feel unqualified to be telling anyone what to do or how to be right now,” she said.
Filled with doubt, fear, and anticipatory grief, she turned to the English Department for support. Two professors gave feedback on her drafts. Fellow English club members helped her rehearse. “In the afternoon ceremony, the English Department was seated right by me at the podium. So much of being able to give that speech had to do with their support.”
Fresh-faced out of college, Miller began working at Condé Nast for Vanity Fair. “People ask if my job was like ‘The Devil Wears Prada.’ Sometimes it was.” Miller worked on long-form investigative stories, art and design features, cultural and political op-eds, books, conference programming, and special projects such as documentaries and art exhibitions. “I worked there for nearly a decade and received a phenomenal education,” she says, not regretting the decision to forego journalism school. “Magazines are a hard business, even more so now, but I will always love them and the people who make them,” she says.
“The media industry has been undergoing massive transformation and there is no journalist who hasn’t experienced trauma associated with that,” says Miller. “I’m sure that makes it really hard for aspiring journalists. The path has changed but that’s not inherently a bad thing.” Starting in 2018, Miller witnessed six rounds of company-wide layoffs at Condé Nast. “I saw some of the greatest American magazine editors in every department get told to empty their offices by 5 pm; it was brutal,” she says. “I got the call two months into the pandemic, in lockdown, surrounded by death and sirens. It was one of the worst moments of my life.”
The pandemic caused devastating effects on Miller, including the loss of her home. “The security of corporate publishing had been an illusion for a while, but I was forced to wake up to it. And in this waking life, I felt a new and unprecedented autonomy and hope.” She began publishing articles in WIRED and New York Magazine, and could finally say yes to people who reached out asking if she was available to edit their book or produce a podcast together. Some were people she had already worked with, such as the photographer Mark Seliger, with whom she has written two books, a short film, and commercial work. Others were “professional blind dates” set up by friends.
George Anders talks a lot about the power of networking especially within your alumni community in “You Can Do Anything.” “Your greatest allies: thousands of alumni from your college understand what little-known fields are booming, who is hiring, where you can get an interview, and how to get a job” (203). Miller hopes aspiring storytellers who are about to become fellow CofC alumni know they are welcome in her network.
Many people assume that there are limited job opportunities for someone who has a degree in English, or the opportunities are lackluster, but Miller proves this wrong. “I fell ass-backwards into entrepreneurship, much like my parents, who warned me that starting your own business is not an easier path, but it is so worth it.”
Graduating means moving into a cloud of uncertainty. For storytellers, the challenges in modern media–including the impact of artificial intelligence–are enough to make English majors wonder if they chose the right field of study. Whether your fears are technological-based or rooted in insecurity, Miller argues that your abilities can work for you. “A.I. is fantastic for so many things, including quickly gathering information and arranging it in legible sentences, and it is only going to get better. But it is not you. Even trained on your writing, you are the writer. It’s good to cultivate confidence around your style, about the way you talk, about how you create. People need storytellers, every industry needs storytellers, humanity needs storytellers,” she says, driving home that integrity, quality, curiosity, and confidence in your work are your greatest assets.
The graduating class of 2024 should find solace in Miller’s experiences; through uncontrollable circumstances, Miller has made a rockstar life for herself. “Since many of the traditional frameworks have changed so drastically, you may be asking yourself what you’re supposed to do with all these skills,” she says. “Your skills as an English major are applicable to so many industries. Sometimes it just looks like making your own path.”
I remember the first time I was embarrassed by my emotions. It was second grade, and I was crying, because I couldn’t play the recorder correctly in music class. I sobbed and sobbed, getting snot all in the reed, while everyone else played “Hot Cross Buns” with semi-proficiency and I failed, even after the third attempt. It wasn’t that devastating–it’s just a plastic recorder–but I wanted to be good.
I never seemed to grow out of my emotions. Or grow into them, as they always seem too big, too much for me and the people around me. My emotions affected everything I did and surrounded myself with. All I felt was loud and would be felt by everyone around me which became embarrassing and made me more upset. I found solace in books like most introverted, emotional people do. I loved feeling the emotions of a character; stepping into their life and nesting in their brain. As I grew those emotions turned into stubbornness, something I could use.
George Anders’s book “You Can Do Anything” asks you to not limit yourself when thinking about a career path. He has many statistics to prove that you can get a very ‘unconventional’ job with a humanities degree or the plethora of new jobs being created. Anders uses the Hamilton Project to show that in a lifetime, English majors are in the top ten highest earners.
