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Essay on Myself: 100 Words, 250 Words and 300 Words

• Updated on  
• Mar 12, 2024

We are all different from each other and it is important to self-analyze and know about yourself. Only you can know everything about yourself. But, when it comes to describing yourself in front of others many students fail to do so. This happens due to the confusion generated by a student’s mind regarding what things to include in their description. This confusion never arises when someone is told to give any opinion about others. This blog will help students and children resolve the confusion and it also includes an essay on myself. 

While writing an “essay on myself” you should have a unique style so that the reader would engage in your essay. It’s important to induce the urge to know about you in the reader then only you can perform well in your class. I would suggest you include your qualities, strengths, achievements, interests, and passion in your essay. Continue Reading for Essays on myself for children and students!

Quick Read: Essay on Child Labour

Table of Contents

• 1 Long and Short Essay on Myself for Students
• 2 Tips to Write Essay on Myself
• 3 100 Words Essay on Myself
• 4 250 Words Essay on Myself
• 5 10 Lines on Myself Essay for Children
• 6 300 Words Essay on Myself

Quick Read: Trees are Our Best Friend Essay

Long and Short Essay on Myself for Students

Mentioned below are essays on myself with variable word limits. You can choose the essay that you want to present in your class. These essays are drafted in simple language so that school students can easily understand. In addition, the main point to remember while writing an essay on myself is to be honest. Your honesty will help you connect with the reader.

Tell me about yourself is also one of the most important questions asked in the interview process. Therefore, this blog is very helpful for people who want to learn about how to write an essay on myself.

Tips to Write Essay on Myself

Given below are some tips to write an essay on myself:

• Prepare a basic outline of what to include in the essay about yourself.
• Stick to the structure to maintain fluency.
• Be honest to build a connection with the reader.
• Use simple language.
• Try to include a crisp and clear conclusion.

Quick Read: Speech on No Tobacco Day

100 Words Essay on Myself

I am a dedicated person with an urge to learn and grow. My name is Rakul, and I feel life is a journey that leads to self-discovery. I belong to a middle-class family, my father is a handloom businessman, and my mother is a primary school teacher .

I have learned punctuality and discipline are the two wheels that drive our life on a positive path. My mother is my role model. I am passionate about reading novels. When I was younger, my grandmother used to narrate stories about her life in the past and that has built my interest towards reading stories and novels related to history.

Overall I am an optimistic person who looks forward to life as a subject that teaches us values and ways to live for the upliftment of society.

Also Read: Speech on Discipline

250 Words Essay on Myself

My name is Ayushi Singh but my mother calls me “Ayu”. I turned 12 years old this August and I study in class 7th. I have an elder sister named Aishwarya. She is like a second mother to me. I have a group of friends at school and out of them Manvi is my best friend. She visits my house at weekends and we play outdoor games together. I believe in her and I can share anything with her.

Science and technology fascinate me so I took part in an interschool science competition in which my team of 4 girls worked on a 3-D model of the earth representing past, present, and future. It took us a week to finish off the project and we presented the model at Ghaziabad school. We were competing against 30 teams and we won the competition.

I was confident and determined about the fact that we could win because my passion helped me give my 100% input in the task. Though I have skills in certain subjects I don’t have to excel in everything, I struggle to perform well in mathematics . And to enhance my problem-solving skills I used to study maths 2 hours a day. 

I wanted to become a scientist, and being punctual and attentive are my characteristics as I never arrive late for school. Generally, I do my work on my own so that I inculcate the value of being an independent person. I always help other people when they are in difficult situations. 

Also Read: Essay on the Importance of the Internet

10 Lines on Myself Essay for Children

Here are 10 lines on myself essay for children. Feel free to add them to similar essay topics.

• My name is Ananya Rathor and I am 10 years old.
• I like painting and playing with my dog, Todo.
• Reading animal books is one of my favourite activities.
• I love drawing and colouring to express my imagination.
• I always find joy in spending time outdoors, feeling the breeze on my face.
• I love dancing to Indian classical music.
• I’m always ready for an adventure, whether it’s trying a new hobby or discovering interesting facts.
• Animals are my friends, and I enjoy spending time with pets or observing nature’s creatures.
• I am a very kind person and I respect everyone.
• All of my school teachers love me.

300 Words Essay on Myself

My name is Rakul. I believe that every individual has unique characteristics which distinguish them from others. To be unique you must have an extraordinary spark or skill. I live with my family and my family members taught me to live together, adjust, help others, and be humble. Apart from this, I am an energetic person who loves to play badminton.

I have recently joined Kathak classes because I have an inclination towards dance and music, especially folk dance and classical music. I believe that owing to the diversity of our country India, it offers us a lot of opportunities to learn and gain expertise in various sectors.

My great-grandfather was a classical singer and he also used to play several musical instruments. His achievements and stories have inspired me to learn more about Indian culture and make him proud. 

I am a punctual and studious person because I believe that education is the key to success. Academic excellence could make our careers shine bright. Recently I secured second position in my class and my teachers and family members were so proud of my achievement. 

I can manage my time because my mother taught me that time waits for no one. It is important to make correct use of time to succeed in life. If we value time, then only time will value us. My ambition in life is to become a successful gynaecologist and serve for human society.

Hence, these are the qualities that describe me the best. Though no one can present themselves in a few words still I tried to give a brief about myself through this essay. In my opinion, life is meant to be lived with utmost happiness and an aim to serve humanity. Thus, keep this in mind, I will always try to help others and be the best version of myself.

Also Read: Essay on Education System

A. Brainstorm Create a format Stick to the format Be vulnerable Be honest Figure out what things to include Incorporate your strengths, achievements, and future goals into the essay

A. In an essay, you can use words like determined, hardworking, punctual, sincere, and objective-oriented to describe yourself in words.

A. Use simple and easy language. Include things about your family, career, education, and future goals. Lastly, add a conclusion paragraph.

This was all about an essay on myself. The skill of writing an essay comes in handy when appearing for standardized language tests. Thinking of taking one soon? Leverage Live provides the best online test prep for the same. Register today and if you wish to study abroad then contact our experts at 1800572000 .

Kajal Thareja

Hi, I am Kajal, a pharmacy graduate, currently pursuing management and is an experienced content writer. I have 2-years of writing experience in Ed-tech (digital marketing) company. I am passionate towards writing blogs and am on the path of discovering true potential professionally in the field of content marketing. I am engaged in writing creative content for students which is simple yet creative and engaging and leaves an impact on the reader's mind.

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15 Tips for Writing a College Essay About Yourself

What’s covered:.

• What is the Purpose of the College Essay?
• How to Stand Out Without Showing Off
• 15 Tips for Writing an Essay About Yourself
• Where to Get Free Feedback on Your Essay

Most students who apply to top-tier colleges have exceptional grades, standardized test scores, and extracurricular activities. How do admissions officers decide which applicants to choose among all these stellar students? One way is on the strength of their college essay .

This personal statement, along with other qualitative factors like teacher recommendations, helps the admissions committee see who you really are—the person behind the transcript. So, it’s obviously important to write a great one.

What Is the Purpose of the College Essay? 

Your college essay helps you stand out in a pool of qualified candidates. If effective, it will also show the admissions committee more of your personality and allow them to get a sense of how you’ll fit in with and contribute to the student body and institution. Additionally, it will show the school that you can express yourself persuasively and clearly in writing, which is an important part of most careers, no matter where you end up. 

Typically, students must submit a personal statement (usually the Common App essay ) along with school-specific supplements. Some students are surprised to learn that essays typically count for around 25% of your entire application at the top 250 schools. That’s an enormous chunk, especially considering that, unlike your transcript and extracurriculars, it isn’t an assessment of your entire high school career.  

The purpose of the college essay is to paint a complete picture of yourself, showing admissions committees the person behind the grades and test scores. A strong college essay shows your unique experiences, personality, perspective, interests, and values—ultimately, what makes you unique. After all, people attend college, not their grades or test scores. The college essay also provides students with a considerable amount of agency in their application, empowering them to share their own stories.

How to Stand Out Without Showing Off 

It’s important to strike a balance between exploring your achievements and demonstrating humility. Your aim should be to focus on the meaning behind the experience and how it changed your outlook, not the accomplishment itself. 

Confidence without cockiness is the key here. Don’t simply catalog your achievements, there are other areas on your application to share them. Rather, mention your achievements when they’re critical to the story you’re telling. It’s helpful to think of achievements as compliments, not highlights, of your college essay.  

Take this essay excerpt , for example:

My parents’ separation allowed me the space to explore my own strengths and interests as each of them became individually busier. As early as middle school, I was riding the light rail train by myself, reading maps to get myself home, and applying to special academic programs without urging from my parents. Even as I took more initiatives on my own, my parents both continued to see me as somewhat immature. All of that changed three years ago, when I applied and was accepted to the SNYI-L summer exchange program in Morocco. I would be studying Arabic and learning my way around the city of Marrakesh. Although I think my parents were a little surprised when I told them my news, the addition of a fully-funded scholarship convinced them to let me go. 

Instead of saying “ I received this scholarship and participated in this prestigious program, ” the author tells a story, demonstrating their growth and initiative through specific actions (riding the train alone, applying academic programs on her own, etc.)—effectively showing rather than telling.

15 Tips for Writing an Essay About Yourself 

1. start early .

Leave yourself plenty of time to write your college essay—it’s stressful enough to compose a compelling essay without putting yourself under a deadline. Starting early on your essay also leaves you time to edit and refine your work, have others read your work (for example, your parents or a teacher), and carefully proofread.

2. Choose a topic that’s meaningful to you 

The foundation of a great essay is selecting a topic that has real meaning for you. If you’re passionate about the subject, the reader will feel it. Alternatively, choosing a topic you think the admissions committee is looking for, but isn’t all that important to you, won’t make for a compelling essay; it will be obvious that you’re not very invested in it.

3. Show your personality 

One of the main points of your college essay is to convey your personality. Admissions officers will see your transcript and read about the awards you’ve won, but the essay will help them get to know you as a person. Make sure your personality is evident in each part—if you are a jokester, incorporate some humor. Your friends should be able to pick your essay from an anonymous pile, read it, and recognize it as yours. In that same vein, someone who doesn’t know you at all should feel like they understand your personality after reading your essay. 

4. Write in your own voice 

In order to bring authenticity to your essay, you’ll need to write in your own voice. Don’t be overly formal (but don’t be too casual, either). Remember: you want the reader to get to know the real you, not a version of you that comes across as overly stiff or stilted. You should feel free to use contractions, incorporate dialogue, and employ vocabulary that comes naturally to you. 

5. Use specific examples 

Real, concrete stories and examples will help your essay come to life. They’ll add color to your narrative and make it more compelling for the reader. The goal, after all, is to engage your audience—the admissions committee. 

For example, instead of stating that you care about animals, you should tell us a story about how you took care of an injured stray cat. 

Consider this side-by-side comparison:

Example 1: I care deeply about animals and even once rescued a stray cat. The cat had an injured leg, and I helped nurse it back to health.

Example 2: I lost many nights of sleep trying to nurse the stray cat back to health. Its leg infection was extremely painful, and it meowed in distress up until the wee hours of the morning. I didn’t mind it though; what mattered was that the cat regained its strength. So, I stayed awake to administer its medicine and soothe it with loving ear rubs.

The second example helps us visualize this situation and is more illustrative of the writer’s personality. Because she stayed awake to care for the cat, we can infer that she is a compassionate person who cares about animals. We don’t get the same depth with the first example. 

6. Don’t be afraid to show off… 

You should always put your best foot forward—the whole point of your essay is to market yourself to colleges. This isn’t the time to be shy about your accomplishments, skills, or qualities. 

7. …While also maintaining humility 

But don’t brag. Demonstrate humility when discussing your achievements. In the example above, for instance, the author discusses her accomplishments while noting that her parents thought of her as immature. This is a great way to show humility while still highlighting that she was able to prove her parents wrong.

8. Be vulnerable 

Vulnerability goes hand in hand with humility and authenticity. Don’t shy away from exploring how your experience affected you and the feelings you experienced. This, too, will help your story come to life. 

Here’s an excerpt from a Common App essay that demonstrates vulnerability and allows us to connect with the writer:  

“You ruined my life!” After months of quiet anger, my brother finally confronted me. To my shame, I had been appallingly ignorant of his pain. 

Despite being twins, Max and I are profoundly different. Having intellectual interests from a young age that, well, interested very few of my peers, I often felt out of step in comparison with my highly-social brother. Everything appeared to come effortlessly for Max and, while we share an extremely tight bond, his frequent time away with friends left me feeling more and more alone as we grew older.

In this essay, the writer isn’t afraid to share his insecurities and feelings with us. He states that he had been “ appallingly ignorant ” of his brother’s pain, that he “ often felt out of step ” compared to his brother, and that he had felt “ more and more alone ” over time. These are all emotions that you may not necessarily share with someone you just met, but it’s exactly this vulnerability that makes the essay more raw and relatable. 

9. Don’t lie or hyperbolize 

This essay is about the authentic you. Lying or hyperbolizing to make yourself sound better will not only make your essay—and entire application—less genuine, but it will also weaken it. More than likely, it will be obvious that you’re exaggerating. Plus, if colleges later find out that you haven’t been truthful in any part of your application, it’s grounds for revoking your acceptance or even expulsion if you’ve already matriculated. 

10. Avoid cliches 

How the COVID-19 pandemic changed your life. A sports victory as a metaphor for your journey. How a pet death altered your entire outlook. Admissions officers have seen more essays on these topics than they can possibly count. Unless you have a truly unique angle, then it’s in your best interest to avoid them. Learn which topics are cliche and how to fix them . 

11. Proofread 

This is a critical step. Even a small error can break your essay, however amazing it is otherwise. Make sure you read it over carefully, and get another set of eyes (or two or three other sets of eyes), just in case.

12. Abstain from using AI

There are a handful of good reasons to avoid using artificial intelligence (AI) to write your college essay. Most importantly, it’s dishonest and likely to be not very good; AI-generated essays are generally formulaic, generic, and boring—everything you’re trying to avoid being.   The purpose of the college essay is to share what makes you unique and highlight your personal experiences and perspectives, something that AI can’t capture.

13. Use parents as advisors, not editors

The voice of an adult is different from that of a high schooler and admissions committees are experts at spotting the writing of parents. Parents can play a valuable role in creating your college essay—advising, proofreading, and providing encouragement during those stressful moments. However, they should not write or edit your college essay with their words.

14. Have a hook

Admissions committees have a lot of essays to read and getting their attention is essential for standing out among a crowded field of applicants. A great hook captures your reader’s imagination and encourages them to keep reading your essay. Start strong, first impressions are everything!

15. Give them something to remember

The ending of your college essay is just as important as the beginning. Give your reader something to remember by composing an engaging and punchy paragraph or line—called a kicker in journalism—that ties everything you’ve written above together.

Where to Get Free Feedback on Your College Essay 

Before you send off your application, make sure you get feedback from a trusted source on your essay. CollegeVine’s free peer essay review will give you the support you need to ensure you’ve effectively presented your personality and accomplishments. Our expert essay review pairs you with an advisor to help you refine your writing, submit your best work, and boost your chances of getting into your dream school. Find the right advisor for you and get started on honing a winning essay.

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Your chance of acceptance, your chancing factors, extracurriculars, how do i write a good essay about myself.

I'm struggling with writing my college essay. How can I write a compelling and genuine essay about myself without it sounding boring or braggy? Any tips would really help!

First, I understand that writing a personal essay can be challenging, but with a little guidance and practice, you can create a compelling piece. Here are some steps to help you write a strong essay:

1. Choose a unique angle: Instead of providing a broad overview of your life, focus on a specific experience, interest, or aspect of your personality that has shaped who you are. This will make your essay more focused and memorable.

2. Show, don't tell: Instead of simply stating your qualities, provide concrete examples of how you've demonstrated those characteristics. Use vivid details, anecdotes, and sensory language to bring your story to life.

3. Be authentic: Be genuine in your writing and don't try to present yourself as someone you're not. Admissions officers want to get to know the real you, so let your personality shine through.

4. Reflect on your experiences: Point out the lessons you've learned and how those experiences have influenced your growth and decision-making. This will show maturity and self-awareness, which are traits that colleges value.

5. Avoid clichés: Steer clear of overused phrases, ideas, or experiences. Make sure your essay stands out by giving it a fresh and original perspective.

6. Edit and revise: Once you have a draft of your essay, review it for clarity, grammar, punctuation, and flow. Make sure that each paragraph supports the central theme of your essay and that your writing is concise and engaging.

7. Get feedback: Share your essay with teachers, family members, or friends to gain different perspectives. Incorporate their feedback to help refine your essay and ensure it's an accurate representation of yourself.

