Welcome to
Two brilliant scientists. A multi-billion dollar rocket ship. One small problem: someone has to explain to the world why any of this matters — with real craft, real range, and a real point of view. This is the story of why that someone is Tess Clark.
The Premise
10Reasons. One role.
No overtime required.
Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney bought a football club they'd never heard of in a town they'd never visited — and then had to figure out, very publicly, how to run it. The stakes turned out to be enormous.
Dario Amodei and Daniela Amodei built one of the most consequential AI companies on the planet. Now they need someone who can translate what that actually means for the enterprises betting their futures on it. Not a typical tech hire. Someone with thirty years of storytelling across every medium humans have invented.
A CalArts screenwriter. A television advertising veteran. A woman who has sold stories to major studios and sold ideas to Fortune 500 boardrooms — often in the same career week. Welcome to Anthropic.
In ascending order of obviousness, starting with the one you'll feel in your bones.
Welcome to Wrexham isn't about football. It's about a town that needed to believe in itself again. She knows this instinctively — because she's spent three decades working in TV, film, documentaries, plays, radio, books, and short stories, always asking the same question: what is this really about? The best enterprise copy isn't about software features. It's about the CFO who finally got her board to stop being afraid of AI, the ops team that reclaimed their Friday afternoons, the CTO who stopped losing sleep. A CalArts-trained screenwriter knows how to find that story before a word is written. And a television advertising veteran knows how to tell it in thirty seconds flat.
TV. Film. Documentaries. Plays. Print. Books. Radio. Short stories. Tech. Each of these is a completely different voice system — different rhythms, different registers, different contracts with the audience. She has built fluency in all of them. When Anthropic needs its enterprise voice to stretch across a campaign headline, a solutions page, a whitepaper, and a paid social line without losing the thread — she knows how to hold that thread, because she's been holding different threads simultaneously across completely different mediums for three decades. The Head of Copy won't just gain a writer. They'll gain someone who has thought harder about voice as a system than almost anyone they'll interview.
A Bachelor of Fine Arts in screenwriting from CalArts is not a writing degree. It's a thinking degree — a rigorous education in structure, character, stakes, and the architecture of narrative under pressure. She has sold screenplays and story outlines to major studios and production companies. She knows what it means to pitch an idea to a room full of people with opinions and money, defend it, refine it, and land it. That exact skill — concepting an idea, representing it with confidence, making the room believe in it — is what this role calls "executive presence." She's been doing it since before most of her future colleagues had their first internship.
Her television advertising career is long, sustaining, and genuinely wide. Automotive. Health. Beauty. Sports and fitness. Travel. Home. Major enterprise clients, each with their own audience, their own technical complexity, their own version of "what we need the viewer to feel by the end of thirty seconds." She has delivered, every time, across every vertical — adapting tone without losing voice, changing the emotional register without dropping the strategic thread. This is exactly what the enterprise creative team needs: someone who has already proven they can move between industries and audiences without starting from zero each time.
Selling a screenplay to a major studio or production company is one of the most unforgiving conceptual exercises in any creative field. The idea has to work before a single word is written. It has to survive a room of skeptics with money, egos, and competing agendas. It has to be clear, specific, and emotionally true — all at once, on your feet. She has done this, and she has sold. That's the muscle this role needs when it asks for someone who can "take a brief and come back with an idea, not just a draft." She doesn't pitch copy. She pitches concepts that copy lives inside.
In television advertising, the writer who can only perform in the room is a liability. The writer who can only go deep in the research never gets in the room. She does both — and has for thirty years. She digs into the brief, the audience, the competitive landscape, the technical detail — and then she walks into the pitch and makes the room believe. That combination is exactly what this role describes as "leader-doer": set the vision, uphold the bar, give sharp creative direction — and then stay at the desk and do the work yourself. Reynolds didn't just write checks. She doesn't just write memos.
Television. Film. Advertising. Every one of these is a collaborative art form where the writer who doesn't understand what the image is doing gets their words cut. She has spent thirty years writing alongside directors, cinematographers, designers, and art directors — learning viscerally how a line lands differently when the visual shifts, how silence can carry more than the sentence that was scripted, how the best creative partnerships produce something neither person could make alone. The Art Director, Enterprise will have a collaborator who instinctively writes for the space the visuals leave open, not the space they fill.
World travel isn't a hobby. It's a training program in audience intelligence — learning to read a room where you don't know the conventions, adjusting your register without losing your authenticity, understanding that what moves people in one context can fall completely flat in another. She brings that fluency to enterprise audiences. She has written for automotive buyers and wellness consumers, fitness enthusiasts and homeowners, travelers and patients — and she knows what changes when the audience changes and what must stay fixed. The CTO and the CFO read differently. The developer and the VP of Operations need different things from the same product. She navigates that without a map, because she's been navigating unfamiliar terrain her whole career.
She is an intuitive healer and a mindful meditator. She is not a typical tech worker, and she will tell you so directly, because it's precisely the point. She believes that AI is the most significant technological shift of our generation — on the scale of industrialization, with stakes just as high and human costs just as real. And she believes, with equal conviction, that the companies building and deploying AI need voices that carry humanness and authenticity into every piece of copy, or they risk writing the future in a language no one actually lives in. Anthropic's mission is safety and benefit. Her instinct is the same — just expressed in the medium of words, campaigns, and the stories enterprises tell about why any of this matters.
Thirty years. TV. Film. Documentaries. Plays. Print. Books. Radio. Short stories. Advertising. Screenplays sold. Campaigns run. Boards pitched. Worlds traveled. An intuitive healer. A mindful meditator. A woman who has written across every medium humans have used to tell each other the truth. Anthropic doesn't need another person who learned to write at a SaaS company. It needs someone who brings a lifetime of authentic human experience to a technology that desperately needs humanness — someone who can write the enterprise story without forgetting the humans that enterprise story is supposed to serve. She is not the safe hire. She is the right one. And in thirty years, when people look back at how the AI story was told, her fingerprints will be on the version that actually mattered.
Full Time
Thirty years of craft. Every format. Every room. Every audience.
A CalArts screenwriter who sold to Hollywood and wrote for the Fortune 500
in the same career. An intuitive healer who sees AI as the industrial revolution
of our lifetime — and knows it needs human hands to write its most important stories.
She is not your typical tech hire. That's why she's the one.