But because there’s so much to choose from as an English major, I don’t exactly know what I want. Sometimes I think to myself, Am I too stubborn to pick a career? Am I afraid of missing out in another field? Everything seems important and impactful and seems like something I could see myself doing. So how do I choose? “Employers start with an unusually elastic sense of what skills and past experience they might want…employers become much more willing to hire on the basis of passion and potential” (Anders, 83). There are times when being emotional is not a good thing to be, but more often than not, it’s one of my greatest strengths.
In my junior year at the College of Charleston, I took a class on significant American film genres-the Western, screwball comedy, and the musical. During this period, I started to wonder about the pirate film (I wanted to know if this subgenre would be considered a type of Western).
I later learned was actually called the Swashbuckler genre and it puzzled me that the only popular pirate films were the Pirates of the Caribbean (2003-2017). I quickly learned that there was a long history to this genre, yet there was very little research done on the subject. My professor even gave me the option of switching topics, but there was enough information out there to inspire and drive me.
The Ice Pirates (1984), one of the most 80s movies I’ve ever seen.
It would be a lie if I said that the idea of an under-researched genre being my paper topic didn’t excite me, but I was simultaneously terrified; what if I just set myself up for failure? Had my ambition gotten the best of me? This is when I felt as if my emotions worked against me.
As I worked on the project, I had to establish priorities of what questions I could answer with the research available to me. Writing this paper was more about strategy compared to previous essays I had encountered. Any embarrassment or insecurity about my unfamiliarity with the subject had to disappear. My confidence in what I could do was far greater than my uncertainty, and yes, I feared I was in over my head, but I could still use my tenacity as a positive force.
Though a lot of the time it isn’t an asset, my stubbornness and grit will aid me in the future with more difficult projects, people, and situations. Some would say I’m too passionate about what I like and am interested in, but it makes my passion bleed through the page (or at least I hope it does.) When I’m approached with a challenging project, my passion drives me through it.
Richard Bolles said in his book “What Color is Your Parachute,” “The difference is enthusiasm and passion. Yours. You’re much more attractive to employers when you’re on fire” (73). If employers want passion I’ve got it; it’s just a matter of finding where to apply myself. Although the project I used as an example is English major-oriented it taught me that you can do a lot with a little.
In the end, I was extremely proud of what I did for my film class. I synthesized so many ambiguous pieces of information and still made a clear and substantial argument. At times, my emotions feel like a waste of energy, but when I can channel them into a project I can actually create something. Even though I consider myself a creature of habit, I completely changed my strategy and approach to this project, using my stubbornness to enable flexibility and I still met the deadline with these challenges. I was very uncertain about working with so little and so much unknown, but Anders points out, “Your liberal arts education has taught you to move forward as a researcher in the face of ambiguity…you can adapt to a changing environment” (109).
My ability to chameleon to what is needed was something I had in myself since I was young, but I think it’s been honed by majoring in English. A lot of this is due to my effortless empathy. So many of my skills are not specific to what we do in English classes, but malleable to multiple careers and it’s taken all four years of college for me to realize that. My passion and want to pursue life is my greatest strength; it’s fed by all the literature I read, the ideas I absorb, and my need for creation and connections between people. I still can’t play an instrument to save my life, but if I ever do I’ll probably cry yet this time I won’t be embarrassed about it.
Majoring in English has been so valuable to me personally because I feel like I’ve learned so much about many different areas of life. I’ve learned so much history, I’ve learned about culture, and I’ve learned the most about people. I think the ability to read, absorb, and critically analyze texts from all over the world has given me a lot of experience with people’s emotions and how they deal with them. I’ve been introduced to a lot of different stories, so, not to say that I’m prepared for ‘anything,’ but I feel as if I’ve experienced a lot.
One of the biggest ways that I could see my English skills being valuable to the job market is through my ability to deal with ambiguity, a trait that Anders talks about in “You Can Do Anything.” On page 109 he says that a liberal arts education has given us the knowledge of, “[how] to move forward as a researcher in the face of ambiguity.”
In the past, I’ve seemed to have made it a habit to choose very interesting–my paper topics have been called “sophisticated” but I think that’s just a nice way to put it–yet difficult topics or arguments for my papers. Either they’re widely under-researched or not suited for the length of paper that I’m attempting (that is the paper would end up being a dissertation of sorts). There have been three major papers in my college career that I have had to spend a large portion of my time dealing with inadequate research, unconventional topics, and unfamiliar technology.
“Like a septic tank explosion, it has to be seen to be believed.” -Detriot Free Press
One of my projects was a final paper for a class in which I had to compare a document from the Enlightenment, period, Alexander Pope’s ‘Essay on Criticism,’ and a contemporary piece of media; I chose John Waters’s film Pink Flamingos (1972). For the paper, I had to research reviews of the film when it originally was released, however, because Waters’s film was very underground–it only had midnight releases–this meant that many mainstream newspapers or magazines did not review the film.
