If you had told me a decade ago that I’d be working at a law firm, I would have laughed, NMR tube in hand, surrounded by the familiar clutter of a chemistry lab. My career as a bench scientist was motivated by the simple joy of discovery: watching a chemical reaction change color and solving a stubborn synthetic puzzle. My future in the lab felt both obvious and settled. But sometimes careers, like reactions, yield unintended products.
During graduate school, I was named a coinventor on a patent application. Until then, “intellectual property,” or IP, was just a phrase I’d heard in passing. Now I was receiving a crash course in the subject, learning how the science I loved could be translated into legal language and, ultimately, protected as an invention. I was intrigued. Here was a new technical field where my chemistry and communication skills could have an impact beyond the lab, helping shape the future of emerging therapies.
Still, I wasn’t ready to leave the bench. I completed my Ph.D. in medicinal chemistry, synthesizing and evaluating new anti-addictive pharmacotherapies. My dissertation research took me from academic labs to the National Institutes of Health. As my Ph.D. journey came to an end, however, I felt unsure about my next steps. I loved wet lab work, especially when tied to the fascinating therapeutic areas of neuropsychiatry and psychedelics. But the prospect of a nationwide search for an academic or industry position that might take me away from my Midwestern family weighed heavily on me.
Conflicted, I sought the advice of a friend. She graduated from my Ph.D. program a few years ago and is currently working as a patent agent at a Chicago-based law firm. When we met to catch up, she described a job she genuinely loved. Every week brought a new project and a fresh set of puzzles that demanded a keen scientific eye. One day, she might be reading about drug delivery systems. Next, a new synthetic pathway or medical diagnostic instrument.
More importantly, she sounded joyful. She didn’t romanticize the tight deadlines or billable hours, but she did describe the satisfaction of shepherding an innovation through the legal system, translating complex data into arguments that could stand up in front of a USPTO examiner or a judge. Although she admitted missing the occasional hands-on experiment, her words and confident presence overwhelmingly conveyed gladness in her decision to leave the lab.
I walked away from our conversation feeling both reassured and challenged. The part of me that craved new problems and loved telling the story behind the data felt seen. And the hardened part of me that was stubbornly committed to the idea of being a career bench chemist began to soften. If my friend could be happy away from the bench, perhaps I could as well.
Heartened, I applied for my current role as a Scientific Advisor at Husch Blackwell, where I use my medicinal chemistry expertise to support prosecution and litigation over pharmaceutical and chemical intellectual property. Like my friend, I’ve discovered the satisfaction of translating dense scientific data into arguments that can withstand legal scrutiny.
Looking back, I realize how pivotal that single conversation was. Speaking with my friend didn’t completely dismiss my fears of regret, but it did give me permission to imagine a different future, leading me to a role that allows me to stay intellectually tethered to science while expanding the ways I contribute to it. As a result, I’m mindful of how much those moments of candor can matter to someone standing at a crossroads, and I now make time for mentoring and informational interviews.
One of the most gratifying conversations I've had was with a former lab mate nearing the end of her fifth year of graduate school. She once shared my commitment to the traditional path, but shortly after our conversation, accepted a role at an IP law firm. These conversations remind me of my own uncertainty and reinforce a lesson I didn't fully appreciate at the time: career transitions are rarely about leaving something behind. More often, they're about carrying hard-earned skills into new spaces and helping others see those possibilities for themselves.
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Carolyn Straub received her B.A. in Chemistry from Roosevelt University and her Ph.D. in medicinal chemistry from the University of Illinois Chicago in the lab of Andrew Riley. She currently works as a Scientific Advisor at Husch Blackwell LLP, where she uses her technical knowledge to support life sciences intellectual property matters.
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