For example, if you have a passion for community service, you might write about a specific volunteer experience that had a significant impact on you. Talk about the challenges you faced, the people you helped, and the lessons you learned. Make sure to incorporate personal stories and reflections to give your essay depth and substance.

Remember, a good college essay showcases your personality, values, and growth. By following these steps, you can create a compelling and genuine essay that will leave a lasting impression on admissions officers. Good luck!

About CollegeVine’s Expert FAQ

CollegeVine’s Q&A seeks to offer informed perspectives on commonly asked admissions questions. Every answer is refined and validated by our team of admissions experts to ensure it resonates with trusted knowledge in the field.

Frequently asked questions

How do i write about myself in a college essay.

Most importantly, your essay should be about you , not another person or thing. An insightful college admissions essay requires deep self-reflection, authenticity, and a balance between confidence and vulnerability.

Your essay shouldn’t be a résumé of your experiences but instead should tell a story that demonstrates your most important values and qualities.

Frequently asked questions: College admissions essays

When writing your Common App essay , choose a prompt that sparks your interest and that you can connect to a unique personal story.

No matter which prompt you choose, admissions officers are more interested in your ability to demonstrate personal development , insight, or motivation for a certain area of study.

The Common App essay is your primary writing sample within the Common Application, a college application portal accepted by more than 900 schools. All your prospective schools that accept the Common App will read this essay to understand your character, background, and value as a potential student.

Since this essay is read by many colleges, avoid mentioning any college names or programs; instead, save tailored answers for the supplementary school-specific essays within the Common App.

When revising your college essay , first check for big-picture issues regarding your message and content. Then, check for flow, tone, style , and clarity. Finally, focus on eliminating grammar and punctuation errors .

If your college essay goes over the word count limit , cut any sentences with tangents or irrelevant details. Delete unnecessary words that clutter your essay.

If you’re struggling to reach the word count for your college essay, add vivid personal stories or share your feelings and insight to give your essay more depth and authenticity.

If you’ve got to write your college essay fast , don’t panic. First, set yourself deadlines: you should spend about 10% of your remaining time on brainstorming, 10% on outlining, 40% writing, 30% revising, and 10% taking breaks in between stages.

Second, brainstorm stories and values based on your essay prompt.

Third, outline your essay based on the montage or narrative essay structure .

Fourth, write specific, personal, and unique stories that would be hard for other students to replicate.

Fifth, revise your essay and make sure it’s clearly written.

Last, if possible, get feedback from an essay coach . Scribbr essay editors can help you revise your essay in 12 hours or less.

Avoid swearing in a college essay , since admissions officers’ opinions of profanity will vary. In some cases, it might be okay to use a vulgar word, such as in dialogue or quotes that make an important point in your essay. However, it’s safest to try to make the same point without swearing.

If you have bad grades on your transcript, you may want to use your college admissions essay to explain the challenging circumstances that led to them. Make sure to avoid dwelling on the negative aspects and highlight how you overcame the situation or learned an important lesson.

However, some college applications offer an additional information section where you can explain your bad grades, allowing you to choose another meaningful topic for your college essay.

Here’s a brief list of college essay topics that may be considered cliché:

• Extracurriculars, especially sports
• Role models
• Dealing with a personal tragedy or death in the family
• Struggling with new life situations (immigrant stories, moving homes, parents’ divorce)
• Becoming a better person after community service, traveling, or summer camp
• Overcoming a difficult class
• Using a common object as an extended metaphor

It’s easier to write a standout essay with a unique topic. However, it’s possible to make a common topic compelling with interesting story arcs, uncommon connections, and an advanced writing style.

Yes. The college application essay is less formal than other academic writing —though of course it’s not mandatory to use contractions in your essay.

In a college essay , you can be creative with your language . When writing about the past, you can use the present tense to make the reader feel as if they were there in the moment with you. But make sure to maintain consistency and when in doubt, default to the correct verb tense according to the time you’re writing about.

The college admissions essay gives admissions officers a different perspective on you beyond your academic achievements, test scores, and extracurriculars. It’s your chance to stand out from other applicants with similar academic profiles by telling a unique, personal, and specific story.

Use a standard font such as Times New Roman or Arial to avoid distracting the reader from your college essay’s content.

A college application essay is less formal than most academic writing . Instead of citing sources formally with in-text citations and a reference list, you can cite them informally in your text.

For example, “In her research paper on genetics, Quinn Roberts explores …”

There is no set number of paragraphs in a college admissions essay . College admissions essays can diverge from the traditional five-paragraph essay structure that you learned in English class. Just make sure to stay under the specified word count .

Most topics are acceptable for college essays if you can use them to demonstrate personal growth or a lesson learned. However, there are a few difficult topics for college essays that should be avoided. Avoid topics that are:

• Overly personal (e.g. graphic details of illness or injury, romantic or sexual relationships)
• Not personal enough (e.g. broad solutions to world problems, inspiring people or things)
• Too negative (e.g. an in-depth look at your flaws, put-downs of others, criticizing the need for a college essay)
• Too boring (e.g. a resume of your academic achievements and extracurriculars)
• Inappropriate for a college essay (e.g. illegal activities, offensive humor, false accounts of yourself, bragging about privilege)

To write an effective diversity essay , include vulnerable, authentic stories about your unique identity, background, or perspective. Provide insight into how your lived experience has influenced your outlook, activities, and goals. If relevant, you should also mention how your background has led you to apply for this university and why you’re a good fit.

Many universities believe a student body composed of different perspectives, beliefs, identities, and backgrounds will enhance the campus learning and community experience.

Admissions officers are interested in hearing about how your unique background, identity, beliefs, culture, or characteristics will enrich the campus community, which is why they assign a diversity essay .

In addition to your main college essay , some schools and scholarships may ask for a supplementary essay focused on an aspect of your identity or background. This is sometimes called a diversity essay .

You can use humor in a college essay , but carefully consider its purpose and use it wisely. An effective use of humor involves unexpected, keen observations of the everyday, or speaks to a deeper theme. Humor shouldn’t be the main focus of the essay, but rather a tool to improve your storytelling.

Get a second opinion from a teacher, counselor, or essay coach on whether your essay’s humor is appropriate.

Though admissions officers are interested in hearing your story, they’re also interested in how you tell it. An exceptionally written essay will differentiate you from other applicants, meaning that admissions officers will spend more time reading it.

You can use literary devices to catch your reader’s attention and enrich your storytelling; however, focus on using just a few devices well, rather than trying to use as many as possible.

To decide on a good college essay topic , spend time thoughtfully answering brainstorming questions. If you still have trouble identifying topics, try the following two strategies:

• Identify your qualities → Brainstorm stories that demonstrate these qualities
• Identify memorable stories → Connect your qualities to these stories

You can also ask family, friends, or mentors to help you brainstorm topics, give feedback on your potential essay topics, or recall key stories that showcase your qualities.

Yes—admissions officers don’t expect everyone to have a totally unique college essay topic . But you must differentiate your essay from others by having a surprising story arc, an interesting insight, and/or an advanced writing style .

There are no foolproof college essay topics —whatever your topic, the key is to write about it effectively. However, a good topic

• Is meaningful, specific, and personal to you
• Focuses on you and your experiences
• Reveals something beyond your test scores, grades, and extracurriculars
• Is creative and original

Unlike a five-paragraph essay, your admissions essay should not end by summarizing the points you’ve already made. It’s better to be creative and aim for a strong final impression.

You should also avoid stating the obvious (for example, saying that you hope to be accepted).

There are a few strategies you can use for a memorable ending to your college essay :

• Return to the beginning with a “full circle” structure
• Reveal the main point or insight in your story
• Look to the future
• End on an action

The best technique will depend on your topic choice, essay outline, and writing style. You can write several endings using different techniques to see which works best.

College deadlines vary depending on the schools you’re applying to and your application plan:

• For early action applications and the first round of early decision applications, the deadline is on November 1 or 15. Decisions are released by mid-December.
• For the second round of early decision applications, the deadline is January 1 or 15. Decisions are released in January or February.
• Regular decision deadlines usually fall between late November and mid-March, and decisions are released in March or April.
• Rolling admission deadlines run from July to April, and decisions are released around four to eight weeks after submission.

Depending on your prospective schools’ requirements, you may need to submit scores for the SAT or ACT as part of your college application .

Some schools now no longer require students to submit test scores; however, you should still take the SAT or ACT and aim to get a high score to strengthen your application package.

Aim to take the SAT or ACT in the spring of your junior year to give yourself enough time to retake it in the fall of your senior year if necessary.

Apply early for federal student aid and application fee waivers. You can also look for scholarships from schools, corporations, and charitable foundations.

To maximize your options, you should aim to apply to about eight schools:

• Two reach schools that might be difficult to get into
• Four match schools that you have a good chance of getting into
• Two safety schools that you feel confident you’ll get into

The college admissions essay accounts for roughly 25% of the weight of your application .

At highly selective schools, there are four qualified candidates for every spot. While your academic achievements are important, your college admissions essay can help you stand out from other applicants with similar profiles.

In general, for your college application you will need to submit all of the following:

• Your personal information
• List of extracurriculars and awards
• College application essays
• Transcripts
• Standardized test scores
• Recommendation letters.

Different colleges may have specific requirements, so make sure you check exactly what’s expected in the application guidance.

You should start thinking about your college applications the summer before your junior year to give you sufficient time for college visits, taking standardized tests, applying for financial aid , writing essays, and collecting application material.

Yes, but make sure your essay directly addresses the prompt, respects the word count , and demonstrates the organization’s values.

If you plan ahead, you can save time by writing one scholarship essay for multiple prompts with similar questions. In a scholarship tracker spreadsheet, you can group or color-code overlapping essay prompts; then, write a single essay for multiple scholarships. Sometimes, you can even reuse or adapt your main college essay .

You can start applying for scholarships as early as your junior year. Continue applying throughout your senior year.

Invest time in applying for various scholarships , especially local ones with small dollar amounts, which are likely easier to win and more reflective of your background and interests. It will be easier for you to write an authentic and compelling essay if the scholarship topic is meaningful to you.

You can find scholarships through your school counselor, community network, or an internet search.

A scholarship essay requires you to demonstrate your values and qualities while answering the prompt’s specific question.

After researching the scholarship organization, identify a personal experience that embodies its values and exemplifies how you will be a successful student.

A standout college essay has several key ingredients:

• A unique, personally meaningful topic
• A memorable introduction with vivid imagery or an intriguing hook
• Specific stories and language that show instead of telling
• Vulnerability that’s authentic but not aimed at soliciting sympathy
• Clear writing in an appropriate style and tone
• A conclusion that offers deep insight or a creative ending

While timelines will differ depending on the student, plan on spending at least 1–3 weeks brainstorming and writing the first draft of your college admissions essay , and at least 2–4 weeks revising across multiple drafts. Don’t forget to save enough time for breaks between each writing and editing stage.

You should already begin thinking about your essay the summer before your senior year so that you have plenty of time to try out different topics and get feedback on what works.

Your college essay accounts for about 25% of your application’s weight. It may be the deciding factor in whether you’re accepted, especially for competitive schools where most applicants have exceptional grades, test scores, and extracurricular track records.

In most cases, quoting other people isn’t a good way to start your college essay . Admissions officers want to hear your thoughts about yourself, and quotes often don’t achieve that. Unless a quote truly adds something important to your essay that it otherwise wouldn’t have, you probably shouldn’t include it.

Cliché openers in a college essay introduction are usually general and applicable to many students and situations. Most successful introductions are specific: they only work for the unique essay that follows.

The key to a strong college essay introduction is not to give too much away. Try to start with a surprising statement or image that raises questions and compels the reader to find out more.

The introduction of your college essay is the first thing admissions officers will read and therefore your most important opportunity to stand out. An excellent introduction will keep admissions officers reading, allowing you to tell them what you want them to know.

You can speed up this process by shortening and smoothing your writing with a paraphrasing tool . After that, you can use the summarizer to shorten it even more.

If you’re struggling to reach the word count for your college essay, add vivid personal stories or share your feelings and insight to give your essay more depth and authenticity.

Most college application portals specify a word count range for your essay, and you should stay within 10% of the upper limit to write a developed and thoughtful essay.

You should aim to stay under the specified word count limit to show you can follow directions and write concisely. However, don’t write too little, as it may seem like you are unwilling or unable to write a detailed and insightful narrative about yourself.

If no word count is specified, we advise keeping your essay between 400 and 600 words.

In your application essay , admissions officers are looking for particular features : they want to see context on your background, positive traits that you could bring to campus, and examples of you demonstrating those qualities.

Colleges want to be able to differentiate students who seem similar on paper. In the college application essay , they’re looking for a way to understand each applicant’s unique personality and experiences.

You don’t need a title for your college admissions essay , but you can include one if you think it adds something important.

Your college essay’s format should be as simple as possible:

• Use a standard, readable font
• Use 1.5 or double spacing
• If attaching a file, save it as a PDF
• Stick to the word count
• Avoid unusual formatting and unnecessary decorative touches

There are no set rules for how to structure a college application essay , but these are two common structures that work:

• A montage structure, a series of vignettes with a common theme.
• A narrative structure, a single story that shows your personal growth or how you overcame a challenge.

Avoid the five-paragraph essay structure that you learned in high school.

Campus visits are always helpful, but if you can’t make it in person, the college website will have plenty of information for you to explore. You should look through the course catalog and even reach out to current faculty with any questions about the school.

Colleges set a “Why this college?” essay because they want to see that you’ve done your research. You must prove that you know what makes the school unique and can connect that to your own personal goals and academic interests.

Depending on your writing, you may go through several rounds of revision . Make sure to put aside your essay for a little while after each editing stage to return with a fresh perspective.

Teachers and guidance counselors can help you check your language, tone, and content . Ask for their help at least one to two months before the submission deadline, as many other students will also want their help.

Friends and family are a good resource to check for authenticity. It’s best to seek help from family members with a strong writing or English educational background, or from older siblings and cousins who have been through the college admissions process.

If possible, get help from an essay coach or editor ; they’ll have specialized knowledge of college admissions essays and be able to give objective expert feedback.

When revising your college essay , first check for big-picture issues regarding message, flow, tone, style , and clarity. Then, focus on eliminating grammar and punctuation errors.

Include specific, personal details and use your authentic voice to shed a new perspective on a common human experience.

Through specific stories, you can weave your achievements and qualities into your essay so that it doesn’t seem like you’re bragging from a resume.

When writing about yourself , including difficult experiences or failures can be a great way to show vulnerability and authenticity, but be careful not to overshare, and focus on showing how you matured from the experience.

First, spend time reflecting on your core values and character . You can start with these questions:

• What are three words your friends or family would use to describe you, and why would they choose them?
• Whom do you admire most and why?
• What are you most proud of? Ashamed of?

However, you should do a comprehensive brainstorming session to fully understand your values. Also consider how your values and goals match your prospective university’s program and culture. Then, brainstorm stories that illustrate the fit between the two.

In a college application essay , you can occasionally bend grammatical rules if doing so adds value to the storytelling process and the essay maintains clarity.

However, use standard language rules if your stylistic choices would otherwise distract the reader from your overall narrative or could be easily interpreted as unintentional errors.

Write concisely and use the active voice to maintain a quick pace throughout your essay and make sure it’s the right length . Avoid adding definitions unless they provide necessary explanation.

Use first-person “I” statements to speak from your perspective . Use appropriate word choices that show off your vocabulary but don’t sound like you used a thesaurus. Avoid using idioms or cliché expressions by rewriting them in a creative, original way.

If you’re an international student applying to a US college and you’re comfortable using American idioms or cultural references , you can. But instead of potentially using them incorrectly, don’t be afraid to write in detail about yourself within your own culture.

Provide context for any words, customs, or places that an American admissions officer might be unfamiliar with.

College application essays are less formal than other kinds of academic writing . Use a conversational yet respectful tone , as if speaking with a teacher or mentor. Be vulnerable about your feelings, thoughts, and experiences to connect with the reader.

Aim to write in your authentic voice , with a style that sounds natural and genuine. You can be creative with your word choice, but don’t use elaborate vocabulary to impress admissions officers.

Admissions officers use college admissions essays to evaluate your character, writing skills , and ability to self-reflect . The essay is your chance to show what you will add to the academic community.

The college essay may be the deciding factor in your application , especially for competitive schools where most applicants have exceptional grades, test scores, and extracurriculars.

Some colleges also require supplemental essays about specific topics, such as why you chose that specific college . Scholarship essays are often required to obtain financial aid .

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Write About Yourself: Tips and Prompts

by Joe Bunting and Sue Weems | 199 comments

Start Your Story TODAY! We’re teaching a new LIVE workshop this week to help you start your next book. Learn more and sign up here.

