Dear Reader,
On Saturday, I went to a small party with people I’ve known casually for years but rarely see.
When we all first met, I was doing my PhD in history. Fast forward 15+ years: One of us is a tenured professor, and almost all of the other folks are decades into stable, well-paying careers in k-12 education, government, or the corporate sector.
And then there’s me—fully self-employed, mostly working with individual clients (not institutions or businesses), and doing it all 100% online from my apartment.
At one point, one of my acquaintances asked me if I still did “any intellectual work at all anymore.”
Yikes, right?
But the thing is, I wasn’t offended. He seemed curious, and his tone wasn’t patronizing.
And when I responded “no”—because I assumed he meant scholarly work (academic teaching, researching, writing)—he looked genuinely pained.
It was actually fascinating for me, to come up against someone else’s feelings of loss for what I wasn’t doing.
I interpreted his reaction as evidence that, to him, scholarly work has innate positive value, and that giving it up (or no longer having the opportunity to pursue it) is a loss.
A loss for me, maybe. And definitely for the world.
But here’s what he didn’t consider, namely, that the work I do now is intellectual work.
I do a lot of thinking things through as part of my job, including helping my clients do the same.
And, more importantly perhaps, I’m a happier, more confident person now.
The work I do is fulfilling, engaging, and often fun. It’s more aligned with my own values, strengths, and goals.
Plus, I might well be making more of a positive contribution to the world than my scholarship ever could have. (Impossible to prove either way, but not unreasonable to assume.)
Here’s what a PhD scientist—a stranger—told me on Monday on Bluesky: “I think your work is so important.”
Yeah. Awesome. I’m glad!
Years ago, that question, “Do you do any intellectual work at all anymore?” and being surrounded by typically successful people with great careers would have left me feeling insecure and ashamed of my own choices.
But this time, I wasn’t fazed. (I even hung around for a few more hours. And I’m an introvert!)
And that shift—that self-trust—is exactly what I want for the professors, postdocs, and other PhDs I work with.
I want them to know that what they are doing and working toward is right for them.
I want them to feel confident in that, so that the opinions, circumstances, and choices of others don’t knock them off-kilter.
When I coach PhDs, I’m not here to convince anyone to want what I want.
Instead, I’m here to help people figure out what they want, which might be very different from my choices.
So they can move toward work that reflects their values, goals, and interests.
No matter what academia culture or other typical success narratives would say about it.
That’s the whole point of the PhD Career Clarity Program. Enrollment is open (always).
If you’re done letting academic culture define what counts as success or intellectual work, or if you want to embrace entirely different concepts for your life and career, I’m glad you’re here.
You don’t have to figure it all out by yourself.
I’ll be away from my desk starting Thursday (tomorrow), and back later this month. I’m still supporting folks inside the program, of course, but if you’re eager to ask me any questions or explore whether the program is right for you, today’s the day.
👉 Learn more or join the program.
📩 Or reply to this email and let me know what’s on your mind.
Whatever you decide:
- You still get to be an intellectual, if that concept is meaningful to you. (Or, swap it out for educator, scientist, innovator, writer—whatever matters to you.)
- You get to pursue meaningful work, however you define it.
- And, yeah, you get to define what success means for you.
Oh, and my friend with the pained expression?
It turns out he’s considering a job change that sounds like exactly what he needs. But he’s being held back by a definition of success that no longer supports his goals.
Here’s hoping he figures it out before things reach a crisis point. (I don’t wish that on any of us.)
Thanks for reading.
Until next time,
Jen