Through some creative thinking and the help of the library research staff, I was able to find some really incredible authentic sources. I had to visualize my route to success before I knew what it was. In addition to that, the two pieces of media that I decided to compare were very different. this gave me the ability to work with material that usually doesn’t go together (these are two very different texts). Though the material itself was not unfamiliar, I still had to learn how to make two things that are not similar seem cohesive.
Another one of these projects was a final paper for my American Film Genres class. I decided to write a paper on pirate movies, professionally known as the Swashbuckler genre. Without any prior knowledge of this genre, I began my research and I found it incredibly difficult to find history or journals of substance about the genre or answers as to why it’s not as popular as it once was (in the 1940s). My professor even gave me the option to change my topic before it was too late, but I stuck with it. Eventually, I scrounged together sources to begin my research.
My information grew as did my paper. Though I still had very little to work with, it allowed me to look in interesting places to find information. From there I was able to create a comprehensive and clear final paper about the Swashbuckler genre. In the end, it was wonderful to be able to learn about something that not a lot of people know about but also kind of contribute to a subject that’s under-researched. My ability to come up with creative solutions, my “willingness to [keep] jump[ing] into new areas,” and my ability to create something out of very little are three qualities that I’ve learned from my English degree (87, Anders).
I also learned quickly how to work with media and equipment that I hadn’t worked with before when taking a Film Production class. Most of my time in college has been spent focusing on the academic and the writing part of film, so very recently I filmed my own short film for class. I “improvised my way to success”(81, Anders).
Is it good? No. Did it meet the rubric? No. Did I try my best and learn something new that I can now fine-tune? Absolutely and I’m glad I took the class even though I was scared out of my wits because I didn’t have any prior knowledge of filmmaking. Also, this is kind of like what Anders was talking about when people with Humanities degrees also take classes in coding; it’s about acquiring one new technical skill that opens up new jobs. Unfortunately, I do not have this project because it was on my computer that broke. Sorry.
In my first blog post, I talked a lot about empathy and how being sensitive has been a driving factor in my journey to graduating with an English degree. Though empathy has not helped me specifically with these projects, my ability to step into different spaces, see new angles, and work within uncomfortable circumstances with ease are very similar. The skills that I have as a person and acquired while in college are in no way “useless,” they just needed better explanations as to how they can benefit a company.
One of the best compliments I’ve ever heard is “I’m rooting for you.” I was playing a game of Bananagrams at Felix (the best words come out after your second French 75) when our server came by, saw my board, and spoke those four lovely words toward me.
Not only is the word choice interesting–to root? I’m growing roots for you? It’s far more casual than “I believe in you” and far less affectionate. When I looked up the origin of the phrase (idiom?), I found it is from the British word “rout” meaning to bellow, usually related to cattle. So, how we got from cattle yelling to encouragement, I don’t know.
But if we really think about it, the idea of rooting for someone is so beautiful. To be their support, their physical roots something grounding them while they grow or go out on a limb. Rooting for someone means supporting them with no gain of their own, simply basking in someone else’s joy or achievements.
I didn’t need someone to root for me at that moment (it was a very low-stakes game), but it was nice to know that someone was on my side. In that moment he was actively thinking about me and wanting me to win. There are people in our lives who root for us daily with no gain besides our happiness. Yet, this wonderful stranger who happened to enjoy my friend and my game of buzzed Bananagrams was rooting for me.
My name is Lilly Flowers and a few days ago I got to pick out a random literary magazine from a pile of them in my professor’s office. Our class focuses on copy editing and the publishing industry, and much of the conversation centers around the kind of jobs one can get with editing experience. I chose the “‘Arts & Letters” spring 2023 edition of the Journal of Contemporary Culture published by Georgia College. To be honest, I mostly picked it out because of the pretty cover (see the bottom of the post), but inside I found some wonderful works of poetry and prose. Some of them are not as bright and cheery as the cover, however.
Iowa City, Iowa by Jesse Lee Kercheval
Smoke, horizon, cornfield, windbreak, road, an implicit plot all disconnected as of by jigsaw blade, amputated pine boughs, gouged sky, fissures of horizon. Only when I write, staring for hours, do the bits begin to fit. I sense a compression in my spine. I match some pieces but others, red as marrow, won’t fit unless I force them. I tire. As always. I lift my eyes to window. Sky and bare limbs like saw cuts. A cloud like a torn blouse. I can’t assemble this.
I could feel the frustration so viscerally the first time I read this poem. The choppy lists of images painting the vast unchanging physical land around them show the monotony of having to always be creating, thinking of something, imagining. Jesse Lee connects the physical land with her mind; the landscape is in pieces and so is she. She’s trying to make something, but all her ideas aren’t fully formed, “amputated pine boughs…fissures of horizon…bare limbs like saw cuts.” These words are sharp like our own thoughts when we can’t write. So much of our worth is bound up in what we can create when you cannot measure your worth by that.