When you have to write about yourself, do you hit a roadblock? If so, you're not alone. There are a number of situations when you have to write about yourself for school, work, or publication. Let's break down a few ways to make it easier and then use some prompts to get you started.

When Do You Have to Write About Yourself?

Several scenarios might require you to write about yourself from personal essays to job applications and biography blurbs. 

The key for each is to think about the purpose and the target audience. Then shape your personal history or life experience into a well-crafted piece of writing that meets those needs of purpose and audience. 

Let's look at a few of the most common scenarios where you have to write about yourself. 

Personal Essays

Personal essays aren't just for high school. A personal essay typically reflects some aspect of your life that you are sharing for a specific purpose. Many college applications or scholarship applications ask for a college essay or personal statement to help them get to know you as a student or applicant. 

If it's for a university or school application, you might write about:

• academic achievements
• personal accomplishments
• difficult experiences that helped you grow
• personal stories that relate to your desired field of study

Personal essays will have a friendly tone regardless of the essay topic. The personal examples you include or the personal stories you tell will need to be focused tightly on the audience and purpose. If you're trying to get into a university engineering program, you don't want to write about a pet's passing.

Your story of losing a pet is likely moving and will tell committee members about you and your personality traits, but it won't communicate why you might be a good fit for their school or program. 

If you're writing a personal essay for a course in narrative or memoir, then of course, your story of your pet's passing would likely be a solid choice. 

Personal Essay Prompts

1. Tell about a time you overcame a significant hardship.

2. Describe an interest that makes you lose track of time. 

3. Tell the story of an experience or person who changed the way you thought or lived.

4. Describe a time you overcame rejection or fear.

5. How has your community shaped you as a person?

Job Applications

More and more job applications include personal statement sections or questions that ask you to describe your professional experience in more detail. Job seekers are often used to listing out bullet points on a resume, so writing about yourself can feel uncomfortable, even in a letter of introduction. 

In professional settings and applications, you want to focus on four elements as you write about yourself:

• relevant experience
• recent professional accomplishments
• personal details that enhance your qualifications
• specializations

Again, keep your purpose and audience in mind. If you're having trouble narrowing down your relevant experience, consider looking at the job listing to see what they require of applicants. That way, you tailor your experience to what the position requires.

Some common job application prompts

1. Tell us about yourself. (They aren't asking about your favorite food or vacation last year! Focus on professional experiences.)

2. What are your strengths and weaknesses?

3. How have you managed conflict in former roles?

4. Describe your strongest professional accomplishments.

5. Why do you want to work here?

Remember, each of these questions is designed to help a company get to know you as a professional—share only relevant stories and details that align with that purpose. 

Author or Speaker Biographies

As a writer (or speaker!), you need an author biography to include on any publications. These can be short 100 word statements that give the audience a sense of who you are as a person.

Again, the purpose and audience matters. If you are a scholar writing and speaking on a topic in your academic field, it's appropriate to list your relevant degrees and major publications to build a sense of credibility and authority. 

If you're a fiction author, your biography will likely reflect a few personal details that are meant to connect with readers in a positive light. 

The best way to know what will connect with your intended audience, is to look at the biographies and About the Author pages in books like your own. 

A few things you might include in an author or speaker biography:

• where you live (generally speaking—not your personal address)
• themes you explore
• awards, recognition, or other publications
• relevant personal background info

You can see our full guide here on writing an author biography here .

Prompts for author or speaker biographies

1. What are the two most important things for your audience to know about you?

2. Find two authors writing in the same genre you are. Write your biography using their bios as models. 

3. What themes do you explore in your work and why are they important to you? Write them out, and then condense.

4. What experience or awards are relevant to your work? List them out and pick the top two.

5. Make a list of all the things that you likely have in common with your target audience. Choose two to include in your biography. 

How to Write About Yourself 

Whenever you're asked to write about yourself, take it as a challenge to share relevant personal experiences with vivid details and your unique point of view. Remember that you're not sharing your entire life story. Stick to short personal anecdotes and pay attention to your purpose and audience. 

How do you feel about writing about yourself? What tips have made it easier? Share in the comments.  

Choose one of the prompts above. Set the timer for 15 minutes and write about yourself without stopping. If you don't have an essay, job app, or bio to write, then simply try to capture something true about yourself and your experience in the world today.

When time is up, share your practice in the Pro Practice Workshop here and leave feedback to encourage a few other writers too.

Joe Bunting

Joe Bunting is an author and the leader of The Write Practice community. He is also the author of the new book Crowdsourcing Paris , a real life adventure story set in France. It was a #1 New Release on Amazon. Follow him on Instagram (@jhbunting).

Want best-seller coaching? Book Joe here.

Sue Weems is a writer, teacher, and traveler with an advanced degree in (mostly fictional) revenge. When she’s not rationalizing her love for parentheses (and dramatic asides), she follows a sailor around the globe with their four children, two dogs, and an impossibly tall stack of books to read. You can read more of her writing tips on her website .

199 Comments

This is one of my favorite ways to write 🙂 Except I like to use “you”, as if I am talking to myself and telling myself what I am doing or have already done.

He sits in his office chair, staring at the computer screen. In the cube next to him he can hear the sound of a coworker banging on a loud keyboard. The printer spits out paper after paper, other co workers talk and laugh. “I would never want to be a landlord.” “It’s not so bad.” The light of the mid morning day streams in behind him as he works on his assignments, filling in forms, completing spreadsheets, answering emails. Sometimes he thinks the entire job is all about email management. How did he get to this place, to this life? Simple, small choices add up until years later he finds himself bored and unenthusiastic about where he is. His cell buzzes next to him, notifying him of a text message. He checks it, hoping to see a message from his girlfriend but finds instead a message from his ex-wife. He ignores it. Chatter continues around him, papers turning, the mail delivery guy singing to himself pushing a squeaky cart down the aisles. Time passes under the glow of fluorescent lights and the hum of overhead heaters. The fan on his laptop starts spinning and he places his hand next to the computer to feel the warmth blowing out from it. Simple pleasures. He puts headphones on to drown out the noises and looks at his plan once again. The way out. Hope for a future of freedom and joy, real life, not the feeling of entrapment and stagnant death. It all begins with courage. The courage to face up to the difficult choices ahead, courage to face his fears, courage to be honest and real with himself and those all around him. It starts now.

I learned a long time ago that I am not trapped in any place in my life. I think the truest thing you said was to be honest and real with yourself. This certainly touched a chord in me.

I continue to learn that lesson. I’m glad the message touched you.

brilliantly inspiring. I don’t know if you meant for that. Like it!

I’ll take it, thanks!

i’m intrigued as to what the details of “his plan” are; like the mystery with which you end your last paragraph.

i might try deleting certain phrases to slim it down. for example, i might get rid of “notifying him of a text message” after “His cell buzzes next to him” and just end the sentence there, since in the next sentence you talk about anticipating a message from a certain someone.

“email management.” i like how it all reminds me of the movie office space but has more depth. thanks for sharing!

Thanks Sara, great feedback!

Josh, I recognized the office. In fact I think I worked there. Good job. I like your last sentance. “It starts now.” If you were writing about a fictional character would he get up and walk out of that office then?

You got it Vicki!

I love how you wrote your piece this morning. It shows your longing to discover who you want to be..

Here’s my attempt at it:

The morning starts as it always does, with the cold seeping into her bones. Although she is under the covers somewhere there is a gap in the covers because the cold invades her dreams. AS she wakes her thoughts begin to race as she wondered where her writing will take her. Which story will she choose and what will she learn about herself from her Characters today.

Because the cold works to sap her energy as she pulls herself from the covers, she sets her feet on the rug. She feels older then she is. Reaching for her robe she works to keep the dreams fresh in her mind so shemay write them on paper before they are lost forever never to resurface again. Until she is away from writing instruments.

With her eyes barely slits she shuffles to the kitchen to start her day. Knowing where everything is she begins the task of making coffee and waits impatiently as it heats. Finally with her cup filled she carefully moves to her desk by the window and takes a seat. Pushing the button that awakes her ‘baby’, she listens for the hum as it awakes ready to take in what her fingers type.

What will her writing revel to her today as she steps one step closer to discovering who she is, for she can only know these secrets when her fingers what no one else will see.

But we want to see the secrets. 🙂 I’m intrigued.

When I finish writing I will share with you, then we’ll both know. *smiles*

Good timing! This is the morning I am having. And having written this, I know what I am going to do.

My practice…

In a moment of utter frustration, she walked away from the computer. The story in her head wouldn’t form; it came out in bits and pieces.

She knew she needed more research but couldn’t find what she wanted. How do you explain a world when your perspective is that of a child? While the world swirled around her, she didn’t take notice. As a child, she didn’t care about things she couldn’t comprehend.

The story’s important. It’s a tale of innocence that was destroyed by events she didn’t understand. The story’s old. Ruth died 46 years ago. The anger at her death is old too but doesn’t seem to lessen. Sometimes, it seems like it happened yesterday. The images of the last day are clear. The sounds and the smells are as fresh now as they were then.

Again, frustration overtook her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to change her perspective to that as an adult. The child in her would not let go. It was easy enough to check dates and events but those were just the things that happened to other people outside her realm. In their small neighborhood, none of the global events affected them. They had been sheltered from the reality of the adult world.

Years later when she was able to piece the events together, she realized what had happened. She was angry all over again. And the child in her took over, raging at the adults who let it happen, who shattered the innocence forever.

“Screw this,” she thought. She sat back down at the computer and started to write. “I am going to write it from the child’s perspective.”

Yay! That’s what I was hoping for!

Throughout your piece I KNOW what you are writing about. The fact you were able to make me feel your pain and frustration, without actually describing the acts that caused them,

I really like your practice, Joe. Here’s mine:

Alicia should be ashamed of herself, but she isn’t. She should be working on her recent assignment but has yet to make it past 16 words, and she still doesn’t hate herself. Instead of getting paid to write, she’s spent the last hour writing about why she loves writing and reading about writing. Does that bother her? No. Should it? Probably.

Alicia normally has a full cup of self-discipline, but with the end of the semester approaching, she just wants a break, and it can’t get here soon enough. So she finds comfort on her couch, crosses her legs, and types whatever comes to mind through her fingers. She lets the writing consume her, take it where she needs to go, until she can muster up the energy to begin her assignment.

But the day is still young, and it’s quiet in the living room, with just the soft sound of running water in the fish tanks to calm her nerves. And while Alicia’s been stressing all week over her endless to-do list, she’s calm now because she gets to write about what she loves and learn how to improve her talents.

Alicia glances at the clock, and her heart flutters with annoyance. She had planned to finish her assignment before heading back to class, and now she only has an hour to research and write 675 words to meet this goal. She narrows her eyes. Will she be able to do it? Or will part of the article have to wait for later? She exits out of the extra tabs on her browser, even the pages she has yet to read, and prepares to settle down and get to the writing she should actually be doing.

Love that “the writing consumes her” and the “water in the fish tanks calm her nerves”. She “writes about what she loves”….the best reason to write!

Thanks for the feedback. I wasn’t actually sure how I did since I was in a rush.

She had been up for two hours and only after making picky- eating- nutritionally- acceptable breakfasts, appetizing yet balanced lunch boxes with the right sized plastic containers to fit every corner of the bento boxes, looking for toys, crazy loom bracelets, socks, shoes, super hero shirts, underpants and sweatshirts, negotiating every minute of TV watching and making up games to get everyone off to school on time, only then, she was able to finally sit and be herself. It took making sure that the 4th grader had the confidence to ask classmates to come to his birthday, even though they “think I’m weird” and that the 3 year old could look forward to playing with preschool toys instead of swords and handle being away from his mommy for at least four hours straight. It took giving more than what she had, setting aside her needs, her feelings, her frustration, her anger, her timing, her opinions, her natural inclination to wake up slowly into the world, to induce her children into a hostile world that had to contain them while she could become a person again. A person who had to reconstruct herself everyday at 9 am; reviving memories, making sense of goals and lost dreams, making sure she retained the spark in between errands and chimerical schemes.

[whew]. i feel like i got caught in the whirlwind with you.

Love all of it, but especially the lines, “It took giving more than what she had, setting aside her needs, her feelings, her frustration, her anger, her timing, her opinions, her natural inclination to wake up slowly into the world, to induce her children into a hostile world that had to contain them while she could become a person again. A person who had to reconstruct herself everyday at 9 am; reviving memories, making sense of goals and lost dreams” … you have captured many moms’ gut-wrenching feelings, and done us proud!

Been there, done that. I’m right with you on this. It is but a thumbnail sketch of a mother’s morning.

Ditto. My kids are grown, but you took me back. And your last sentence is spot on, with or without kids underfoot.

Her days are filled with projects and a certain urgency to life, a hurry to complete goals before time floats away. Her head is full of stories, imaginary and fully lived. A favorite time of day is retiring to the small office, just off the kitchen, where she writes. One wall of the office features an oil painting by her sister of a mountain scene, another photo depicts the Appalachian mountains with low clouds floating like angels across the peaks. A small window allows a glimpse of sky, a few leaves tumbling out of the roof gutter and the imprint of a dizzy bird which hit the window. Stories spill out of her mind as fast as she can type, with hesitation just long enough to find the right words to transfer an image to paper. The urgency is there: don’t let the memory fade, the precious moment escape before sharing it. Her heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for life itself. Sticky notes surround her desk: a reminder to read a new book, a list of stories to be included in a collection, several titles for her book, a reminder to run a backup disk of all her writing. Every week she reads books to elementary school children, pouring out her love of written words to children dominated by TV and the Xbox. Others her age have passed on to a different life. Time is precious. She considers the title for a blog, “Not Done Yet”.

so. i forgot to describe my surroundings. it’s been awhile since i’ve done a prompt! i think the last time was to help me get started on my personal statement, so maybe this one will rev me up again for the final onslaught/phases of my applications. thanks, joe. now i have to resist the temptation to revise this instead of working on apps. 😛

————————-

Desperate times calls for desperate measures, she thought as she clicked “Deactivate” on the screen. This might’ve been a good weekend to hole up in a cabin, somewhere in the Hudson Valley, maybe. But with what money? She’s trying her best to resist the plastic precious in her wallet.

She’s also trying her best to focus on the many tasks at hand. Revise her resume for one school. Send a Hail Mary email to a professor for a letter of recommendation. Write about how she would add diversity — convincingly, too; debunk the notion that there are enough Asian females in law school, and in law in general.

She also wants to do the right thing. Her heart has entered yet another spin cycle of “Does he like me like me?” She’s not tired of being wrong, she’s tired of the uncertainty. She’d rather know if he’s just not that into her — those late night text messages actually don’t count?! — and be put out of her misery.

But it’ll hurt anyway. Is it wrong that she just so happened to connect with someone else that might actually be into her? She thinks there might be something there…

But she still can’t forget how quickly the two of them connected. How they met twice in the span of one day. Who does that?

She clocked in at the library and went to sit down at the library’s little coffee bar. If she she was lucky she would have time to study in between customers… if she was lucky. Her eyes scanned the little library…. it looked like it would be a slow day. Time to study… but would she use it? It seemed forever ago since she had started the semester and now she was almost done… not really done though… school always just seemed to keep on going. Semester after semester…. year after year. “Study,” she told herself, but her mind would not focus. Too much had happened to not just take a moment to think about. Sometimes she wondered if God liked to see her scrambling so she could remember… remember Him. She’d had so many instances to turn her mind to God that week, too many times it felt like… and probably many more times in the future. She sighed. Study.

I can see myself playing this mental/spiritual game too.

She wakes before the clock radio starts muttering. Realizing that she slept through the night makes her giddy. Yes. All right! A full night’s sleep. The Holy Grail. She wakes rested and ready to take on the day, but not quite yet. Husband breathes deeply next to her in the king-size bed she loves. Day has not dawned, but there is enough ambient glow from night lights and electronics to take in the cloud-like expanse of their white comforter. This is her nest, her safe haven. She would be embarrassed to tell anyone how much she loves this retreat, with its cathedral ceiling, extravagant crown molding, paintings and family photos. It is hidden away in a corner of their townhouse that looks like hundreds of neighboring abodes from the exterior. And yet, even though she shares it, she coverts time alone here to read, to write. to muse.

Love this…can relate (except the husband part) … laughed out loud re: “She would be embarrassed to tell anyone how much she loves this retreat, with its cathedral ceiling, extravagant crown molding, paintings and family photos.” Men are not the only ones who have their caves! Your retreat sounds so cozy and I share your love for having my own comfy hideaway, my respite from a sometimes chaotic outside world!

Tami, I hadn’t thought of my retreat as the equivalent of a man cave. That made me smile and nod.

She might have been embarrassed to share how much she enjoys her retreat, but I’m glad she did. Loved that thought. And knowing people who struggle hoping to get a good night’s sleep, I understand giddy. I liked your piece.

