Facing the Question Mark:

Reflections on Post-Grad through Job Hunts, Writing, and Community.

Read more about Ava Duskic at the end of the blog.

A Sigma Tau Delta induction speech given to the Gamma Iota chapter at Muhlenberg College in  April 2024 by post-graduate alumnus, Ava Duskic. 

So, my little sister is a freshman in high school, and her first official big girl, 5-paragraph essay  was on Romeo and Juliet. She had to pick a side on who was to blame for Romeo and Juliet’s  deaths—Romeo and Juliet, themselves, for being stupid kids in love, Friar Lawrence for putting  ideas into the heads of stupid kids in love, or their families for trying to keep stupid kids in love  apart. She ran into my room, laptop in hand, sweaty palm and nervous chatter, asking me  questions about essay structure (“So, can I start with my point in the introduction and then  expand on it later on”), analysis (“Why does Romeo call both Rosaline and Juliet beautiful so  many times”), and most importantly, picking an argument (“Friar Lawrence might be easier to  talk about but Romeo and Juliet make more sense. Which one is the right one to pick?”).  

Which one is the right one to pick? I swear, it is like looking into a mirror sometimes. I  remember taking an in-class essay test in high school, having to pick an argument, something  about if electric cars were better than regular cars, picking electric cars, only to change my mind  mid-way through and end up writing a whole essay about gas-only cars with 20 minutes left in  the class.

I’m much better at writing now, thankfully. I might still need some help in the making decision  department, though.  

I’ve often said that I could never visualize life after college. I would sit there and try, but all I  could conjure up was a big question mark. Taunting me. As a visual person, this was alarming. I  had already designed my college dorm room by the time I was 11. So, what did this mean?  Obviously, it meant I had no future.  

Okay, I’m being dramatic, but really, when it came down to it: I had no idea. I knew I loved  college and writing. I was able to hang out with friends within minutes of having the thought,  and I had dedicated time to spend my nights writing about niche topics. I really didn’t want to  lose that. So, I ignored it (really ignored it, you can ask my parents) until suddenly my final  thesis was submitted, a diploma was in my hand, and I was back in my childhood bedroom.  Staring at the question mark in front of me. 

You know, being asked to write a speech really calls for a lot of reflection. What have I done for  almost a year? Well, I travelled for a little bit in the summer. It doesn’t hit you when the sun is  shining and the sticky smell of sunscreen hangs onto your body, just another summer before  college. It’s all fun and games until the back-to-school commercials start up and your little sister  is shopping for supplies, and you realize that won’t be you anymore. 

When I said I had no idea what I wanted for my future a couple sentences ago, I kinda lied. Truth  is, I had so many ideas that they started to solidify, warping and sticking together, forming the  shape of that question mark, cancelling out. Neuroscience research? Med school (my parents  love this option)? Grad school? And an English major’s favorite answer: the publishing industry. 

Don’t get me wrong. I love academia. I love being a student and learning more than anything.  But I had to come to terms with the fact that she was my crutch. I got the formula down. I knew  how to be the best student, but I did not know how to be the best version of myself. The one who knows what she wants.

I wanted to study without even knowing what I wanted to study. Going  straight back to school without a clear idea of my path is just the sorta thing I would do and have  done—so I didn’t. But I did not have the luxury to sit around and wait for divine intervention to  grant me my answers (spent four years waiting for that plan to work out) so I tried out a different  beast entirely: the job market. 

I spent Fall Semester of “Try to Find a Job” School looking for entry level positions in  publishing, specifically academic publishing to utilize both my Neuroscience and English  degree. But the job market is rough and unforgivable. You are writing cover letters on top of  cover letters, seeing job postings coming and going within a week, each with 100+ applicants for  one coveted position. It will definitely test your willpower to face rejection that many times,  something writers do not enjoy. 

At the end of the day, I missed college. I missed writing because I wanted to write, not because I  was trying to convince some nameless hiring manager, and let’s be honest probably an  algorithm, that they’ve found their Cinderella in me, that I was the girl made to fit their magical  job posting against the view of all the eligible bachelorettes.  