Although the poem is named “Iowa City, Iowa,” Iowa could be anywhere for the reader. The place they’re stuck: a hometown, a city they’ve outgrown, or a state of mind. Iowa is someplace where, after being there, nothing seems to fit. “Disconnected as of by jigsaw blade” it’s as if we’re confused and unsettled about our physical, or mental, surroundings. We no longer fit into that space therefore it cannot support us.
The spine is an interesting body part to focus on in this piece. It connects the entire body and when the spine is damaged it’s devastating. The “compression” Jesse Lee feels is the brink of what is coming. She’s on the edge of devastation and complete burnout if she doesn’t take care of herself. Forcing yourself to make something and “staring for hours” are not ways to motivate yourself.
By the end of the poem, it feels like Jesse Lee has given up. She cannot assemble this. It’s a definitive statement. But I don’t think that we should see this as a failure. Jesse Lee hints at the idea of a break, as in taking a break. For such a short piece, she is communicating a lot through her imagery connected to the physical body. The internal and external are working together to scream at you “Take a break! You cannot create under these conditions!” Your body needs a break, your mind needs a rest, and maybe you need a change of scenery.
I’ve always been an emotional, sensitive person; my mom once said that no one would care as much as I did. I’m almost totally sure this is why I feel literature or any piece of writing so deeply. Even if it doesn’t directly relate to me or any category that I fit into, I know that the person who does relate–if it’s written well–will be affected in a positive way and that meant something to me. Poetry and fiction were made to be emotional even if it’s not directly the story’s tone. The novel may not be sad by the author’s choice, but when we read we connect with characters we may have never met in real life or never could have related to in passing. One of the books that first inspired this in me is Sharon M. Draper’s novel “Out of My Mind.” This was one of the only books I have read multiple times, I’m not a big fan of rereading my books, but I couldn’t help but I love that book; even if it made me cry, I wanted to be the main character again and feel her stress and eventual triumph.
To me, English, writing, and any form of words have always been about emotion and being able to be empathetic. I felt sad for every character, every author, every imaginary person that’s reading it in the past, present, or future. Like Jasmine Guillory in her article “Don’t Underestimate the Power of Black Fiction” I felt very deeply what the characters were feeling. I’ll find something in every character that’s similar to me or take something from each character and I take a piece of the story with me. Maybe it’s odd for me to say I find something like myself in every character I read, but honestly, as someone who wants to create things—create films, novels, something tangible—I want everyone to find a book that they see themselves in. I think that the whole point of reading is finding those shared experiences or discovering your feelings along with the character. And I think that’s part of why I also want to write is because I want to be able to experience so many things that I feel like the way to do that is through reading and literature, it’s not just going places within a book, you get to experience so many people’s lives. I want to be them and take a little bit with me too.
A lot of what we read this past week stuck with me because it talked so much about the emotions surrounding the English language and literature. Former US poet laureate Tracy Smith spoke in her opinion piece in the New York Times titled “Wipe that Smirk Off Your Poem” about how now poetry authors have the tendency to steer towards irony almost as if they’re afraid of being made fun of for being too emotional or too cheesy in their work. In turn, I think that has turned a lot of people off to poetry. One quote from Smith stood out to me in her piece, “Irony refuses to be life-giving or world-creating. Irony negates wish.” I think as a society we have become so steeped in irony that a large portion of people have decided to stay away from any sort of emotion as a sort of protection. If we aren’t vulnerable we cannot be hurt, but isn’t being empathetic and vulnerable part of what it means to be human. In a larger conversation on another day, this is why the issue of artificial intelligence concerns me. With the development and improvement of AI it makes me wonder if we will ever be able to return to openly being emotional, without shame or worry for compassion. I firmly believe that as humans we were made to create stories to deal with our emotions and share our experiences, none of which artificial intelligence could replicate. The act of reading fiction or poetry was created with the purpose of empathy and I was made to care.
works cited
Agarwal, Pragya. “Emotional Ai Is No Substitute for Empathy.” Wired, Conde Nast, 31 Dec. 2022, www.wired.com/story/artificial-intelligence-empathy/.
Guillory, Jasmine. “Jasmine Guillory on the Importance of Reading Black Fiction.” Time, Time, 30 June 2020, time.com/5861861/jasmine-guillory-black-fiction/.
Smith, Tracy K. “Does Poetry Matter?” The New York Times, The New York Times, 2015, www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2014/07/18/does-poetry-matter/wipe-that-smirk-off-your-poem.