Anne, Thanks for affirming that what I was feeling came across.

I empathize with the feeling of not wanting to move from your space, to actually enjoy what you’ve bought, cleaned, and decorated.

Thank you, Susan. It feels so good to know that my words connected with you.

She would always hide in the corner, and curse quietly in a funny little accent she wouldn’t dare identify if you remembered her name. She’s usually silent, invisible, and overly polite, but once you got her to start talking there was no end to her rapid fire run-on sentences, stretched analogies, and skewed logic, peppered with random facts acquired from a long reading history or else personal experience. Sometimes people gather around her and just listen, if they can follow, and it’s the only time they see her at all–when she’s rambling incessantly. She gets weird looks from everyone around her and it’s one of the only things in the entire world that make her smile. Ah yes! The humans think she’s an oddling! Cue the fanfare.

She’s willing to talk about almost anything, but sometimes certain things come up and she quiets right back down and doesn’t say another word for hours. Did you hear about that celebrity that just got diagnosed with cancer? How about that girl who killed herself? The dude caught dealing drugs and killed a cop? And what about that serial rapist they just caught?

If you looked closer, you might see the way she trembles. You might guess what sinister reminders it brought.

But she’s not talking, and nobody sees her when she isn’t talking.

I’m not sure why this doesn’t have more comments, because you’re certainly not silent in your writing.

Beautiful, beautiful! I can identify with her, silent and invisible, until she speaks, and people listen because her words are rare, precious and unique!

She lays back in the chair, hair still damp, her skin glistening. The smell of coconut oil conjures up tropical beaches and swaying palms; a strong contrast to the snow covered view through the window. As her eyes open, grey as the sky, she thinks of tomorrow. A fresh pot of coffee, followed by a quick pick up, and since the heavy chores are done the day will unfold as she chooses. She anticipates choosing to think about things that have not yet been thought. She anticipates the time to remember things that deserve remembering, and maybe some that do not. Perhaps since she’s been ‘good’ she can start now. After all, she can’t see the clock from where she sits so time is not really passing. It is better, she thinks, to measure time by what gets finished- a thought, a smile, a loaf of bread, a good book.

Very nice mood, here. I can totally picture it.

Thank you, Susan. Maybe now that the mood is down on paper, I can conjure it up on demand 😉

You’re welcome. I love writing that evokes (invokes?) mood.

Evoke vs Invoke- Initially evoke worked for me, the idea that the writing “calls up” a mood. But then your choice had me googling- and I like that invoke suggests an active calling, maybe even with incantations. And I see that I posted more than once in response to your initial comment….time for that second pot of coffee!

I’ll join you for coffee.

Thank you Susan. I liked hearing that you can picture the mood.

“After all, she can’t see the clock from where she sits so time is not really passing.” What a great line! An inner thought that probably all of us have felt, but never quite put into words. Thank you for sharing.

Thank you. This is my first prompt exercise and it is lovely to get feedback. I had recently had a conversation with a friend about the bane of electronics and clocks in our lives so I suppose that this thought has been brewing for a while. When I saw the 15 minute limit for the prompt, I ‘promptly’ turned away from the clock and so…..

What about the numbers that rule our lives?

Well, only if we let them….but truly, people impart a magic to the ‘right number’. Just look at how the media uses numbers: the TEN best, SEVEN most……

I was thinking of our numbers for social securiy, bank accounts, cellphones, passports, vehicle registrations, etc. Must admit they bring a sort of order to everything.

very nice description of your thoughts, feels like a calm mind

Thank you. I think that writing brings me calmness.

Those are wonderful measuring tools. Enjoyed this peaceful peace. Wondered if she was drinking a cup of tea as she sat there. Nice.

Thanks. And no, she was not drinking a cuppa. But the pot was set to boil.

Very simple, but very effective. I love her thoughts on time- just passing thoughts, but important all the same

“It is better, she thinks, to measure time by what gets finished- a thought, a smile, a loaf of bread, a good book.” I really loved this. The true value of time is found in the things that make it special.

13:23 to 13:38 She prefers numbers to words. The numbers maintain their meaning whether she says them or someone else tells them to her. She’s sitting outside this afternoon, warming in the sun, thawed out for the first time today. The sofa faces the garden, downhill and she sifts through the chores in her mind, the only way she knows how to avoid getting up, finding her garden gloves and walking down and through the gate to get dirty. But today she has limited time, a to do list perched on her desk reminding her to stay on task. Lunch has been eaten, dishes cleared away. It was bean soup, the same thing she’ll have for dinner tonight and the same thing she’ll have for lunch again tomorrow. She would be happy as a dog, eating the same food every day. She read and wrote on her lunch break instead of rushing back inside to sit at her desk and finish the lingering items. What was the use? There would never be a day without a long list if to do items. She abandoned her desk every day at lunch. She demanded outdoor sunshine, the smell of dirt and the sounds of birds and bugs, of leaves skittering across the pavement. The same wind that scattered the leaves made the chimes release their music. Planes roared over head at thirty thousand feet. The numbers would call her back soon enough. She’d arrange and rearrange them and send them off in different forms to different departments. She didn’t believe for a minute that anyone read or analyzed her numbers but since she was paid to do it, she worked the spreadsheets and calculator. One day she’d total everything up in a today package and start using words. A backlog was developing and she knew that one day they would have to come spilling out across pages and pages and books and books. The End

Yes, one day the words would have to come out. They can’t be jammed in there forever. I liked the wind that scattered the leaves and made the chimes release their music. I also like how she had to choose between numbers and words. Though I have made similar choices, I still prefer the words. They dance.

Numbers…the universal language…

I felt a bit wistful (on her behalf) reading this.

The Yahoo Mail waiting symbol chugged slowly in a circle as it pulled messages from who knows where. He wasn’t too worried or impatient, though. It had only been a couple days, and he was sure there wouldn’t be a response yet. Even if there were, he was prepared.

99.5 percent of new authors are rejected, he’d told himself a thousand times. And he believed it.

On top of that, he wasn’t crazy about his query letter. And, after reading his manuscript a hundred times over, he’d decided there were parts he positively hated. But this was a crucial step. Unlike all those other times in his life, he was saying, “Fuck you” to fear. It felt nice, and was especially easy this time, because he knew exactly what would happen. In fact, he was downright excited to get that first rejection.

I’m putting myself out there.

Smiling to himself, he clicked the “Check e-mail” button for the hundredth time that week.

This time, a new message appeared, and he gasped after reading the familiar e-mail address.

This was it. And he was ready. More than ready; this wasn’t even one of his favorite agents. He had decided to submit to a couple ‘middle of the pack’ agents, first. That way, he could hone, as needed, for the big dogs.

Not even bothering to take a breath, he clicked the e-mail and its contents flashed on the screen.

Dear author:

Blah blah blah blah blah blah Rejected blah blah blah blah.

Sincerely, Agent

He stared at the screen, wide-eyed. There it was, exactly as he had expected. And, exactly as expected, he tried to grin and nod to himself.

But something different happened.

For some reason, his neck faltered and his head hung like a corpse.

Then, before he could stop himself, he’d lowered himself to the desk. The second his forehead touched the cool metal, his eyes overflowed, and he choked a sob into his keyboard.

This is such a great portrayal! Though I haven’t gotten that brave yet, I can see myself acting and reacting just the way this guy does, even after he’s steeled himself for rejection!

Thanks!! This actually happened *today* :/ It’s a little exaggerated but the wash of emotions was definitely accurate. Oh well, it will get easier! And if I can be that brave (although I wouldn’t call it that, lol), anyone can.

He should just remind himself how many times some bestsellers were rejected. They say you don’t finish a novel, you abandon it. We’re always learning. Right till the moment when we write our last words and curl our toes.

Just a hint of light was showing through the datk navy roman shades. The three cats were already restless, anxious to be fed. Ghost, the smallest of the three, curled up next to her right ear purring loudly. Brother began to paw at her feet, nibbling on her toes. The third cat, pounced onto the bed, and curled himself onto her belly.

Pulling the covers over her head, she moaned. “I’m not ready to get up yet guys. Go away.” Flexing her right shoulder, she dislodged Ghost and rolled onto her left side. The cats, sensing her mood, quickly.vacated the bed.

Like a blow, the large empty space in her bed confronted her. This was where her husband should be. Instead, on the nightstand next to his spot sat a black box. It contained all that was left of the man she had loved for thirty.seven years. Seeing the box always caused her to sob. Crying was better than not having something of him with her. She reached over and touched the box. “I love you sweetheart.”

Slowly she swung her legs out of bed and sat up on the edge. The room around her was cluttered, dirty, and disorganized. She sighed and heaved herself slowly up, holding to the edge of the bed for balance. Already her back ached and hard pain shot down her left leg. As she reached for.her mefication bag her shoulder screamed, “time for.a pain pill.” Hastily.she swallowed a handful of meds. In thirty minutes she would feel better.

The boys were now milling around her feet, begging to be fed. First she bent and scooped the nights gifts from the litter box. Then, she filled thier bowl with dry food topped with a can of tuna. With her furry children content, she finally turned to her laptop.

Now was her time, in the quiet morning hours, to put words on a blank page. This was what kept her getting out of bed each day. This was the gift she gave herself, permission to create.

I like the “nights gifts from the litter box”.

She’s surrounded by her favorite entity – words. A long bookshelf mostly contaning classics, hangs overhead, winding the wall. Small hands with slim fingers type on the laptop placed on her lap. Though the room is dim, christmas lights hang around the window, cast a festive glow. The black coated corgi keeps her company, laying at her feet and occasionally popping up for a pet. The girl, for she is not fully a woman, bites her pink lips and runs her hands along her auburn hair when stuck for ideas. As she writes away in her second book, thoughts of doubt begin to creep in. For a minute, her hands stall and the fire drains from her green eyes when she listens to the lies. Is it worth it? Who would read it anyway? Success has been slim thus far, why would this book bring a different fortune? With a sigh she glances at the books behind her. Some of them are so tattered that the binding is becoming undone, so often has it been read. Very few of them are from this century and as she ponders why, she turns to her work again, mindful of her passion. She MUST write this story for the love of good literature, wholesome stories and beautiful writing. Though in many ways, she knows she lacks necessary experience, that is why she must write all the more. So that perhaps one day, she can contribute to the world that has helped her so, if not just to say thank you.

I love this picture! The Christmas lights around the window, the black corgi for company, shelves of old books for inspiration, small hands on the laptop. I’m a bit confused by listening “to the lies”? Maybe you could expand on that a little? Very touched by “she can contribute to the world that has helped her, if not just to say thank you.” Thanks for sharing.

I really identify with the “lies”, for that’s what many of our self-doubts are. Also the good books on the wall, I share that affinity, and very few of mine are from this century either! And writing as a thank-you to the world is a beautiful idea. Good work!

Thank you! I’m glad I’m not the only one 🙂

Isn’t that how it is for us writers? To be compelled to keep on writing, not knowing how successful we will be. We owe it to the craft itself, to write, not just to be published, but to become better. Good empathy.

As if swimming were not lonely enough, she ventures off to the beach for an open water swim. All by her lonesome. She and her sisters coined this part of the shore, “Lonely Beach.” It was where they went when they didn’t feel like being social or seen.

She waded in on a Sunday afternoon—the sky shrouded in gray humidity. Sharing the sand with an old lady walking a dog and a hippy wielding a metal detector, she sighed. Within the sigh she asked herself a question and then answered it. “Why do I do this? …You’re paddling the extra lap.”

She stood staring at her feet as the water washed over, their prints seeming like primitive clay monster feet. She crossed her arms, hugging each elbow in a palm. Her hair blew across her nose, causing it to itch. She paused to watch the guy deliberate over the metal detector. To her, it was an odd way to spend an afternoon.

Yes, she was stalling. There is a certain amount of psychological readying to taking the plunge. She bolstered herself, silently.

“You’re here.”

“You might as well get started.”

She thought that may be she was a lonely soul, an old soul. She craned her head over a shoulder to look at a vacant lifeguard stand, imagining a chiseled sun bleached body, shading his eye contact in Ray-Bans. The sign read, No Lifeguard—Swim At Own Risk. She was swimming, at her own risk.

I like the lonely feeling of the place, that certain stretch of beach, and the sense of looming risk that she stalls from facing. Her response to the sign — swimming, at her own risk — sounds like it could be a theme in the story. Good practice!

Thanks John. Yes, you nailed it. The theme for a story that is…

Hope this develops into a short story (.meant as one of the highest compliments) … want to hear more…want to know where this goes!

Thank you, Tami. I kind of cheated. This is part of a larger piece I’ve been working on for years. It was not an impromptu writing effort.

I was able to step into the image and the feelings you impart in the paragraph describing her staring at her feet, hugging her elbow,etc. Thank you.

Thanks JC. Again, writing can be so creatively charging!

Loved the primitive clay monster feet. I got to experience those when I went to Michigan with my daughter so you gave me a chance to revisit. And I almost felt like I had to brush the sand off my feet even now. Thanks for your piece. And stalling. I know stalling.

I liked how that came out too, Anne. Isn’t it great fun to create something out of the blue? Wouldn’t know it was there if I hadn’t started typing. And the word, ‘stalling’, I had to use that. It is a strong verb.

Mister Computer says it’s 34 degrees Fahrenheit. The rain hasn’t started yet; they’re saying it could be worse than at the 2011 Superbowl. If it sleets/snows, the office will be closed and he won’t have to go and repeat yesterday’s terrifying wrestling-match: answering calls, first-day panic, taking questions he didn’t know the answers to yet — he answered phones for the gubm’t for nine years through sheer force of will, Before. Does he have it in him to do it again? He kinda hopes it snows.

He remembers how much fun it was this morning helping with the produce at Seniors, wrestling three dozen frozen turkeys into an upright position so his partner could slip a wal-mart bag over it. He broke a sweat, he’d have you know. It’s good to work for your dinner.

It’s gonna be a tight couple of weeks due to car registration, high heat bill, just too much dang month left at the end of the money. But that sackful of food from this morning is gonna help a whole lot. He’ll make it. He always makes it.

He’s just a little less self-confident at the moment, with the new job, new people to deal with, and the memory of backing into that man’s pickup in the bank parking-lot Monday morning isn’t helping. He keeps worrying at it in his mind. His fault. Insurance likely to go up. Is he losing his edge? Should he give up the car and start riding the bus? Did it for five years in the ‘nineties, and has less problem with the idea than some would.

He’ll never get too old to make a mistake. And he’ll never escape change.

Definitely a man aging back and forth. I like the word picture you use in the first paragraph of the office zone being like a wrestling mat. I also like the line about too much dang month at the end of the money.

Aging back and forth, yeah, exactly, I like that! Age coming on, but the youth hasn’t left the building. Thank you!

Agreed, I loved the line “too much dang month…”. I actually did a double-take when I read it, thinking “huh?” Then it hit me and I smiled (maybe a little jealously 🙂

It’s amazing how self-doubt creeps in with age. That’s when you start taking a hard look at the person you’ve lived with all the years.

Yes, taking a hard look at that person — and still choosing to accept him/her! Self-doubt is a temporary state of affairs.

I can’t explain it, but I love the line (and the feeling that goes along with it), “He’ll never get too old to make a mistake”.

Today the flame went out. It had been slowly dying for quite some time. Flickering, waning… But always still there.

Today it gave up. It no longer had wind, wood nor heat. Today the fire died.

The wind should have come on the wings of laughter,

From whispered words of love, kindness and affirmation. From the sheer joy of knowing they had been SO blessed. But even then, Wind is not enough.

The wood should have been there too. It used to be. It was determination, commitment to their future together. Fuel is necessary, and it must come from

A renewable source, Unconditional and full of promise. They must have stopped gathering wood together.

The heat is gone too. Flames would sometimes rise, showing promise of the Once familiar fire… Sometimes it was all-consuming, Sometimes warm and comfortable. Now, it is neither. There is no wind, no wood, no heat.

He had big dreams, but she doesn’t know what they were. He didn’t share them with her. She’s not even sure he could because maybe He didn’t even know what they were himself.

She had dreams too…everybody does, right? Not lofty dreams, but good dreams still. And her dreams included him. What she thought they had together, Yesterday, today, and all her tomorrows.

She doesn’t know which happened first. Did the flame go out and she awakened from the cold? Or did she just become cold, And watch the flames die? All she knows is, today the flame went out. Today, the fire died.

Tami, This is so poignant. I want to mourn for what they have lost because they stopped trying and didn’t share their dreams and hopes.

Thank you, Marilyn. I realize it didn’t really follow the prompt directions, but sometimes, it’s just what comes out, ya know? Thanks for sharing.

I like the element of fire showing a relational climate. It was pleasant to follow your prose with the way you formed your lines, like a poem.

