An Interview with Science Writer Susan D’Agostino
By Allison Henrich (Seattle University) and Susan D’Agostino
Susan D’Agostino is an associate editor at the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, where she writes and edits stories that equip the public, policy makers, and scientists with the information needed to reduce man-made threats to our existence. Susan's science writing has been published in The Atlantic, The Washington Post, Wired, Scientific American, Quanta, BBC Science Focus, Nature, Financial Times, Undark, Atlas Obscura, Discover, Slate, Literary Hub, and the Chronicle of Higher Education, among others. She served as editor in chief of A Celebration of the EDGE Program's Impact on the Mathematics Community and Beyond (Springer, 2019), a book of essays and articles written by women mathematicians. She is also a member of the editorial board of the MAA's Math Horizons magazine.
Allison Henrich, Deputy Editor of the Math Values blog, interviewed Dr. D’Agostino in August of 2021.
Susan D’Agostino
AH: We met just as you were finishing your PhD in math at Dartmouth College. Tell me a bit about your educational journey up to that point.
SD: I dropped out of calculus in high school and did not pursue math in college. As an undergraduate, I majored in anthropology and took nearly as many classes in film. Later, I regretted not having gone farther in math. So, at 25, while working full time, I enrolled in a precalculus class at night and set a goal of earning a math doctorate. I wasn’t concerned with how long it would take me.
AH: When you started grad school, what was your plan? Did you intend to go into academia afterwards?
SD: I never planned to go into academia. My pursuit of the math doctorate was personal; I sought to explore the boundaries of my human potential—and was committed to doing so without incurring debt. To get through college, I milked cows and mucked stalls on a farm, which paid for my books and rent. That farm let me pick fruits and vegetables for free, which hints at what I ate. For tuition, I studied hard to earn merit scholarships. My parents provided some financial help, but I was responsible for the rest.
That said, I spent nearly a decade as a math professor, which included earning tenure, the university’s excellence-in-teaching award, and recognition from my state’s governor for my math outreach efforts to regional, first-generation students. But that position, which was the only one I applied for and whose search took place outside of the normal hiring season, materialized after unusual circumstances. Only two weeks elapsed between my application and their job offer. My interview occurred three days after holding my mother’s hand through the night in which she died too young. For the record, I don’t recommend interviewing in a shell shocked, grief-stricken state. Still, during my on-campus visit, I spoke with the dean—a woman who had earned her doctorate in the 1950s at Harvard when that was rare. She was brilliant, feisty, and full of heart, which was all I needed to know.
I was the first math PhD that this school—a regional university with 2,000 students, all face-to-face—had ever hired. I developed and taught nearly all of the math major courses on my own until help arrived a few years later. Then, in what seemed like overnight but must have been longer, the school reinvented itself; enrollment ballooned to 150,000 online students and counting. I admired the institution’s efforts to minimize financial burdens for its many low-income students. But, as a faculty member, I was not drawn to teach at a school whose primary, not to mention massive, public identity existed in the online space. The dean I admired had left, and it was time to correct my professional trajectory anyway—this time without managing profound grief. I tuned out those who suggested that giving up tenure was heresy, wished the institution well, and set my sights on new adventures. Life, I understood, is precious and fleeting. No doubt other adventures awaited, and perhaps I could pack two lifetimes into one.
AH: Tell us how you realized you had an interest in writing, and how did your career as a writer begin?
SD: I had been obsessed with writing since I was a teenager. In truth, my pursuit of math was intended to offer fodder for my writing. Even as a math graduate student and professor, I never stopped dreaming of being a writer.
To borrow a phrase from Hemingway, my writing career happened slowly at first, then all at once. In the “slow” phase, I wrote for years on my own. Then I enrolled in the odd writing class at Grub Street in Boston and The OpEd Project, after which I’d publish an essay here or there. Few personal or professional pursuits thrilled me more than a byline on a math, science, or opinion story in a publication I long admired.
Later, I earned a contract for a general-interest math book from Oxford University Press and funding to pursue a master’s degree in science writing at Johns Hopkins. At Hopkins, I found my people. To be clear, mathematics remains central to my identity. That is, today I identify as both a mathematician and a writer.
AH: You’ve written for publications such as the Washington Post, The Atlantic, and Scientific American, among many other impressive venues. What does the path from a PhD to a successful career writing for broad audiences in such high-profile publication outlets look
like?
SD: My path has been anything but straight, which is to say that it has been delightful.
Today, my work is not all that different from that of a scholar or artist. I have a one-hour editorial meeting every week but otherwise create my own schedule. I write—and write and write and write. I also edit—and learn from—the writing of other scholars to ensure a wide readership. And I read peer-reviewed papers and talk with PhDs who serve either as sources for my stories or authors of their own. Then I publish all of the above. It’s a dream.
AH: Now, you’re an associate editor at the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, helping to educate the public and policy makers about existential threats such as nuclear risk and climate change. With a PhD in pure math, how did you learn the scientific content you needed to learn to be able to understand and communicate such technical subject matter?
SD: I honed my research skills in my math doctoral program at Dartmouth and my storytelling and editing skills in my science writing program at Hopkins. I have also learned a ton from editors and other science writers. Shout out to John Mecklin at the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, who assures me that, in journalism, we learn by doing. And my Hopkins writing friends—Ellen, Tara, Bill, and Joe—with whom I still meet regularly, are always right there with me, caring about the story.
That’s not to say that I find my work easy. On the contrary, translating scientific papers—with all of the technical detail, academic jargon, and use of the passive voice that that implies—into accessible, lively prose is a daily challenge. But I savor the work. I’m at home, metaphorically speaking, when I exist in the space between hardcore scientists and smart, curious nonexperts.
AH: What is the most satisfying part of your job?
SD: Every few weeks, I dive deep into a new, significant math or science topic. I also talk one-on-one with the world’s top scientists in areas I cover, which has offered mind-blowing life experiences. And I recharge when I am left alone to write or edit. As something of an introvert, the balance of “energy out” and “energy in” in this work suits me.
Also, I relish opportunities to have more women and underrepresented mathematicians and scientists act as sources for my stories or write their own stories. In matters of representation, journalism has room for improvement.
Finally, in this era of vaccine hesitancy, climate change denialism, and questionable uses of statistics, I find deep meaning in the work of public science journalism. Every day, I get out of bed eager to fight this good fight.
AH: What advice do you have for other mathematicians who are interested in writing for nonmathematician audiences?
SD: Go for it.
AH: Is there anything else you’d like to share?
SD: My book, How to Free Your Inner Mathematician, is not a memoir, but the title nonetheless hints at my life philosophy. My journey to free my own inner mathematician will always be a work in progress.
Also, I love meeting other mathematicians. Connect with me on Twitter @susan_dagostino or via my webpage: www.susandagostino.com. Introduce yourself at a future MathFest or Joint Mathematics Meetings. I’m always game for good conversation about math, writing, and especially math and science writing.