When I Dropped Out At 20, My Sister Told Everyone: “She’s The One Who Didn’t Finish.” Twelve Years Later, I’m Yale’s Dean Of Admissions. One Essay Read: “My Family Moved Past My Aunt’s Setback.” The Name? Amanda Chen. My Niece. I Picked Up My Red Pen And…

the secret hierarchy of who had real power and who only performed it. I learned that publishing ran not on glamour but on unpaid overtime, vanity, instinct, and the ridiculous stubborn belief that sentences could still matter. By the time I fell into bed each night, my feet hurt and my inbox terrified me, but my mind was alive in a way it had not been continue reading …