Meet Our New Intern: Brianna Eaton

A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf was one of the first books I read that I physically could not put down. I felt like an archeologist that had just discovered something completely new. Here I was, sixteen, holding pure gold, from thousands of feet in the ground, in my own two hands. I felt like Woolf was writing to me, specifically. She seemed to know my secrets, my desires, my thoughts, from deep down in the depths of my soul. Reading A Room of One’s Own felt like a drug, I was now hooked, and I would now chase my way through every other book trying to get the high this one gave me. 

I would like to accredit Virginia Woolf to my love of reading, but that would be a lie. While Virginia Woolf sparked my obsession with books, my love and hate relationship with goodreads, and my god-complex on Instagram, I was secretly a book junkie long before it was cool. 

My mother read to me before I was even born. Sitting in the bottom of her belly, with no way to form a single thought, I somehow listened to my mother, sitting in a rocking chair, reading me books upon books. Although Pat the Bunny is a long ways away from A Room of One’s Own, these tiny stories entering my tiny developing mind paved the way for my imagination to grow. 

I first picked up The Hunger Games in third grade. Somehow, overnight, I had graduated from Magic Tree House to dystopian fiction that may have been a bit too vulgar for my little brain to comprehend. Regardless, the book about a teenager defying the system created a tiny sliver of hope in myself, one that I at the time, I had not realized I already had inside of me. 

I could not imagine my life without reading. I know this sounds cliche and stupid, books are everywhere, you read everywhere. It doesn’t matter if you’re scrolling on tiktok, watching tv, or out in public, reading is everywhere. It surrounds us, consumes us. You, behind the screen, are reading right now. Yet I cling to this ability like I will lose it. Reading is so precious to me, and something I find myself overlooking the importance of. 

Long story short, or maybe short story long depending on your attention span, that’s how I ended up writing this and you ended up reading this. My basic story of, “I love books so I am going to go into publishing” might seem the same as everyone’s, but to me, my goal in life is to help others find the book they will become passionate about, consumed by, live by, and love by. I want to be able to help authors put their work, their heart, their soul out there. I want to help preserve them on paper, through pages, and sew them into history. And I can’t wait to get started. 

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Brianna “Bree” Eaton (she/her) is sophomore studying English with a concentration in Publishing and Creative Writing at the University of Tennessee, where she also serves on the Phoenix Magazine Staff. Born and raised in East Tennessee, she enjoys all things neo-applachian, cryptic, and feminist. When she isn’t doing school work, editing, writing, or running circles around campus, she can be found reading, re-watching episodes of the X-Files, or planning last minute trips to new (or familiar) cities.