Thank you, Susan, for sharing your observation. It did, indeed, evolve into more of a poetry format, though not intentionally. I often write long hand — maybe how I process things — and I decided to use the same format when posting.here.

This grabbed me, a very interesting and well done way to describe a relationship and how it flickered away.

Tami, Great piece. Sadly it captures what my brother is going through. His plans included her. Hers did not. He’s hurting because the fire died. Also it reminded me of a song my son’s group just released. His words and yours run parallel. Enjoyed this.

She sits there, staring numbly into the computer screen of a random website. Noises of her father and brother are behind her along with their laughter and christmas music. But she just stares, thinking of her life, how she is beginning to see things differently. She thinks of the morning of school today, waiting for the bell to ring as her childhood friends laugh and just goof off but she just couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She yawned and just looked to her left, passed her closes friend’s face. Should she feel guilty that once she sees another friend she only known from her early years at the school she begins to laugh and enjoy herself? She questions herself in front of the computer screen. She blinks…then her mind travels to another problem:her dream. Her dream of writing short stories. She has good ideas and her mind won’t shut up but of course right when she grab that dreadful pen her mind suddenly zips up and her ideas hitch a train for nowhere. And that train would be reality.

The alarm rings, and she presses the snooze button every ten minutes for the next half hour. It’s early, way too early, but she finally gets up at 5:30 to the sound of classical music. Her chocolate lab watches as she rises, and she could hear his tail thumping against his mat. Adorable. By the time she goes downstairs, the coffee has already perked; its wafting aroma stimulating her senses.

By the time her husband comes down, the breakfast table is set, and they share the first morning brew along with some conversation. Once he’s out the door, things quiet down once again. Her mind wanders as she does the morning dishes., but as usual, it focuses on her afternoon down time because once the chores have been completed, she ensconces herself in her nook and writes. Once her imagination is liberated, it’s the highest kite she can fly…

The highest kite she can fly. Love it. I also loved the tone of your piece. It just quietly unfolded. And how nice to come down to a table set. I felt as if I were peeking in to see it all. Love the tone.

Thanks, Anne. That’s about how it unfolds.

Writing as the antithesis to chore. Love it!

Yes, JC, “antithesis” is an excellent word to describe what writing is to me as compared to other things. Thanks.

He could have taken the car to work. But that meant sitting in traffic, and a hefty slice out of your savings for the parking. After all, his retirement, or call it by its real name, retrenchment, loomed. At his age he’d never find anything. He sits on the upper deck, among all the youngsters. Not for the company, but for the view. From there he can see into people’s houses, how they scramble around to be in time at the office. He tried sitting downstairs once, but it wasn’t the same. He was lower than them; it felt as if they were watching him. So he went back upstairs among those boisterous youngsters, who spoke about which club they’d been to the previous night, and other mindless things. Energy is wasted on the young, he often thought. Rather give it to us adults, who’ve had a lifetime learning to put it to good use. On the way back there’d be those drunkards heading for that rough working class neighbourhood on the route He later found that if he buried his nose in a book they left him alone. And the noise faded into the background as the youngsters excluded him from their sphere of attention. Now that his pension days were around the corner he’d like to turn the clock back and do things he should have done. And undo those things he shouldn’t have. He’d spent his life as a passenger, becoming part of what went on around him by being a spectator.

And now it’s time to pull out all those treasures you’ve been storing up through all those years of spectating, sort them out, categorize them, and share them with the world. No time for retirement! You have work to do! I agree, energy is wasted on the young. Those of us with things to tell need the energy to do it!

Thanks for the advice.

The room is small, cozy. The air is still, having not yet been disturbed by the travels of the people still sleeping in the darkness. Looking out the window he sees the trees reaching up towards the grayish sky waiting for the rain as a young boy would be as he watches a ball falling toward him, anticipating catching it. His back is achy despite a few hours of rest. These 15 minutes of tapping on the keyboard a pleasant new exercise, for his brain if not his body. Despite the quiet of the day, the current task at hand, the single light on in the darkened house illuminating his desk he is struggling to keep his mind on the task at hand. So much work ahead of him in the next 12 or 14 hours. Shortly he will get up from this silent moment and awaken the day. Start the rushing process of making sure she is ready for the bus. A lunch to make, to approve of an outfit, breakfast to prepare, dressed warm enough for the day, the hair!, the hair is always the delay, even at a young age of 11. He marvels at how hair is a concern everyday for him despite him losing his 15 years ago. The anticipation of the craziness that is about to begin has his mind racing already, a warm cup of coffee adding to the adrenaline rush starting to kick in. He glances at the clock, 2 minutes and this quiet day will kick into overdrive very quickly. Off to the races, time to put the silence back to bed for another 24 hours.

I like that your writing cocooned you with silence at the start of the day.

She sits in the quiet. The darkness still surrounds her but she knows in time the darkness will give way to light. It always does. Oh sure, sometimes it takes its sweet time like when the cold embraces us. Days like today.

She pecks away at the keys watching stories slip out of her head. Wondering all the time how they got in there and then she remembers. She used to run to stories when life was hard, when life was scary. She ran to stories a lot.

And now she does what she has to do again. She waits. She waits to see if the test results are good for her brother. She waits to hear that the procedure went well. She waits to breathe again.

She can’t afford to lose any more people she argues. But she knows that she knows nothing compared to the one who holds the keys to life and death. She knows, but still she argues. It’s the one thing she can do. The only thing she can do.

And yet, there is this place inside her. This room that she goes to when she’s afraid. She sits there waiting and knows He will show up. And she won’t be alone. He always comes. He always sits with her when she’s afraid. Always.

He was there when she stood at her mother’s coffin at 16. There as she said goodbye to her father at 24. She was there as she revisited the cemetery again and again. Too many times to count and yet she does.

It’s easier to count the remainder. Two. There are just two left. There were five of us siblings and then Peggy was gone. Domestic violence. Brutal thief. But years in between another huge loss. And those years got her used to living. Well, kind of.

Then she saw cancer rip away one brother. Watched as it took his health day by day. Had to remind him he was dying when he’d say, “Get my coat, let’s go home.” And later he’s say, “Oh yeah, we ARE home.”

And then there was February when she sat in a hospital bed with anxiety. Something new that keeps pestering her life. Something that causes her blood pressure to spike when should flow steadily. Yes anxiety had visited her. Intruded and refused to leave.

Anxious about her one brother getting a heart procedure. Unaware another brother clutched his heart and died.

Two. There are just two of them left. And while she tries not to think about it, that thought bullies its way in her mind and pushes out all the other thoughts. No thoughts like to be bullied.

She sits quietly and as she suspected she senses His presence. And hears His voice remind her she is not alone. He’s right there beside her. Just as He promised He’d be. And He never broke one of His promises. Not one.

Anne, this line caught me: ‘She can’t afford to lose any more people she argues,’ yet not in the way that I think you intended. I guess I put myself in her place. I mentally added the word, ‘with’ at the end of that line. As if the people, or God himself, being the ones we argue, love, and struggle with are the ones who cost us the most. They are the ones that we stand to lose the most of ourselves. Like a part of us dies with each one.

I should have put a comma after the word “people.” She is arguing with God.

I wasn’t correcting you. I got what you were saying, I just liked the twist of arguing with everyone, including God and self. hugs…

Sorry, Susan. I didn’t mean for it to sound abrupt. I was actually angry at myself for not putting in the correct punctuation. I also like the twist of arguing with everyone. Thanks.

Anne, You introduced us to a lifetime of grief and loss so great that it could rip your soul apart.

And except for the fact God was in it, you’re right. And do you know what he brought out of it? Poetry.

Thank goodness that you have experienced Him — so much love !

Joe, Loved your piece. There were so many things about it that made it alive. Loved the continual thankfulness that just had to ooze out of you. Absolutely loved how you ended your piece. The piece just flowed so evenly. Actually inspired me to even sit down and take part.

Thanks Anne. 🙂

So, here he sat again in front of the screen. Open the last page of his book. Words appearing in succession, staining the whiteness with characters burping from the brain.

For some time now he was aphasic to open it, almost scared. He might have turned on, to check emails and to play solitaire, but even that reluctantly. Many, some several months old, particularly those related with writing were loitering in the list of unopened mail. There was no reason for it.

A slap of life had smashed all desires to write.

I have to commence writing again. Now! And in the same sentence: Why write? It will not contribute to be alive. Arg! Too damn trumpery and useless! Thought of impotence heaped his mind. Had a bad mood, even snappy. It took awhile for him to grind down the disappointment and in the end accept he had to live a life whatever the circumstances. The end will come soon enough.

Some days ago, he started again reading the book with an earmarked leaf, which was lying around for a while. That night, he couldn’t sleep, and for him, reading was the best somniferous. Soon, ideas invaded the spirit, and he made notes, searched words, concentrated in modisms. That night and many after, he did not sleep enough.

Bad habits were kicking in again.

But there was a difference. He realised, just today, a big difference. Before, when his wife asked what he was doing, the answer had been: Working! Nowadays he says, Writing!

What a difference a misfortune makes!

Misfortune? Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? He remembered the old Chinese saying.

The energy is back with vigour. Carelessly ignoring the numbness his backside and the urge of nature. Barely walking to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He has to prepare it. It takes too long. Better, some water, he decides and is back to the frantic clicking on the keyboard in one corner of his bedroom. The music plays away. It’s cold. His heart has, though, been warm and palpitating to the rhythm of the script.

Hey! Of that, life is all about!

I love what you wrote….a bit of mischief is getting ready to happen, I think…..

Here is what I wrote for 15 minutes:

She sits at the desk in front of the laptop almost everyday. But nothing comes to her mind. There is too much going on around her – even the dog and cat prevent her concentrating on what she needs to say – what she must say. There is a story inside her somewhere. But she has no time to dwell on its location, to find out where in the body or mind such a story could be. She is a writer. She has always been a writer, even if she rarely puts pen to paper. She has been a writer since she was very young, sitting on the back porch on a hot summer day with nothing but chores to do.

She used to wonder about eternity. The concept of eternity was troubling her when she was only eight or nine years old. Sitting on that back porch in the heat of the summer in Dallas, wondering about eternity. She would imagine the world never, ever ending, like the nuns told her classmates and her, but somehow she could not get a true connection. What would eternity look like, she wondered, forgetting that she was only in the third grade…what could it be like?

Well, it had to be better than just sitting on the back porch, waiting for her mom or dad to come yell at her for not doing anything. They had small patience for little girls, especially for her, since she was the eldest girl in the family and should be helping her mother to care for the younger kids. Man, what a life for a kid! But that is what an adult would have thought, had an adult been sitting on the porch with her, sharing those eternal thoughts. Kids had not much of a past, so they had little to refer to. Still, she knew that whenever there was not much work to do, the little kids were asleep, and she had finished her homework (funny that she could not remember doing homework, for the most part!), she ought to have a bit of time for herself. Time to swing on the swing set before her dad opened the screen door and hollered for her to get her butt inside and do more work.

Little did she know, however, what lay ahead. And that was definitely a good thing. A damned good thing. Because if she had known even a little bit, she might have found the courage in her heart to take a short cut while walking home from school and end up elsewhere.

Funny because I’m listening to Above and Below, which seems to go along with this.

Where would I find “Above and Below”? I am a newbie here. Thank you for your comments.

It’s by The Bravery and there is a moon version and a sun version. Youtube has both.

The murky shape of a fish torpedoes through her peripheral vision and is swallowed by the clouded lake waters. She cranes her neck in its direction, hair following suit in a dull golden cloud and coming to rest in front of her eyes. Her back arches as she kicks deeper where pressure begins to replace sunlight and the sandy bottom full of discarded clam shells beckons as a silent refuge. Her elbows come to rest against the gritty surface as she releases her air from its chambers, watching it flee to the surface in a shimmering cloud of light. She could beat it if she wanted to; kick up from the bottom and satisfy the dull ache in her chest, but she doesn’t want to. Not yet anyways. She closes her eyes and the water seems to disappear, swaying around her with the same heat which runs in her veins, melting itself against her skin until the two are indistinguishable. She could lie here forever, in her secret, dim world. But it isn’t hers. Her lungs tighten to remind her that hers is up there, into the sun which shines so far away from this place. She jumps off the her throne of sand, rising into the surface.

You must know something about diving. I would not have been able to create this scenario without having been underwater myself. Good job !

Thank you, It’s one of my favorite pastimes and I bought my first monofin last summer.

She wakes reluctantly, feeling him stir by her side. The familiar feeling of heaviness returns as the reality of their life now seeps into her consciousness through the last wisps of sleep. Further rest will elude her now. Should she get up and try to use the time when he is asleep to do some writing? She is bone tired, but she knows there will be little chance for time alone later in the day. She turns to watch him sleeping and thinks of other Saturdays when he would be first to wake, always active, vital. Perhaps after some leisurely lovemaking he would return to her with a cup of tea and her favourite – hot buttered toast with marmalade. Then off to get the paper, maybe stop for coffee on the way. Now he can’t get out of bed by himself anymore or pee alone. This horrible disease is taking its time to kill him. She watches his dear face, at peace in merciful sleep for a while. She is sad but angry too. Maybe she will get up and write, despite her weariness.

While I have no really experience of what this is like your writing doesn’t use such fancy words that make it seem like a show. Yours seems real, but still showing how you feel underneath the words. I like it.

She stood at her computer, wishing she could feel comfortable in her own body. The room is lit with natural light and her husband is listening to the book Wise Blood on AudioBooks. She needs to jump start her energy, needs to get her blood moving. The calendar tells her it really isn’t good day to do anything, unless it is to work on her own set of personal challenges – releasing her bad habits, for god’s sake.

How does one work on one’s bad habits, she wonders. They are there, the patterns of behaviors. She circles around them and then gives in to nap. It is like earlier this week when her calendar asked her to retrieve her soul. Retrieve her soul? That is a long process, but she tried. She went through every memory she had – sitting on the front porch when scarcely older than a toddler, wondering what is infinity. Come here, little girl, she entreated. She remembered the last time she wet her pants after they stopped letting her wear diapers; squatting under a shrub, being amazed there was no diaper to catch it. Come back to me, she asked. Playing in her sandbox, riding her bike for the first time, climbing a skinny tree to get away from either a small snake or a big worm. Come back to this big empty spot in me, she asked. The memories of her life flooded her and with each memory, she invited herself home. Some of the memories weren’t so good and she hadn’t behaved admirably. She invited that girl back too. Get them all here, retrieve them, she told herself. Before long, all the retrieved people she could ever remember being gathered in her solar plexus and built a bonfire. They raked the coals around. This made her nervous. She wanted to fill that hole, not burn a bigger one. Oh well, all those soul pieces were in charge of this, not her. Just let it happen and she did.

Is she more whole now? More of one cloth? Who knows. There is an ache in her left back side. She feels full, lethargic. What are her bad habits? Is procrastination really that bad or is it her creative process? Certainly eating potato chips, her new vice since quitting gluten, could be something she skipped today.

Her husband stops listening to his story and comes over to the computer and wants to talk about the parade Saturday and had she told her youngest granddaughter they were staying in town, so now they could all go to it. Leave me alone, she finally explodes. Just 15 minutes, that is all I want. 15 minutes to write this exercise. And it is done. He goes away and the 15 minutes are gone.

Sorry for posting so late on this. I loved the exercise! I did it a day late and then my internet was down for an entire day. Finally this morning, I have internet!

She sits, reclined on the couch, trying to escape reality for the umpteenth time that week. Not that it’s been a hard week, or that she doesn’t love her life or anything, she’s actually enjoying life; she just likes to pretend it’s different sometimes. She picks up the book on the table and shimmies down into a position that says, “leave me alone. I’m reading.” A frown crosses her face as she struggles to drown out the sounds of her five younger siblings and piano-playing dad by immersing herself into a different world.

Later she will probably try to drain her emotions through writing, allowing the paper of her beloved notebook to carry some of the burdens weighing on her heart. Typical teenager burdens: love, hate, wonder, and longing. Regret too. And Nostalgia. All of these mixed up feelings trapped inside her will flow out onto the blank pages in inky words that will somehow sooth everything. She’d like to think she was unique, but she has the same problems as every other teenage girl. And then some.

Left to her own mind is much too dangerous these days. It’s a trap that ensnares her at her weakest times when she’s alone. Which is most of the time. There are certain people who help her though, and she’s seen them all this week. The greenish grey eyes of her best friend. The grey ones of her beloved music teacher. These are the people who put a little bit of light into her dark mind and draw her back into reality: the good reality. They keep her safe from the trap her mind has set for itself and remind her that love is a very big part of life. Not being loved necessarily, but loving. Being the one TO love is what matters most and it makes all the difference.

