Meet Our New Intern: Isabeau J. Belisle Dempsey

In some small grade, at some small age, in my small hands was placed a manuscript. Handwritten in a child’s unsteady letters on a stack of wide-ruled loose leaf paper, yes, but a manuscript nonetheless. It was a story about a lawyer. Some of the students in my class were collaborating to write it out, and they had neared the end of their work and were looking to move it to the final stage: adding illustrations. And this job had been delegated to me.

I was decently skilled at drawing and was happy to have that noticed, so I gladly took up the task. In order to know what to draw, I first had to read the story. I don’t exactly remember what the words said or how the story went. All I remember is thinking, “Oh, no.” Oh, no, no. Whoever had written this was not a writer. Whoever had written this needed help. And this job would be taken up by me.

I remember pulling out the core elements of the story and reworking it for better flow, rewriting entire sections, and questioning the characters’ motivations. My classmates, of course, didn’t give a damn about all that. After I dutifully drew the requested illustrations, they lost interest in the project entirely. But I’d felt a spark: this was my first real experience with creative writing and I was hooked. Like many writers, I was one of those kids who read books under their desk during class. The local library was my second home. But until working with that lawyer story, I hadn’t realized that I could write stories of my own. After that, I wrote constantly. But it was only now, as I’ve begun to pursue a career in editing, that I’ve realized my love for editing also started from that little stack of loose leaf paper. 

Reader, writer, editor; writer, editor, reader; editor, reader, writer—there’s no saying what label I would prioritize in aligning myself with. It all comes down to the same thing anyway: words, words, words; books, books, books. And books, for me, are inescapable.

While earning my BA in International Studies, I found myself assisting a professor with the research for a book she was writing. And then I found myself writing a chapter for her book. And then I found myself co-authoring an entire book with her. Then, after graduating, rather than finding a job in the field I got my degree in, I ended up working as a bookseller in a bookstore I had grown up visiting. I landed in freelance copyediting after a coworker at the bookstore told me he was moving out of the country and asked if I’d be interested in taking up his position at a press he read for.

Eventually, I stopped lamenting my BA “going to waste” (it didn’t, it hasn’t, and it won’t) and started listening to what was being whispered in my ear: go into books, stay in books, live books.

My editorial practice has come a long way since I was eight years old and asserting complete ownership over someone else’s manuscript. When publishing our book, my co-author and I worked with an incredibly warm team who walked in tandem with us and our vision, and it was this specific experience that made me want to go into editing professionally.

I firmly believe that we humans were put on this earth, first and foremost, to chit-chat—to share our stories and perspectives and opinions, whatever form that may take. As a writer myself, I know how daunting it is to share your work publicly. I want to be the kind of editor who uplifts their author, encouraging them to speak their own story candidly with a strong, unwavering voice. Art is communication; art is community; community is everything. We write to be heard, we read to listen. And I, for one, would love to hear what you have to say.

---

Isabeau J. Belisle Dempsey (they/them) is a proud Chicagoan, Belizean, Lesbian, and Capricorn. They hold a BA in International Studies and Spanish and are currently earning an MA in English Literature and Publishing, and they hope to eventually put their obsession with commas to good use as an in-house editor. History book co-author, amateur poet, freelance copyeditor, and generally just along for the ride, you can find Isabeau in your local bookstore surreptitiously fixing the shelves—they were once a bookseller and never quite broke the habit.