“When do I get to be who I’m going to be?”
It’s a question that still perplexes Julie Buxbaum, nearly a decade after graduating from Penn.It’s a key dilemma for Emily Haxby, the central character of Julie’s debut novel, The Opposite of Love.
And I’d bet it’s a problem a lot of Penn students wrestle with, too.
You wouldn’t expect it from Julie, who’s already been a Harvard law student, corporate lawyer, and (at present) successful novelist. Shouldn’t she know by now?
Well… talk to her for a few minutes, and you’ll understand. Julie wishes she’d gone into public interest law; having majored in PPE over English, she’s got a stack of classics left to read; and so on. Like a lot of us, Julie’s still figuring it out.
A self-confessed Type A personality — tethered to her cell phone as we talk across three time zones — Julie’s touring to support The Opposite of Love (she’ll be at the Penn bookstore at 7:00 tonight, signing the book and taking questions). While the novel’s great, Julie’s own story is just as intriguing.
On the strength of a New Year’s resolution, she quit a successful-but-unfulfilling job to pursue her secret dream: Become a novelist. Eight months later, she had a manuscript, and not long after that, a two-book deal.
All dreams should come so true.
Could Julie have written this book without a few years in the workforce? Probably. Emily’s fictional struggles — brutal work hours, the tyrannical boss — may be peppered with specifics to practicing law, but the character’s search for professional and personal fulfillment is a fairly universal quest. Take Emily’s creator.
“Nothing in my [Penn] experience taught me that I was allowed to be something like a novelist,” Julie says. And for a long time, that was okay; when childhood friends dreamed of becoming rock or tennis stars, she’d grown up drawing pictures of judges. Heading off to Harvard and working for a firm wasn’t easy, but at least the path was clear.
But to actually walk away from the security (if emptiness) of being a litigator at a top firm? Trading all her early accomplishments for a giant risk?
Obviously, it’s worked out for Julie, who acknowledges her luck with the publishing process. But even if it hadn’t, why was she “so willing to give up on larger dreams”? Was she sidetracked by a safe paycheck, she wonders? As Julie told another interviewer, if she’d stuck with the “supposed to’s,” she’d still be wasting away in a law firm somewhere.
At Penn, we’re surrounded by “supposed to’s” — find that good job, get into a good grad school. The expectations can be stifling if you’re a College student; our Wharton, Engineering, or Nursing roommates were seemingly born with a career path in their DNA. As a result, we can take the safe route, sometimes without even realizing it.
At the end of our call, Julie suggested that students should consider their hobbies — maybe one could become a career. Now, Julie’s not the first to recommend following your passions. But she’s one of the best arguments for why you should.
Tags: penn alums made good
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March 27th, 2008 at 12:19 am
This reminds me of a very good book that I read right before college called “What Should I Do With My Life?” by Po Bronson. It deals with a lot of these same questions. Penn students would be well served in giving these questions more serious consideration than many of them do.
Thanks Dan!
March 27th, 2008 at 12:40 am
Personally, I hope this book is better than the Bronson one. The author sounds more interesting, at least.
I think a lot of Penn students think about these issues, but don’t always know how to act on them, so they err on the side of caution and get a “normal” job rather than spend a few years indulging their passions.