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.”