I’ve talked before about managing interns at a
publishing company. It’s a hugely oversubscribed industry that so many young
people are looking to get into. It’s deeply unfair in so many ways – most of
the people I encounter are super qualified, with years of (often unpaid)
experience under their belt, and are getting themselves into huge amounts of
debt in order to land an entry-level job. Almost every intern I work with
deserves a full-time job in publishing, but competition even for unpaid positions
is brutal.
There are so many barriers to entry – it’s an industry
notorious for its elitism and lack of diversity. Over 90% of people who worked
in it last year classified themselves as White British, a statistic that is
even more shocking when you realise it’s actually an improvement from four
years ago, when the figure was almost 94%. And the divide is not just a racial
one – whilst I don’t have any official data to back this up, most publishers
seem to be privately educated and grew up in or around London. It really hit
home last year when I, myself, was held up at a company dinner as the proud
product of my company’s commitment to diversity.
Let’s put this into context. I am the middle-class,
university-educated, white daughter of a CEO. I was raised by my
happily-married parents in a six-bedroom house in a leafy suburb. I got where I
am because I walked into jobs offered by family members in high places, and I (allegedly)
got my first role in publishing because the interviewer thought I was pretty. I
am the very definition of privilege. So why did my former boss think my
presence in the office would suffice as ‘diversity’? Because I’m not from
Southern England. Because I ‘ass-k’ questions rather than ‘arsk’ them. It made
me cringe. I thought of my Welsh Filipino friend, Carly, who dreams of becoming
an editorial assistant. I thought of my schoolfriend, Zani, who would give
anything to enter the industry but is black and working class, and so is stuck
writing website copy for a car firm in Birmingham. I’ll never know the
struggles they face every single day.
Considering how left-wing the publishing sector generally
is, it seems odd that this would be the case. But with a year’s interning
experience usually being the basic requirement for even a poorly paid
entry-level position, it’s little wonder that the average publishing
professional seems to be Oxford-educated, Caucasian and with a healthy
inheritance in their future. After all, it’s an almost exclusively
London-centric industry – and who can afford to work unpaid for a year in one
of the world’s priciest cities? Hell, I can barely afford to live here and I’m
lucky enough to have a paid position.
Don’t get me wrong, we publishers are generally a nice
bunch, and we’re all well aware of the problem. We’ve definitely got a long,
long way to go (particularly with ethnic diversity), but there is help out
there for those struggling to find their place in such an exclusive industry.
The lovely folks over at the Northern Fiction Alliance are spearheading a
campaign to break the hold London has on the industry with the aim of
increasing regional diversity and promoting inclusivity. They’re calling on
publishers to do their bit by opening up shop in the North and kicking open
doors for brilliant aspiring publishers from outside London. But if you’re
currently in the dreaded internship stage of your career, what can you do to
make it worth for you?
The Spare Room
Project – If you’re looking to complete an internship but live outside of
London, consider getting in touch with the remarkable people at the Spare Room
Project. I first heard about this through one of our own interns, who wouldn’t
have been able to afford to work for us without this incredible initiative. The
people who run the project believe that no one should be left out because of
where they live, so they match up interns with kind publishing professionals
who have spare rooms in London to offer (for free). This is a brilliant scheme
that really tackles the problem head on.
Home Sweet Loan –
This is a scheme set up by Penguin Random House, and although it’s for
employees rather than interns, I thought I’d mention it anyway. They offer all
of their employees interest-free loans on rental deposits (even those still in
their probation period), which can be paid back monthly through wage
deductions. Particularly useful since the average deposit for a London rental
is a whopping £1830! FYI: PRH are on of the only publishers to accept interns
without degrees, having recently dropped this requirement to be more inclusive.
HarperCollins BAME
Traineeship – HarperCollins has been named one of the best BAME employers
in the country. Their year-long paid traineeships are exclusively for people of
colour. And you don’t even need a degree (or experience)!
Follow @PubInterns
on Twitter – This Twitter account is
run by two former publishing interns (now publishing professionals) dedicated
to ‘fighting the good fight against unpaid internships’. Not only have they
been instrumental in challenging publishers who refuse to pay their interns,
they regularly tweet information about paid internships and entry-level jobs,
as well as offering unwavering support to prospective publishers. Personally, I
think unpaid internships are on the way out, but this is a fantastic place to
find yourself a paid role until then.
Work experience
placements – Rather than committing to an internship, which can be as long
as six months or a year, consider a work experience placement of one or two
weeks instead. Regional publishers tend to be tiny and unable to commit to
full-time paid internships, but they might be willing to offer you a week’s
worth of voluntary work. It’s definitely
not ideal, but it’s far better to be able to gain experience nearby and live at
home than to relocate to London for no money! Small, local publishers probably
won’t advertise work experience, but it can’t hurt to drop them an email and
ask what they can offer you.
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