Reflections from an Open Book intern: Bohdi Byles
The Open Book: Australian Publishing Internship is a six-month internship program aimed to increase cultural diversity in the Australian publishing workforce. Bohdi Byles was this year’s Sydney-based intern; he shares his reflections upon completion of the pilot program.
Before this year, I had a bachelor’s degree double-majoring in gender studies and writing, a master’s degree in creative writing, experience interning at a publisher and experience as a bookseller. And the publishing industry would not even blink in my direction. The Open Book internship program changed that. Across three publishers—NewSouth Books, Pan Macmillan and Hachette—I gained experience in sales, editorial, publishing, digital content creation, publicity and marketing. I understand how publishing works, how these departments work together.
It was an incredible learning opportunity for me, the publishers I was at and for the program itself. It was important to me that I didn’t just speak about myself but spoke about the importance of Open Book and to try carve out a path for future interns. I was aware that people in the industry were paying attention to me, to what I was doing and saying. So here I am, to be as unflinchingly honest as I was throughout the program.
Truth be told, I pushed through a lot of personal stuff and I almost quit the program twice. Many things about the publishing industry concern me. Pay, diversity and inclusion, accountability, burnout and work stress. I’m proud that I didn’t shy away from these uncomfortable conversations. I have sat across from CEOs, executives and co-workers, and talked openly and transparently about these topics.
It is common knowledge that the pay in publishing is shit. It was repeated to me more times than I can count throughout the program. There is an overwhelming secrecy to not talk about it but I assure you, people are explicitly talking about it. There is an expectation that we do what we do because we love it, not because of the pay. That isn’t a logical or feasible option anymore. Reflecting long and hard on salaries in this industry might offer the answers that people are looking for when they question why people aren’t applying for jobs.
Diversity and inclusion are not token words, though this industry sure likes to throw them around. It’s gratifying to see some publishers walk their walk and disheartening to see other publishers that do not. I forewarned quite explicitly that I would have my own mental health issues that would more than likely occur. That’s my reality. That’s the reality for many people from marginalised backgrounds, whether LGBTQ+ or Indigenous, or from lower socioeconomic areas, dysfunctional families and so on. It is not enough for programs and publishers to open the door for people, they need to make sure that the spaces we are entering into are safe. That’s how you bring people in and that’s how you retain them.
There is a difference between idle gossip and holding people accountable for their actions. I had an experience where I was given work that was violently graphic without being forewarned or given the option to back out. I grew up with the internet, I’ve seen worse. However, it was the aftermath that stung. It was downplayed by everyone where I was second-guessing the situation. I was told that ‘these things happen’ and ‘don’t rock the boat, everyone knows everyone in this industry’. I backed off. I felt silenced, small and alone. I wish I had the confidence at the time to rock the boat.
Burnout and work stress are immensely present in the industry. Books+Publishing did a recent survey that proves as much. We continue to progress through a global pandemic that none of us could have predicted or prepared for, which rode on the coattails of half the country being on fire for months. The pandemic was overwhelmingly present at all three publishers I worked at: it turned one placement fully remote, one placement almost remote, and I was repeatedly exposed to Covid at a third placement. The uncertainty, the stress, the fear, the divisiveness. This isn’t normal. Of course we’re burnt out, of course we’re stressed. At what stage have we had time to pause, reflect and process?
I am not overly optimistic that things will change. I know I am just one intern, but I am one voice of many. People want to talk about these issues, it’s just a matter of whether the industry will listen and whether it will put in place actionable steps and changes. Over everything else, I have some pieces of advice for the industry: pay people a realistic salary, realise how burnt out everyone is feeling and that it can’t be fixed with a Band-Aid, create accessible opportunities so your teams can reflect the society we live in, and take mental health seriously.
I’ve said it before, but I didn’t come into this program to impress people and pretend to be something I’m not. I was never going to be the perfect intern. I said precisely that in my application. I am flawed, I have my issues, I am insecure. I am honest, I am willing to speak truth to bullshit, and I am imperfect at my core. In a way, I would argue that made me a choice candidate for the Open Book program.
On my final day, I held back tears. I farewelled my amazing mentor, Bianca Jafari, who was a constant pillar of support, and the superb person overseeing the program, Patrizia Di Biase-Dyson. I reflected on the friends and experiences I’d made. I’m grateful to all three publishers and still champion those authors and stories. I have a large stack of books that I am proud to have worked on in some small way, including books by Stephen King, Michael Robotham, Geraldine Brooks, Randa Abdel-Fattah, Hayley Scrivenor and Hanya Yanigahara. I had the opportunity to share my own work with multiple publishers, and I’m writing fiction again for the first time since 2019.
Moving forward, I have offered to continue working with Open Book for future programs. I’m unsure what those discussions will be just yet, but it is important to me that I stay true to my intentions of championing the program. This program was never just about me, it was about those who will hopefully come after me. Those who might not have the confidence to have those difficult conversations about representation, diversity, mental health struggles. I did it so they wouldn’t have to. My advice for future interns of Open Book, or any program, is to take initiative. If people aren’t giving you work, or you aren’t meeting with the people you want to, reach out and do it yourself. Make the program what you need it to be. Also know that to have struggles is to be human and that it’s okay to not be a perfect intern.
I came into Open Book not knowing if publishing was an industry I wanted to be part of. I am finishing having found my voice again and figured out where I belong, feeling confident in knowing when something is right for me (and knowing when to walk away when it isn’t).
Bohdi Byles (he/they) is a writer/makeup artist based in Sydney. He was the inaugural 2022 Open Book Sydney intern, has experience working in publishing and bookstores, and has had writing published in Archer Magazine, Kill Your Darlings and Books+Publishing. He is a vocal queer person, a proud Indigenous person, a passionate creative and an avid reader.
Category: Features