Most of all, I missed the connection. Writing and reading books bound me to my peers, gave me  some of my most precious friends. Having an English degree from Muhlenberg opened me up to  a literary world that exists in the white spaces of sentences, between words and between lines.  By October, it had been months since I had written creatively or analytically. I had all the time,  and yet, I was drained. Brain fog, fatigue. Withdrawal-like symptoms. I understand I am  describing writing like an addiction I took a break from, but I missed the fever that took over  when your fingers could not write fast enough for your brain or the rush of stringing language  together, successfully encapsulating and translating an ephemeral feeling on a page. I missed the  presence that overcame me when I was presenting my work at a Sigma Tau Delta Conference,  sharing my writings as an author, academic, expert. Connecting and reaching out to people in the  process. Wanting them to do the same. Without reading and writing, life was admittedly dull. A  deserted community.  

However, thanks to some epiphanies, late night ranting sessions, and finding beauty in the  mundane, I started to write again. Small things in my notes app. Then, some paragraphs.  Anything to help deal with the conflictions of limbo.

With the help of a friend, I started a small  substack that I shared with some close ones who felt a similar manner in the post-grad haze. It  was a way to keep up with each other and find that connection we longed for when we would  read each other’s works in whispered breaths on the couches of Fireside Lounge. It felt…right.  

When a friend reached out and asked me to read her grad school writing sample, I was actually  giddy. I had been craving one of Linda’s workshops, a chance to analyze, admire, edit. Followed  Linda’s format and everything. Some things don’t change. Reading someone’s writing is a  precious gift. You hold a piece of their thoughts and hearts, their secrets and feelings. A mental exercise turned physical—a tangible manifestation of their being. It goes beyond a school  classroom. 

It wasn’t until the end of 2023, about 6 months post-graduation, when I saw progress in my  efforts to find a job. I got an internship with Mind Blossom, a nonprofit dedicated to promoting  mental health literacy, and W.W. Norton, an academic publishing company based in NYC.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t because my family knew the CEO’s daughter or because I found the  secret formula to cover letters and I wrote the next great American job application.  

No, instead, I followed my instincts, and I reached out. I reached out to Pernille Bulow Yilmam and sent  in my work, and she saw potential, working with me to find my place at Mind Blossom. 

I cold requested one of the editors at W.W. Norton on LinkedIn, asking if he would be willing to  meet with me to talk about his work and life at the company. During that meeting, he expressed  how lovely it was to have someone extend a, metaphorical, hand, and write a sincere message.  He also happens to be my boss now and suggested I might have a future in Sales for my  unbridled persistence.  

I sought out to create the connections I’ve been missing, focusing on writing invitations that  fostered human connection over corporate language, and it opened doors for me. I realized what  I loved most about writing and reading was how it connected me to the people around me, and I  let it drive me.  

As you can tell, I love to read and write. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. You wouldn’t either. I  guess what I am trying to say is—it goes beyond the assigned essays in class. Writing and  reading connects all of us.  

When my little sister asked me “Which topic is the right one to pick?” I told her what I wished I  had known and what I found out along the way: there is no right and wrong in writing.  Everything is both right and wrong.

I told her if she wanted to, she could write a whole essay  about how a rock in the middle of the street was the main culprit in Romeo and Juliet, and that as  long as she showed evidence and could believe what she was she saying, her essay would be  amazing. It is not about what you choose but how you write it, how you present your work so  that when you reach out to the reader, they are right there with you.  

People will give you a lot of advice when you are leaving college—whether or not you asked for  it.

Here’s mine: Don’t stop reading or writing. Don’t miss out on those forms of connection— reach for it and the rest will follow. Find comfort in your community. Don’t worry too much  about the right or wrong of your life decisions. There are only decisions and what you do with  them that matters.  

Thank you for having me, and congrats to all the inductees!

Learn about Ava Duskic