Welcome back to my weekly series about Life After the
Contract where I talk about the things that happen after you have a contract
that largely go untalked about. Last week I talked about how as soon as a
contract exists you need a bazillion things previously not needed, causing a
huge emergency time rush. One of the most agonizing things is the biography.
Under normal circumstances, I don’t mind talking about
myself. In fact, I tend to think of myself as a key eyewitness in my life.
Perhaps my deductions into the reasoning behind certain actions are somewhat
amateurish leading to the occasional emotional outburst (hey, if I were a
professional, I’d be able to channel that stuff properly), but otherwise, I’m
something of an expert.
But once there is a needed to describe myself to other
people as though it isn’t me doing the describing… let’s just say it got
interesting. Oh, and did I mention that I basically needed it yesterday?
In a nutshell, the bio has to tell the world who you are,
why anyone should care, and what you’ve done. And you have a very short space
to do it in. Oh, and did I mention that there are literally millions of people
who have written bios, and no one is ever going to pick up your book base off
your bio? But everyone knows that some people might pick up your book based off
your bio, it just depends on if it can stand out (which is different for every
person, because, you know, some people like Papyrus font and some people would
like to burn Papyrus from every word processor).
And it’s traditionally done in third person.
I talk about myself as though I am not myself? Which sort of
makes me feel like I should wear a sign along the lines of “Pay no attention to
the writer behind the curtain. She is in no way biased about this bio currently
being read.”
In short it makes me crazy to talk about myself like that.
Worse, if a writer had been at all prepared—and as people will no doubt recall,
I was not—this should already have been written. Which means a writer with
contract in hand has a sudden need to talk about themselves as if they were
someone else bragging about themselves and might potentially be suffering from
the solid sting of embarrassingly knowing they should have done something sooner.
This knowledge that you should have written it already REALLY give the imposter
syndrome some nice material to work with. And, because you’re rushing, it’s not
your best work. Which means, you might be pushing that imposter alarm a few
more times. *sigh*
In short folks, learn from my fail.

