Trinity McFadden (she/her)

Dr. James "Jim" Stephens died earlier this week. I took Intro to Philosophy with Dr. Stephens, not knowing it would change my life. It was the first time I felt not only safe, but supported, in my questioning of all the things. That class led to 19th Century Philosophy, which led to changing my major junior year because I couldn't imagine studying anything else full-time. I remember afternoons with him and just a few other students in the teacher's lounge, drinking crappy coffee and discussing theories of consciousness. Another group of us around a small table discussing contemporary philosophy and Jean-François Lyotard and "The Postmodern Condition." He let me double up my work senior year when I was totally overwhelmed and combine my paper for him with one I was writing for another professor for a seminar on Wittgenstein. (Sorry/not sorry, Dr. Burke.) As the only woman in our graduating class majoring in philosophy, he never let me feel less-than. He actually seemed to delight in my questions and how I'd occasionally set my male classmates back on their heels. But beyond our classes, Dr. Stephens showed me such affection and care. He had recently quit smoking, and would lovingly scold me when he saw me on campus with my cigarettes. I almost dropped out of college my junior year, but a meeting with him gave me the courage to keep going. He gave me permission to quit, and told me that he thought I already knew what I really needed. For twenty years, I've wondered what he meant by that. I thought he saw something that I didn't, something that I couldn't access within myself. I realized just this week that I think he was actually pointing me to my own inner knowing, which no one had done before. I had always operated from a place of obligation, of "shoulds." In the fall of 2016, I went back to campus to meet up with a friend, but before I did, I sat in on Dr. Stephens' Ancient Philosophy Class in the Fishbowl, feeling ancient myself with all those philosophy babies, and also so lucky to sit under his tutelage once more. [continued]

Tomato season = best season @smittenkitchen #shrimpavocadosalsa

My garden is a bit wild and disorganized (kind of like me), but wow is it beginning to bear some fruit.

Some new (and old) clippings. #propagationstation #satinpothos #zzplant

Two years ago today I started working with The Bindery as a literary agent. It's been the best two years of my professional life. My team has been so supportive, especially during all the months I was working toward finishing my MBA while working full-time. I'm so honored by all the authors who have trusted me with their work. It's a privilege to partner with so many amazing writers, content creators, world changers, publishers. I can't imagine doing better, more meaningful work. (Photo by Henry Be on Unsplash)

Just doing some repotting over here. Sometimes we've become so rootbound, we have to break open whatever containers are holding us so we can continue to grow. #zzplant #snakeplant #houseplants #metaphors #keepgrowing

2020 was a mixed bag (to say the least), but at least I figured out how to be a nurturing plant mom.

In times of uncertainty and overwhelm, the idea of just doing the next right thing has helped me take the small steps I need to keep moving forward. Remember: small step + small step + small step... = big leap (sticker from @glennondoyle 's online store)

It's fun to be featured in this @publisherswkly article alongside @jdblase , @esteezandee , and @thomaspdean .

Today marks my first day with @the.bindery as Literary Agent! I couldn't be more grateful for how my 12-year career in book publishing has led me to this point. If I could tell my 9-year-old self (who wanted to be a librarian when she grew up) that someday her job would be to help authors get published, she would have done cartwheels. I'll be working remotely with The Bindery team from my home in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I can't wait to begin signing authors and supporting them in this new role! ✍️