The new novel, Early Decision: Based on a True Frenzy, is about a professional college admissions essay coach. The author,  Lacy Crawford, used her experiences catering to extremely wealthy applicants as the basis for the tale about four wealthy students and one low-income hopeful who receive the help of the central character.

She was interviewed by Scott Jaschik of Inside Higher Ed, and some of her client interactions like they are culled from “Dead Poets Society.”

Q: What’s the worst thing a parent ever asked you to do?

A: In Early Decision, there’s a father who rewrites his son’s Common Application essay after his son has been rejected early decision by his first-choice school. In the revision, the father argues — in the first person, ventriloquizing the boy — that communities benefit from a range of people, the superstars and the average alike, and that the student should be admitted to the other schools on his list not because he is stellar but because he is not. This happened. On the night in question, the father summoned me to proofread his new essay before ensuring that his son submitted it. It broke the boy’s heart, and it broke mine. (I did not oversee submission of that essay. I told the student how I felt, and left it in his hands to decide what to do.)

Q: In your novel, parents seem like the villains (much more than do students or colleges). Are parents out of control generally, or do you think this is true primarily of those in the upper economic stratospheres?

A: Parents aren’t out of control generally, no. Their anxiety may be out of control, but for the most part, parents behave very well. It is certainly the case that at very high levels of income and influence, a sense of entitlement colors the judgment of some parents. But across a wide band of communities, there is a fair amount of dirty dealing going on, by which I mean not only parents doing everything they can to give their kids a leg up, but also parents overlooking the fact that their children’s development is more important than where they are admitted to college. We may read about parents doing ridiculous things and think, “Whew, we’re so glad we’re not that crazy,” and that’s true. But where do we draw the line? When does support become manipulation? When does tutoring stop helping a child, and start teaching him that on his own he’s not good enough? How can we come to realize that character — resilience, curiosity, dedication, a moral compass — is the prize here, and value that over the name on the diploma? Over time, I think, parents know this. But in the heat of senior fall, when everyone is feeling crazy, perspective can become clouded.