Nemesis

When I was at school, one of my (many) least favourite things to do was write personal statements. I don’t know why I had to do it so often but I seem to remember it being a yearly ordeal and it was always a struggle for me.

I didn’t do any sports. I wasn’t musical or artistic. I didn’t go to any after-school clubs. I didn’t have any particularly shining skills or talents. I was a fairly average girl who was slightly too scared of most things and liked to spend her free time reading and writing. And what teenager wants to admit that on paper?

Writing at that point, was a guilty pleasure for me. I have written for as long as I remember, but I used to keep it quiet. I started showing poems to my friends when I was about fifteen (mostly because poetry-writing appeals to the angst ridden teenager and I wasn’t the only one doing it) but before that, I never felt that writing was an acceptable way to spend my free time.

And so, when I was presented with a piece of paper and asked to, in my neatest handwriting, describe what I was good at and what I liked to do outside of school, I was at a loss. It always made me feel like I was somehow less of a person than the girls who played hockey or netball and practised with the orchestra three times a week. I would look at my page and think I was lacking. Sometimes, I wouldn’t even acknowledge that I liked to write.

When it came to ‘selling myself’, to pointing out the things I was good at, I was useless. I wasn’t really good at anything and I was always worried that if I implied that I thought I was, someone would laugh at me. I would say that I was a good listener – because that’s what people told me – and that I was always punctual and liked to learn new things. There was a bit of truth in all these claims, but really, I was scraping the barrel.

I’m a bit better at this kind of thing now, but I still struggle. The kind of personal statement you have to write for a job application is easier because you can gear it towards the role you’re applying for. But I think I’ll always struggle with the dreaded short bio.

A biography for a writing publication is all about finding the right fifty words to tell everyone who you are and what you do. It’s supposed to make them want to find out more about you and read more of your work. Again, it’s supposed to sell you.

I can’t make grand claims about publications I’ve appeared in and I haven’t done anything that makes me sound like I’m an exciting new writer to follow. In fact, sometimes I feel like writing a mini biography makes me look worse than if I didn’t say anything at all.

And so the short biography is my nemesis. Any small writing success I have means I have to face it, and every time I do, it reminds me of all the things I haven’t done. And every time that happens, that young girl insides me lowers her head in embarrassment and wishes she could play the piano.

Image by Luis Argerich