She lays with her knees up, covered in three army surplus wool blankets and an old, yellow stained feather blanket she’d known for years, though it wasn’t hers. Her bed, which takes up most of the room, is on the floor, the bare dirty white walls sometimes remind her of one of those old, padded asylum rooms. The kind that don’t exist anymore. And while that might have once really bothered her, even scared her, it amuses her now.

The room sits in the back half of the “house,” which is actually an old trailer, half of one, where they used to hang the plants to dry. The front half of the house is wooden, with wooden walls and floor and a high ceiling. Behind her, cold air comes up through the cracks between the wall and the chipping lanoleum floor. Last night, she had made a feeble attempt to remedy this with another rolled up wool blanket, but then figured out that a sheepskin did the trick.

It’s her idea of luxury. She’d been sleeping on the floor for years, with intermittent mattresses here and there, but she preferrs the floor. Maybe it’s just that it reminds her of the last place she called home, where they slept on the floor, and ate meals together in a circle around a fire or a woodstove. Where things made sense.

The house is finally quiet. It’s her favorite time, when she doesn’t feel the pull of anyone. Somewhere inside of her, the tug of an impending decision making time. She has no idea where to go from here. This little room, which for some reason she can remember seeing for the first time three years ago, when it was filled with April’s willow baskets and craft making materials, is starting to feel like hers. Even the weather seems to be comforting her here all of a sudden.

Fall in Northern California is strange for her, someone who has never missed a real winter. It’s sunny and warm, and her body kept expecting the change. Something, anything to signal that it was this time of year, and not another. But it never came here, and it felt like she was somehow stuck in time. The wintery slant of the sun was strange in the heat. Finally it changed.

This morning she sat outside on the porch, the sun just barely coming over the horizon but nowhere near her, those huge, intimidating redwoods stood in the east and shaded everything. Her afternoon cigarettes were the time where she could find a tiny patch of sun. this morning the wind howled, and she put on a wool hat and wool shirts and felt the crispness, and imagined brown leaves falling. She had never been so happy for a brisk morning chill. And wind, actual wind, blowing a fall hello. Her body swayed with it as she smoked her cigarette and the smoke didn’t matter. She didn’t want to smoke with all this weather calling .

She needs to get back to that piece, due tomorrow morning. She hears Susan sneeze in the other room, and Chris beside her shifts. They whisper to each other, and then go silent. She hears the hot water heater, and feels at home.

I like the phrase about her room – “where things made sense”.

Her childhood was a happy one, filled with pine forests and pussy willows, shading trees and deep shadows, bright sunlight and fairies. Her mind was a blessed country where music filled the air and magical creatures were waiting with secret smiles around every corner, offering new adventures. A little sister was a ready and willing companion in her exciting fairy world.

As she grew, reality pressed in with dawning dismay. Too late, she discovered that her childhood world had been one of the imagination, and in the business of growing up the door grew narrower until it closed altogether. The only way she could alleviate the anguish was to write – anything and everything.

Her one delight in the agonizing world of puberty became a pure white sheet of paper before her, and a pen poised in readiness. It was only then that her soul could be at ease.

With her teenage years came the realization that she must find an identity for herself, or perish, and that involved searching with every bit of strength she possessed.

The search lasted for many years, tumultuous, exhausting and filled with some bitter sorrows and some unspeakable joys, but the search bore fruit. She discovered who she was at last!

Outside her office window the sun is blazing. The temperature is frigid, below freezing. Her garden appears shocked, the plants struggling to breathe outside of their designated zone. Whoever decides what will thrive through winters in the Pacific Northwest probably didn’t have a day like today in mind.

The sun is a mixed blessing for her. In her chest she wants to run outside, through her arms open wide and hug those rays for the weather forecast indicates the usual gray clouds will return in just a few days. Yet, she looks at her desk. A half-done presentation awaits, due on Monday. Follow-up with a creative team on her new website is tugging at her “let’s play inside” persona. And then there’s the prospect of a trip to Costco to get the wreath, the garland … the overdue beginnings of the whole holiday decoration process. In the next room her husband lingers over the New York Times. They only subscribe to the Sunday edition so she looks forward to that leisurely read every week (and, she just learned, having something to look forward to can increase your personal baseline for happiness).

Happiness, she decides, shows up physically today. Sun rays streaming through the window. A second cup of coffee resting on her desk. The prospect of unpacking the Christmas decorations makes her smile inside. Finding a place for the crystal snowman, the mantletop garland, the collection of German smokers – a yearly ritual that signals the holidays have arrived, along with that endless of to-do’s that never quite get done.

WOW ! I love especially the image of the sun streaming through the windows. And yes, we have the have just the perfect place for each Christmas item, don’t we? I wish I could read more !!

First job on a dark winter morning: tending fire. The fires of evening languish after midnight and leave the big house chilled in this snow country. She is the designated early riser.

She stirs hot ash to wake red coals, then adds wood scraps that in a moment will blossom into flame. Coffee goes on while she waits. Once the fires start up again she adds firewood, small and then larger pieces. When they catch she damps the flow of oxygen back down for a slow burn. The fireplace in the family area is first, followed by the wood stove in the entry way. Family first.

A glance outside the window answers the pivotal question: is it falling, blowing snow today, or are bright snow fields already dimly visible down the hill? Her favorite is dry snow that glitters under the sun. It’s like a field of cool white velvet thickly strew with tiny opal chips.

Maybe this will be that kind of day. Warmly dressed now, she does a few minutes of yoga while the others stir and wake. An hour before dawn, with the sounds of day rising and the first cup of coffee in hand, she sees a small herd of deer cross the field below. They are graceful dark silhouettes in the dusky blue. As a small child she once cried for wild things outside in the snow, at the unfairness of it all, and sometimes she still wonders how they manage. Often, she knows, they don’t. Perhaps that germinal sense of fairness has wandered over time. Perhaps it’s merely been polished by emery grains of experience.

These deer, though, seem lively and inquisitive, at ease in their travels today, unperturbed by human habitation near by. Her kitchen is warm, bright, and yellow, and there’s a day of writing ahead.

Jealous of that morning routine! Maybe I wouldn’t be over time, but it sounds like such a perfect way to ease into the day: a little work to get a fire going. Some exercise. Then recollection.

Thanks, Brett. I’m a little conflicted about it, though. Having read some of the stunning entries here (plus almost all of Glimmer Train Issue #89, which to my mind has kind of a bleak feel) this little practice piece seems “fluffy” in comparison. I’ve taken it aside to give it more than 15 minutes. Notwithstanding my encultured training to convert lemons to lemonade, the hand of a darker angel rests on this character’s shoulder. It deserves observation. These prompts are great practice, but I think practice only works for us to the depth we actually dive.

It’s 5:49am and about 39 minutes behind schedule. My coffee never seems to be as warm as I want it to be. By the time I top it off and sit back down, it feels like it needs to be nuked.

The Bible and journal next to me, open to Isaiah. It’s mostly confusing to me right now, but slowly meaning pops out. My car journal is to my right. It’s a little spiral bound notebook that I keep in the car while I listen to podcasts. Texting and driving is unsafe, but I hope note taking on the center console isn’t. The laptop is open between them.

The lights are off and I’m typing in the dark. This space between 5:30am and 6:00am is tricky in our house. One of my children, were I asleep, would wake and crawl into the big king bed between my wife and me. But since I’m up, he might hear me and come downstairs for some attention.

I’m selfish. At least, I try to be selfish prior to 6:00am, or 6:15 if I play my cards right.

Across the dining room table is a my belt, my t-shirt, a children’s Bible, and a couple spiral notebooks that the kids like to write in. Plush green and white candy canes barely visible, are hanging in the dark underneath the light fixture.

I know the condensation is puddling around my water glass. This is my second day trying to write first. 500 words daily before I do anything else. I should probably get an earlier start and take a walk or do some stretching. It always seems I’m much more inspired after some early exercise. My brain seems to function. I’m using this prompt from deep in my Gmail because the cupboard was bare. And writing as a discipline, apparently, is tough the first couple mornings especially since I don’t have a clear end game. The last thing I want to do is write for work. And I’m not excited to write for my personal blog that centers around living a simpler life. And the blog on the url for my name has been in technical difficulty for over a year.

Consequently, I’m on Evernote practicing.

It’s 5:49am and about 39 minutes behind schedule. His coffee never seems to be as warm as he wants it to be. By the time he tops it off and sits back down, it feels like it needs to be nuked.

To his left is the journal open stacked inside the Bible, also open, opened to Isaiah. That ancient book is mostly confusing to him right now, but slowly meaning pops out. His car journal is to his right. It’s a little spiral bound notebook that he keeps in the car while he listens to podcasts. Texting and driving is unsafe, but he hopes note taking on the center console isn’t. The laptop is open between the two books of records.

The lights are off and he’s typing in the dark. This space between 5:30am and 6:00am is tricky in their house. One of his children, were he asleep, would wake and crawl into the big king bed between his wife and him. But since he’s up, his young son might hear him and come downstairs for some attention.

He’s selfish. At least, he tries to be selfish prior to 6:00am, or 6:15 if he plays his cards right.

Across the dining room table is a his belt, my t-shirt, a children’s Bible, and a couple spiral notebooks that the kids like to write in. Plush green and white candy canes barely visible, are hanging in the dark underneath the light fixture.

He knows the condensation is puddling around his water glass. This is his second day trying to write first. 500 words daily before he does anything else. He should probably get an earlier start and take a walk or do some stretching. He always feels much more inspired after some early exercise. His brain seems to function better. He’s using this prompt from deep in his Gmail because his idea cupboard was bare. And writing as a discipline, apparently, is tough the first couple mornings especially since he doesn’t have a clear endgame. The last thing he wants to do is write for work and his insurance blog. And he’s not excited to write for his blog that centers around living a simpler life. And the blog on the url for his name has been in confounding technical difficulty for over a year, so that’s not an option.

Consequently, he’s on Evernote practicing.

The coffee part was funny. Towards the end you wrote me instead of he. Also I did not like the last paragraph as much of the rest of the story. Maybe there are too many details in it. I’m not sure. The writing overall is good and I can feel the balance between being dutiful to the family and also having a special time to do one’s own work. And the grappling with is it selfish to hope the boy stays asleep a little longer.

He knows the condensation is puddling around his water glass. I think it would be better to say: Condensation is puddling around his glasses. He knows feels like it slows it down to me.

He wants to be a writer. He knows wanting to be a writer is not the same as being a writer. He sits in front of the laptop every morning before the birds have begun singing, before the sense of duty comes alive to distract him. But he always ends up posting, commenting, arguing.. on the facebook, anything to avoid actually writing. His other hobby is reading. He reads everything, with no discrimination. His childhood heroes were not cricket players or action heroes, but writers. While his friends admired Amithabh Bachan and Kapil Dev, he worshipped R K Narayan and Arthur Conan Doyle. In his dreams, he saw himself publishing Sherlock Holmes stories. But he could never convert these dreams to reality.

The moment he cherished most from his childhood was when he won a writing competition inschool. More than the prize itself, what he remembered was the praise he got from a famous writer, a judge for the competition. Yet he could not write.

Recently, he suffered a mental break down. It dawned on him that he wa 40, he had passed the prime of life, perhaps crossed the half way mark. He realized with surprise that he could not recapture time, recreate the past, that he was locked in a day time job that he loathed, that he was also shackled by the sense of duty from which thete may not be any escape.

very moving, and throughout I could sense the struggle and the longing to be formed and changed (thinking of a caterpillar/butterfly) seeing what you know you need to be, but also feeling not there yet. And then the sad realization of not being able to go back in time was a good ending paragraph.

All around her, the air was still. Not just still, but paused, muffled. All the world seemed to be put on mute. It was probably because of the snow outside, padding the roads and the sidewalks with white fluff. She didn’t mind- the quiet was a nice break from the noise and the cluttered mess. She sits beside the window this morning, curled up into a tight ball underneath a patchwork quilt, in a too-large chair. The heater is blowing out warm air besides her, and she can’t help but be a little reassured at the gentle hum of it running. Not that she needed it- her dachshund was curled up in the crook of her legs, acting like the miniature space heater she was. She couldn’t sit there forever, she knew. As she typed, the list of things she needed to do pressed on the front of her mind with continuing urgency, barrating her with a buzz of reminders and loose ends. But a little time for herself couldn’t hurt, could it? A thin strand dangled in front of her eye, and she blew it aside in mock irritation. Maybe this wasn’t the best time for this. Maybe this was just her way of procrastinating while she had real work to be done. That was very probable, and very like her. She knew there were real things to do, things that had to do with nasty words like ‘school’ and ‘chores’, but for the moment she was fine with brushing them off with a flick of her wrist and delving deep into her writing.

good job using the five senses so someone can really feel your environment. That makes it cozy. And even though there is a lot of stuff that the writer knows will have to get done, you could feel how she was still very immersed in her writing, and not getting overly stressed by it.

She sits at a funny little place – too small for a window seat, too large for a windowsill. Her cheeks press against the cool dampness of the glass, her fingers curled into the nails which she had been painting a few hours ago. It was the holidays – she should be relaxing, why was she agitated anyway? There wasn’t any homework assigned anyway. Her family ignore her and her own little ramblings, they only treat her ponderings and opinions as ‘teenagerdom’ and something ‘bound to change when she grows up’. They’re too busy in front of the television, intent on ‘The Wizard of Oz’, unaware of the clock ticking on the wall, that the children they have in their arms will eventually be doing the same. Perhaps it is only her who can glimpse into such thoughts. Perhaps it’s due to how she is in that time in adolescence when you know that you’re going to grow up, and that you’re nervous about what it will bring. Perhaps… She slides off the seat, and plops onto the sofa. Her younger sibling comes to her lap, bringing the scent of warm milk and love, something which will outlast all time. She smiles. Love, which can outlast all time.

yes. I like this. The writing is good, it doesn’t have unnecessary words. And also I like how you go into the feeling of fear of growing up and leaving what is known and people loved.

He, sits. He thinks. He ruminates. What is he doing with his life? Come Jan 24, 2014 and he would be completing 23 years of existence on planet Earth. But what has been accomplished so far? A bachelors degree, a film school diploma and now on his way to gain his Masters in Marketing and still he doesn’t feel very accomplished with himself. Still leaving at home, feeding of Dad’s income with absolutely no work experience as such, was he worth anything?

The fact that the girl he really had a thing for not only rejected his romantic advances but went on to say that “I will never like you” didn’t help his cause. He needed to find his ‘eureka’ moment where he finds the true purpose of his life. Maybe it lies in the world of words. Maybe that’s why his heart always kept tugging at this direction but he was too lazy to sit and let the words flow. Maybe it’s time for him to realise that there is no point in trying to rush and see what his future is going to turn out like. Live life and Just let it be.

I could really relate to this and the feeling of not yet being there, at that place where one wants to end up.

The blue chair was her throne, her childhood home her castle. Right now, just for right now, there were no doors opening and closing. No pounding on the stairs as parents and/or a brother made their way to the second floor. Not even the hum of the dishwasher or the thump of the washing machine intruded into her time.

All she heard was silence. That blissful, marvelous silence that came from just being. Not doing or crying or wondering or worrying. Just being.

For these few minutes, she could pretend. Pretend that it hadn’t been almost a year since she had to move back home. Pretend and remember what it was like to live in her own space, among her own things, free to think her own thoughts or even to dance in the kitchen with no one watching. If she wanted to, she could even watch an entire episode of “Glee” without any eye rolls or scoffs thrown her way. Or questions. She was so relieved, really, to have this time without questions about how had her day been, and who did she eat lunch with, and why did she like this show or that so much, and had she heard from so-and-so lately?

Not even the temptation of having the family TV all to herself was enough to pull her away from her words. The words were there, always waiting. She just had to sit still long enough to see them. To feel them, run her hands over them, testing their strengths, their weaknesses.

She wasn’t always sure of what she was writing, or why she was. “Writers write to be read,” she remembers telling a friend, many moons ago. But somewhere along the way, she stopped. The writing fizzled, save for a sporadic blog post here and there. She didn’t remember when, exactly, but she had lost herself, and was always, always in search of the She she used to be.

The blue chair didn’t have any answers. Neither did the blue walls, or the red mantle. My mother is a colorful woman, she thought. The fake greenery arranged artfully around the room also offered no secrets, no clue to the person she was looking for.

So she ignored them all — the reds, the greens, the blues — and leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The searching could wait another moment. For now, there was just being.

This was really intriguing and interesting to me.

Love the opening line

Life is complicated for her, if not physically, then on the inside. Between work stress, school priorities, and guys, she doesn’t always make time just to talk to God, and often suffers for it. She struggles with finding her identity. Her family is always supportive and loving, and that gives her strength and hope.

She is inside now. She wishes she were drinking coffee but she thinks it a waste of time to make some for just a few spare minutes of writing. She loves the outdoors though. She also loves people. Everyone coming from different places with different ideas, many she had never thought of. She loves how life changes. But she is starting to realize somedays things don’t seem to change. At least not for her, not always. Someone told her once life doesn’t hand us a new lesson until we first master the one given. Perhaps she was stuck on something. But perhaps she just expected too much from the universe.

Her garden is being eaten away by bugs, and she has been working to get ahead of it. And even though she had gotten the bugs under control, the plants look damaged and many have died. Can the plants catch up and be in time for the harvest time, she wonders.

This one is actually quite, quite mad, but I’m literally just writing the first things that come to me on these prompts!

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22, single, Bristol! Straight up social construct looking for love. Seeking the sort of love that can be conceived of as a ‘lagoon’ or ‘oasis’. Enjoys music and gambling, always up for a PARTYYY! Young displaced whisper floating among suburban streets. Massive Kanye fan, second biggest hero probably Messi!! Youthful fun-lover carried invisibly by a discourse I can’t remember. Travelling, traveller forever <3 .

he was lying in bed. another day is over.every night it occurs to him that he hadn’t been giving much attention to the the passing of days, to opportunities he missed. but then he admits that counting them wouldn’t really make a difference. you’d think it will end there and he’d go to sleep now, but it never does, because he always needs to do something about it or at least think about doing something about it. why is it that he never feels satisfied at the end of the day? may be because he’s not doing something he likes, may be because he is not doing anything, or may be because it doesn’t matter what he does as long as it is HE who’s doing it. he’s not dissatisfied with life, he’s dissatisfied with being.

three body in the small dim room- two sleeping. one sits cross-legged, her fingers tucked in around the cover of her small neon notebook. her eyes constantly gaze around the object that surrounds her and for a second she wondered why she loves to write in the dark so much when there’s plenty damn lights in the daytime. her heavy eyes darts to her brother’s sleeping figure, his snore low and she always find it funny in some way; maybe because she could tease him about it later and she always wonders about her sister’s eyes when she sleep; they’re never fully closed and she still think about it at some point. suddenly, her hand pauses and she took a short breathe, reciting what she had just wrote in a careful whisper. it’s almost three in the morning. she felt a familiar feeling of wishing she could just drift away to her beauty sleep haunts her every night, though she could never come close to stop thinking about so much things.

Sunlight gently streams into her room, caressing her face. Her eyes flutter open; another day has begun. She carefully selects the outfit she will wear; the dress must match her shoes while the earrings must offset the color of her hair. Everything must look perfect because in reality nothing really is.As she carefully applies her make-up she notices tears glistening in her eyes. She smiles weakly and although her eyes shine with life, the lace of death within them is unmissable. Try as she might she cannot hide the pain that is always with her.

She tries to remember a time when laughter was her life’s song, and hope was her constant companion. A time when she had a spring in her step, a trunk full of dreams and a heart bursting with love. Reality intrudes on her wistful musings and she remembers she must get to work. She carefully tucks away the pain and meticulously hides her bleeding heart, and once the burden of loss is tightly secured on her back, makes her way to work.

‘laughter was her life’s song’- beautiful

He sits on his computer all day his mum says, wondering out his window, what is actually out there? look, whats that and whats that? it looks like a rock falling from the sky in the distance burning with fumes of smoke, the rock is the same size as Africa I heard on the news, it was cooling but they say it could cause collateral damage on a major scale, like one we’ve never seen before, this is the end call it judgement day, the end of days, the second coming. I didn’t care for that one moment I knew what to do with my life…

“Wake up, you lazy mongrel! Time for school!”

Those blaring words, coupled with a rigorous jolt made against her shoulder, ends her long sleep nestled with a dream. It seems to her that her mind stiffens as still as a frozen figure before it adjusts to reality. In other words, the brain waves take a long while to recognize what is happening now.

Slowly, eyes half-closed and struggling with her depleted energy, she reaches out for the alarm clock which is situated on her bedside table. It is now six o’clock in the morning, when she realizes it is fifteen minutes too late to get up. A thought dawns on her: must she go back to sleep or head for school? With a quick burst of energy, she dashes off for a good bath and after ten minutes, emerges from the bathroom all wet, with a wrapped towel on her wet hair and another covering her naked body. Without further hesitation, she dresses into her school uniform and stamps out of her room with her bag in tow.

While having a breakfast with her family, her thoughts are on her assignments, which are almost complete at that moment. She leaves very little time to ponder on her dreams as doing this would waste precious time. Having finished with all the usual preparations, she skips off outside.

He shows up to job that moved him across country, that he was unsure of. He graduated from school July 2011, and didn’t get a call from a company until January 2014. He wasn’t sure if it was the right decision. He believes the move part was right but the job, the job is boring and doesn’t challenge him like his last. Their is a lot more down time and sitting around. He often jokes with is coworkers he has watched more tv the past year and a half than he has in the previous five combined. He doesn’t know what to do. He went to school to work on planes, but he doesn’t like it. It is not what he expected. Coming on to the age of 30 what does he do? Does he stay in this career path or find another? He doesn’t have any special skills or hobbies to make a career out of. He kind of misses his old way of life. Doing electrical wasn’t so bad always busy at work, did not have to work second shift and sit around until 2-230 am while his supervisor fucks around on the internet, just because.

His old boss knew how to take care of his men. He would buy a few thirty racks for the guys every week, sometimes twice depending on how thirsty we were that week. Occasionally he would takes us out to dinner. It was a fun environment to work at. Its funny how things work he tries to better himself and make himself happier but all he has done is made him more frustrated. He is a city 850 miles away from his friends and family. He has a smaller social group. He loves the city of Chicago and is glad he made the move. Because it’s a fun city and always something to do. And if he didn’t take this risk, he could look back at his life 10 years from now regretting he never took this risk.

On the sofa laptop in place cats at his feet yearning for touch

Warm summer night air invited in through fully opened windows cars speed past passersby talk in swift whispered tones

He finds words to add to a new poem some fall from his fingertips with ease others drop haltingly fishing for the right word in this first draft

like he usually does uncertain where he’s going fear to share to much, not enough thinking, thinking of the point

of why his writing this poem words battle in his mind for recognition to be chosen

to show the feeling he’s trying to capture with words on a laptop in place cats at his feet yearning for touch

He stops and strokes them they need him now

She’s sitting on a bed with a mac on her laps. Her toes are freezing even though she’s on a tropical island with the ocean in a safe distance hiding in the dark, frogs quietly perfecting their tunes, and the wind coming in and out of a little house without using the door.

Solitude. Silence. Nature. Time. She has almost everything a writer could be dreaming of.

Has she written much since she came here about a year ago? A few Facebook posts. Three probably. No. Four.

In her defense, she’s just recently discovered that ‘morning pages’ or the stream of consciousness that helps get rid of what’s obstructing the writing and is intended to be kept private just like a diary does not count as actual writing. Who knew?!

Plus she was busy with work. The work she loves. And can conveniently hide behind.

And often times it just felt pointless. Someone else surely wrote about the things she wanted to write already. Or will write about it very soon. And better than her.

And doesn’t she need to learn more, understand more, become more, better, enough to write the book she wants?

She also had to finish reading yet another book about creativity, sincerely wishing it was longer. Or endless. And read more about writing. And how all the above and below should be solved by a simple motion of typing word after word, sentence after sentence, otherwise known as writing.

This evening all she wanted to do was write. But then she had to find the log-in details (that haven’t been used for two years) to the unfinished online course on how to create a blog that makes a difference. And think about a perfect topic. And a WordPress theme. Just to kill that urge to write. Something. NOW. Nobody would read that blog anyway with the plentitude of brilliant ones out there to choose from.

Maybe she’s not that passionate about writing after all. She could definitely survive without it. She could keep updating the list of things she wants to write about and share, and keep exploding about not doing that on those private pages that will never be shared.

She would survive. But would she thrive? Another year might be given for her to find out.

She puts her headphones in as she types away on her laptop. The music drowns out her problems and the writing washes away her pain. A cold cup of coffee sits beside her, but it’s been long forgotten as she absorbs herself in the lyrics that were made to speak to her hurting ears. She imagines the life of her characters and fantasizes about slipping into her precious books and never coming back to reality.

The messy kitchen that surrounds her is suffocating and she thinks of just walking out of the house and starting a new life somewhere else. Her mind is in a million and three places all at once. Right now, all her mind is filled with is the fantasies of her dreams and the music that calms her soul.

Her frizzy, curly, brown hair is in a messy bun and her brown eyes sparkle with inspiration. Her mind has doubts about society finding her pretty and talented, but the writer in her has a different personality and she has a confidence in her that only comes through in her writing.

As she sits in school, her headphones have been banned and the only writing she does is equations and the answers to problems that are not her own. She watches the other people and envies their happiness. Everyday’s a struggle not to snap under the pressure of having straight A’s and expectations that her shoes are too small to fill. Day to day this is the same feeling, the same agony.

Someone changes her though. When she’s around this person, the pain fades and not a keyboard in sight, her problems are forgotten and the headphones she so often turns to are abandoned as she embraces this person. True happiness can be seen in her eyes, but of course this is just another fantasy that will fade as quickly as the door is shut and she once again is left in the messy kitchen with her writing and headphones.

She always has a smile on her face. Sometimes it’s real and sometimes it’s not. The truth is that, deep inside, she’s a warrior. Her head is a battelfield. One might think she’s always optimistic, like her life is a musical where a happy tune is playing in the background. But no. She’s constantly at war with her mind, struggling with keeping her innocence intact. She likes to think of the world as an ocean. But she’s not fooled by it’s beauty. She knows very well that the ocean isn’t such a scary place if one’s solely observing it from the shore. She knows she’s not brave enough, not strong enough. She knows she can’t dive in, even in her wildest dreams. So she lays there, on the burning sand, watching the sunset, thinking about love, as if she were in a fairytale. Thinking about reality terrifies her. Thinking that there’s a world out there where only few know happiness makes her want to stay forever in her little happy place where people desperately get out of the ocean looking for someone to make them see the good in the world again. And the fact that she hopes to be that someone, for any stranger who’s struggling with life, makes her who she is. And that’s why she makes it a point to put a smile on her face and laugh, no matter what war she’s in.

A very real scenario a lot of us will identify with

She always has a smile on her face. Sometimes it’s real and sometimes it’s not. The truth is that, deep inside, she’s a warrior. Her mind is a battlefield. One might think she’s always optimistic, like her life is a musical where a happy tune is playing in the background. But no. She’s constantly at war with herself, struggling with keeping her innocence intact. She likes to think of the world as an ocean. But she’s not fooled by its beauty. She knows very well that the ocean isn’t such a scary place if one’s solely observing it from the shore. She knows she’s not brave enough, not strong enough. She knows she can’t dive in, even in her wildest dreams. So she lays there, on the burning sand, watching the sunset, thinking about love, as if she were in a fairytale. Thinking about reality terrifies her. Thinking that there’s a world out there where only few know happiness makes her want to stay forever in her little happy place where people desperately get out of the ocean looking for someone to make them see the good in the world again. And the fact that she hopes to be that someone, for any stranger who’s struggling with life, makes her who she is. And that’s why she makes it a point to put a smile on her face and laugh, no matter what war she’s in.

He sat staring in to the laptop screen. It’s dull light painting his face a subtle shade of cyan. Was it dull though? Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the afternoon sun streaming its heat in through the three wide windows behind him, in his bedroom, was just too bright. Everything was relative. None of it constant. He realized as his fingers, now slightly oily with sweat, drew circles on the touchpad and traced the edges of the black ‘accutype’ keys. Sweat was trickling down his forehead too, forming droplets on his thick eyebrows, dampening them and blurring his vision. He didn’t wipe them off with the handy towel he kept nearby, as was his custom. Let the heat burn this sickly feeling inside of me, he thought.

He couldn’t think of any other way to get rid of the feeling. What had he done? He had said his good byes to her. That’s what he had done. That’s what he had accomplished with his morning. Ended something that had kept him human and alive for a year. He had destroyed something he might have on this very day, in the previous year, sworn to keep true forever. Why had he done it? The flurry of strong, sharp, pointed reasons that had left his quiver of logic and pierced the bond that tied them together, seemed flaccid now. Strangely impotent. Was he happy now? He could tell that if only he could feel his heart. It had gone silent, and numb.

The blinking cursor on the white screen gave him no comfort. Write! His head screamed at him breaking the silence. Write something! Let it out!

What would he write about? Every word seemed to form around her, framing themselves around her face and her smile.

Find something else to write about.

Look it up. Find a prompt. He finally moves and the fingers that were caressing the plastic keys before him, began to press them with vague intent taking shape in him. Find a prompt, he thought, wiping the droplets of sweat hanging from his brow, and trickling down his face. Let it out…

She keeps biting her nails. And she doesn’t know why she just cant quit this disgusting habit. Disgusting. Do you really write it like that? She doesn’t remember. Its already 5oclock in the afternoon and she still is in her pjamas, too lazy to even get off the couch and get a glass of water, she is much too comfortable. She feels ok, but the rainy day outside makes it hard for her not to think about negative things, like her break up and the fact that she hasn’t written for such a long time. She even forgot how to use the keyboard properly. Why did she quit? Was it because of him? Maybe he wasn’t encouraging enough? Too full of himself as a writer? That he made her feel like she isn’t good enough? No. He did a lot of things wrong, but not this. It all comes to herself and her lack of self confidence. What happened now? What changed? She did. She is herself again, because it all depends on her. How she feels, how she behaves, how she speaks. Its kind of like karma. What goes around comes around. She hates cliches, but its true. If you don’t love yourself, who will love you truely in the end of the day? If you don’t believe in the story you are telling, how can you expect others to fully believe it?

She is too lazy for everything, or maybe not lazy but too scared. Scared of trying, scared of losing, of disappointment. Maybe thats why she keeps biting her nails, doesn’t even try to quit it, because she knows that she will not be strong enough and start it again anyway. But you know what they say, if you don’t try you will always wonder why. Another cliche. But thats why right now she is writing, because she doesn’t want to be the one to not even try. Who knows, maybe putting her fingers on top of the keyboard instead of in her mouth, might even help her to overcome that disgusting habit. She still doesn’t remember how you write that word, and she is still too lazy to look it up.

He sits in a dimly lit room, typing on a dimly lit laptop. He is lost in himself and lost in the world. He finds himself lost in a maze he doesn’t understand the dimension of. Up is darkness and left is melancholy. But he still types.

He has always been numb. He has always been detached. He was ok with how it was before. He is a thinker. Once a problem presents itself he decides right then whether to pursue it or to wipe it from his consciousness. But he knows he can’t wipe The Question away.

The Question is why he has always read. He hopes to find a glimpse of an answer. He doesn’t have any other choice. Someone else must have had The Question before. Therefore, there must be instructions or directions or a fucking path to follow to lead to an answer. But he has come up short. 21 years of searching and he has only just grasped the simplicity of The Question.

“Who am I?”

It haunts him. It lies behind every word, underneath every step, and right at the edge of his vision. He sees the world as nothing but a mirror by which he can maybe hold fully catch a true glimpse of the answer. Before high school, books were the mirror. Then it was that hurricane of a woman. Now it is in friends and maybe just maybe he won’t need a mirror for much longer.

But it is hard work. To drown but to hold off on getting help. To suffer but to refuse to ask the pain to stop. He knows the answer to The Question is in these experiences. He writes for the same reason he once read.

Hopefully the answer arrives soon. Treading water isn’t easy.

Really well written. I find this so easy to follow a see the growing emotions and battles.

He;s sitting quite content in a sense. Throughout turmoil being anything but rare state of mind. As he sits here computer in lap writing, he feels home again. Trying to chase various paths of life throughout the past couple years, yet always knowing in the back of his head that he will end up home. Writing. Doing what he has always truly loved since he first discovered it in elementary school. Funny thing is; he discovers this in the most humorous way, at his best friends house, regardless of the fact that he is 2000 miles away at school. His best friends name is Andrew, and he goes to school in Colorado. Andrews house was always the 2nd home in his life. Single mom, raising 3 kids Andrew being the oldest. The boy on the bed, yeah over here *waving*[trying to use imagery], he on the other hand is home from school taking part time classes after being a full time student for the past 2 and a half years. You see, he was in a dark place for a while. Lots of things going on in his life, battling unhealthy relationship with long-time girlfriend, various family medical situations, trying to catch up on sleep from being a student-athlete with a rigorous schedule constantly. On top of all that he is being told these will be the best times of my life, yet all he feels is a cloud of depression over his head glooming larger and larger as the day goes on. Throughout all this, he decided it was best to come home for the semester. He has had a lot of time on his hands; a lot of support from his one and only woman he will ever need in his life, his mother. The true best friend. He has come to realize a lot of things about life. Life is what you make it, there’s only so much opportunity out there that you have to be willing to put the work to achieve your true goals. The right people relationship wise will come to him. All he needs is his family of five sisters and one brother with two loving parents behind his back. He can achieve anything he wants. Throughout the past couple days, he had a chance to think very deeply. He decided he’s going to attend college to play lacrosse, while majoring in business with a minor in some sort of english or writing. He feels like this is the right thing for him to do. He is very personable, and feels he can excel in the business world by day and by night take care of his body, be athletic, and destress and by night doing what he loves most, writing. And heck, if he ends up being good at it and maybe pursue a career in that path, then screw it. Life is what you make of it, you have to do what feels right, and what truly at the end of the day put a smile on your face and make you happy.

Her Bed is made. That’s a change. It isn’t always. For once she made it. She dared to tame unruly blankets that had twisted and tangled themselves throughout the night. Confined to her room, quarantine self imposed, she lay on her neatly made bed. Propping her head up on pillows she angled her laptop to just the right angle for bearable squinting. Her glasses were annoyingly smudged, but un-cleanable on the black Batman t-shirt she wore. She gave them a once over. Better than they were before, good enough, she pushed them onto her face. There. Comfortable.

She sighs. What is she doing anyway? Music plays over the internet radio. There is so much passing through her mind that the firewall is up to keep the virus from corrupting essential programming. So far high functioning. So far so good. Processing power is diverted to essential tasks, managing the menial necessities. Depression is a daily deviant she fights.

Around 15 minutes long:

She sits on a soft and cushioned couch, legs close together, eyes staring at an electronic screen of white and light. A glass of water rests close by. In her mind, words gush forth like a national gyser, and her hands shake with excitement on top of the black keyboard keys. She could already imagine the clickity-clack sounds they make after each of her fingers’ caress.

She clicks her tongue, and carefully navigates the keyboard, placing each fingure on a well travelled path. Usually, she does so with confidence, joyfully skimming the web and dreaming of a future of transformation and delight.

Today, she tilts her head and clucks her teeth, straightens her back, and glares. She glares at the notepad from left to right, tilting her head to and fro. Her toes start fidgeting, and she moves her knees up and down, as she searches her house for inspiration.

She sighs, and blinks. The cursor blinks back. She cradles the mouse carefully in her hands, preparing to place a few words to look at.

“Come on,” she thinks. “I can do this!”

She types one word, “She”, then another. And it seems as if she has finally broken through the dam holding her vocabulary hostage. Then she stops, and takes a look at her work.

After what has felt like weeks of travel from one country to another she sits looking out of a huge floor to ceiling window at the undulating tropical ocean. Despite the air con, the room feels warm and the air close. After a fortnight on European shores yearning for the heat on her back the unerringly grey and stormy weather has put a dampener on her mood. Whenever she feels like this, she reminds herself of how many people would give their right arm to be living in a tropical island paradise, but on days like today its hard not to remember the laughter, ease and shared history of familiar faces back home.

Man’s best friend commands her attention by snuggling his face on the seat in front of her. He misses his Daddy and with only one human in the house today to look after him he’s insistent on commanding her full attention. His eyes wonder to his ball. The intention is clear, “Play with me then?”. A game ensues of ‘throw and fetch’. She’s amused that he hasn’t quite mastered bringing the ball back; he takes it back to his bed each time then pushes it slightly with his foot and draws her eye as if willing her to take action through his glance.

Her thoughts wonder to the feelings this furry friend stirs inside her: maternal instinct. Is it a desire that will ever be fulfilled? Does she even want to disturb the calm freedom with which they lead their lives? Maybe nature should decide. Is that selfish or human nature she wonders?

As her mind fogs with the racing of thoughts inside her head, she hears a gentle snoring from the furry mound on the floor. Life is so simple for him she thinks, maybe they should both take a leaf out of their pet’s book and stop thinking too far ahead. “ Enjoy the moment”, she thinks and smiles to herself as she remembers how many times an online article has advised her to do just that.

I’m so alone. I thought death would bring me peace but instead it is a constant torment. I thought finally after all my pain and suffering I could have an endless sleep, an infinity of nothingness. But no. I’m stuck, forever here to watch drones get married, start families, fall in love… Why am I here? What did I do to endure this suffering? I’ve been here for centuries. Watched the decimation of my family line, the rape of my sister, murder of my father, things I probably would have been able to prevent if I was there.

It’s so lonely here on the other side, I haven’t spoken a word out loud for almost 80 years. Because what’s the point? The worst thing about it is being able to see everyone progress and not being able to interact with them, or maybe the inability to have someone touch love and care for you. It’s just nothingness.

Live your life to the fullest as this is what is in store for you, an eternity of torture and torment, oh well.

She is restless. Sitting in front of a computer monitor trying to contain a lifetime in 15 minutes. Trying to squeeze in a few words a life that was lived and a life that wasn’t. Her heart can’t contain it, her mind can’t, her room can’t contain it either. How could then a few words do it?

She is writing about the hope that is renewed as the dawn is re-birthed every day. The faith that hasn’t yet seen it all. About her real self that is yet to be manifested in a whole new way as she is becoming more and more who she was born to be.

The pictures on the wall remind her of the special moments she has lived. The sleeping man next to her reminds her of all that is yet to be lived. The silent hot night is just one of the many that she has lived; yet it is special. She can hear it whisper to her : “you are blessed”.

He woke up in the morning, and looked up at the damp patch in the corner of the room. He then wondered who was going to show up on this day, would it be white lightning, or the green eyed monster. White lightning was the mad wild white stallion that he was trying to break in, he is attempting to get a saddle and reins on this wild horse, but white lightning is a feisty beast, and doesn’t like to be controlled. But given time, he hopes that they can learn to respect one another, and white lightning won’t give him to much of a bumpy ride.

He knows that there will be times when he will loose control of the wild horse, and loose grip of the reins, and fall off. But he hopes that with help from his family, he can stand back up, and dust himself off, with only a few minor cuts and bruises. He hasn’t named the green eyed monster, as he doesn’t want to be familiar with him. This beast turns up unannounced, and at anytime, night or day. He was doing so well riding white lightning, and he was approaching the finish line, when the monster showed up, and ripped the reins from his hands. This is how he describes what it’s like living with bipolar disorder.

This mental state of hers is deteriorating, falling apart as she types. Another pretty face taken for granted, and lost in a wonderland of words. Only sure about one thing, she is alone. Alone because she pushes them away, the human race. She picks up a book and is lost again. She reads to escape this world, and writes to turn it into something else. Looking close, while she grips this pencil in her hand, a familiar feeling, it shakes. If you trace her fingers to her arm you see the cuts that bury deep into her wrist and forearm. Three months have passed and they have only faded a little. If only you could see into her body, you would notice the crack in her rip cage, and the collapsed lung that threatened to take her life two years ago. But the only visible scars from that night lie among her face, busted cheeks and scarred temple. Bruises long gone. Her shoulders start to cave with the weight of her mothers relapse, her dads disappearance and reappearance, death following her in every step along the way. She made her peace with him, why can’t he make his peace with her. People threaten to take her life and he said no. She tried to take her own and he said no. Begging to put her out of her misery. Wondering if she is here for a reason. Only time will tell.

Every form of creating is an escape, from what she still doesn’t know. She’ happy, mostly, even though she knows she shouldn’t be. There is a weird sadness and yet poetic justice about her situation. Moved from one entrapment to another, never sure which is worse. Yet here she is, still smiling and laughing because that’s all that she can do. To say she find’s this world disturbing is pushing it a bit far. There is a lot in this world she finds beautiful and there is so much to be happy about. Overly emotional and a weirdo in her own right, that’s what she is growing to accept. People come and go in her life, she watches her own life progress as if she is an on looker for things her body says and does without her permission. There have been so many late nights where she sits up cringing over thing’s she’s said and done anywhere from 2 minutes ago to 18 years ago. That in itself making her cringe. There are those around her, her friends and peers that she sees changing, being so different from who they used to be. So many of them posting their lives on social media, filling up folder after folder of selfie and fun yet hers lay bare, the latest upload 3 months ago of raspberries on her fingers because they looked like people. The childish curiosity and amusement still there. She sees all the statuses, while she sits on the sidelines of everyone else’s life, as pathetic as that is, and watches as they post how dweeb-y they USED to be and here she is, unable to say those words because the truth be told, she still is. Her weird, erratic behavior covering the scars and loathing. A volatile concoction of bitterness, love and naivety. The happy mess she’s made her life.

The same wind that scattered the leaves outside accompanied by the sounds of a passing train fills the room accented by the crisp fall air. The vibrant aroma of a fresh cup of coffee seemed to have extricated itself from the thick, cream coating over the surface, penetrating deep into his nose, watering his mouth. He craved the subtle undertone of caramel, and his cup showed a festive color. He wraps his fingers around it, enjoying the heat spreading through his hands. But without a conscious thought, it is in his hand, and the first milky sip creeps over his taste buds and down his throat. After only a few minutes he is bathed in the kick of the caffeine.

With cookies and candy nearby, he begins typing on his computer. At first his thoughts flow free and smooth like a quiet stream. But after twenty minutes or so his creative thought process hits a road block. He turns to his outline he made only minutes before hoping for more creative words. Checking the online timer he still has about ten minutes before the planned time runs out.

He has a to do list perched on his desk to serve as a reminder to stay on task. He loads some of his favorite mood music on his computer into his headset. The creative center of his brain stimulated by the music provides him with the visual and emotional thoughts he now types onto the page. Words begin to flow more freely and faster. Soon paragraphs, even chapters are written. Lost in his own world he can feel, taste, and experience every nuance his characters are experiencing.

As he types, the deep emotional thoughts translate onto the page bringing his characters to life. The timer runs out indicating a red flashing message on his screen. He stops typing. While taking a break, he reads the words his mind had provided him.

His eyes tear up as he reads what he created realizing the beauty of the words. Reading them aloud almost brings them to life.

If only he could enter that world.

She was the type of girl who was loud and outgoing. Her curly smokey brown hair and dark chocolate brown eyes that everyone though was always happy. when someone would look at her she would always be smiling , as if she had no worries in the world. At least thats what people thought. She was the happiest yet the saddest person. She never knew what she felt. she once mentioned she was seeing a psychologist to help with whatever she had,that didn’t help, it just confused her more than she already was. She was alice in wonderland but in her own world. she didn’t know whether she was mad sad or happy so she just smiled the pain away. No one ever seemed to ask how she felt because they didn’t care, but when it came to them she was the one who was always there. she was an excellent student, she played sports, and was loved by her family, yet she hated herself. Why? who knows. all she knows is that she doesn’t lover herself. she wishes that she could be the perfect picture of a teenage girl that society looks for. Those curves,flat stomach, colored eyes, etc. she had extremely nice features yet she wasn’t satisfied, she didn’t like what she saw when she would look into the mirror. all she saw was a hideous girl starring back at her. she’d would wake up knowing that she would be the same girl in the mirror. she worked out everyday and ate so little to meet societies expectations, but no matter what it wasn’t good enough for her or society. Her only escape was writing and music, she couldn’t describe her feelings or thoughts, she was emotionally and mentally muted. she would talk about anything and everything except herself. she doesn’t feel loved , she feels as if shell never be good enough for anyone or that no one will ever see her for who she truly is. On the outside she’s beautiful, smart, funny, outgoing etc. yet on the inside there is the ugly part of her that consumes her more and more everyday, she was sinking into a dark hole that no one knew about. she would take pills that would make her feel good, she would smoke pot and eat edibles, it didn’t complete her. she’s missing something that completes her but what could it be? Love? Attention? she doesn’t even know the answer to that, all she wants is to be left alone but at the same time she wants to be happy, she doesn’t want to portray to be something she’s not. She’s tired of it! She wants to be set free and be that little girl that everyone knew she was, she doesn’t want to be this rotten 16 year old girl. Her mother always tried to figure her out but she never got anywhere because she would never try to talk to anyone. Instead of talking to someone she goes to sleep or goes to work out. Her body says one thing yet her mind and soul say another. She is searching for ways to communicate through her actions yet no one understands her complexity, but thats what makes her who she is. Her complexity of emotions and mentality make her beautiful.

She sits on her couch. Goes for the remote to watch news. News is not her kind of thing but today she needs to watch. She feels the urge to see what’s happening to the world. How can she be so interested today in news? She asks herself. Deep down, she is scared. Not sure of what to do with her life. She has just finished campus and does not know what life ahead has in store for her. All she is sure of is that she wants the best life. She doesn’t want to look back and regret one day. As she sits there, she sees this cockroach just fumbling around her living room. It hits her that she has dirty utensils. Utensils from the previous day. Nothing nags her than doing the utensils but does she have an option? She let’s go the thought and picks her phone to call her little brother to see how he is doing. As she goes through her contacts, her phone vibrates..she looks, it is her boyfriend calling to ask her to meet up tomorrow they need to talk. What is it that he wants to talk about? What had she done? This freaked her out. The nervous feeling inside her does not allow her to watch the television in peace. She walks to her bedroom, lies down and lets the night slip away..

She always remembered herself listening to music. By now she pinned it down to the fact that she dreaded being alone. It wasn’t fear of the dark or any other shady thing that might be luring in dark corners, she had her own personal demons to keep her entertained. Those vengeful entities with such free will but no sense of boundaries that kept reaching out to gradually more sacred and untouched parts of herself. No music in the world could stop them today. The turntable was whistling jazz tunes and coffee was bubbling on the stove-top. She looked outside the window and the sharp stillness felt like failure. She felt the failures she’d experienced and all the failures yet to come weighing down on her. All those opportunities she’d missed and all of those she’d never gotten. Why? What was she afraid of? For one, she was afraid of answering that question.

He sits in his newly-furnished living room. Alone, as always. Of course, this is a burden that he has always bestowed upon himself. He could not be lonely, people like him enough. But nevertheless he is alone. Perhaps subconsciously, for his consciousness constantly dreads it, this is the way that he wants it to be. He silently types out his “creative” piece, only listening to the conversation within his mind and the only-occasional clicking of keys. You see, he wants to be a writer; ever since he was a small child he has dreamed of touching people’s hearts in the way that his heart has never been touched. A weird sentence? Yes, but truthful nonetheless. He has always had a sort of appreciation for the art of creative writing and reading, an appreciation that grew into a desire, not a desire to entertain but more of a desire to awe people, to make them think. Unfortunately, his laziness is the only thing that has ever stopped him from achieving his own potential. He certainly will never be the person who bows down to society and proceeds to lick it’s sweaty, fungus-ridden puss-covered toes but the least he can do, he thinks to himself, is work so that he eventually will not have to. There has always been this game he has played in his head. One where he writes something that is truly phenomenal, a piece that nobody in their right minds would ever dare to pass up, and then he shows it to a teacher or professor, somebody with power. Of course, they would be so impressed by it that they rush out of their office or classroom, wherever they are reading it at the time, and drive straight to their friend Steve-The-Editor’s house and he is so impressed by it that he immediately bestows a book deal upon the boy and he makes it big. Within two years time, he is talking movie-deals, daily interviews, widespread acclaim and above all else, a more than ideal living situation. But instead, the boy just sits alone in his newly-furnished living room, thinking of his glory-days and all they are meant to be.

An Exorcism

He listened to the audio tape, wandering idly in this crypt, that extended under the Parisian bedrock-the ossuary giving the city a foundation of bones. “This historic place was originally a quarry, a place where stone was dug…” He ignored it, too focused on exploring. He was not usually like this, but there was a difference lurking in his actions, something strong, something elemental, something overpowering. Fear-He was scared, not of the grinning skulls that littered this labyrinth, nor of the musky scent of the already decomposed skulls and bones, not even of the long narrow corridors, and leaking pipes.

He feared what the skulls implied; they were identical, forgotten, alone, and He prayed for them. For everything has a past, an origin, and with any beginning comes an end. With that realization He prayed. This time for himself. For his beginning was known, but his end, that was uncertain. Would He end forgotten, alone, indistinguishable, an enigma, from the rest, in the eternal conformity of death?

With these thoughts relentlessly agonizing him, He slowed, his extensional crisis not yet resolved, instead looming over him, in an insidious invasion. He felt meaningless, after all, without humanity the sun would still shine, space would still expand, and the mantle would still convect. What was the worth? Why were they here? What was life if not an exercise in futility? These Toxic thoughts pained his soul, and He could find no answer-no reason for his self-importance in the face of these fears and questions. It seems fitting that in a place of death, these questions haunted him.

He felt alone, until He looked at his family, and thought of his friends, and in a flash of realization, his blindness to the beauty of humanity lifted, and He remembered. He remembered the beauty of our endurance, dauntless in the face of a hostile world, a species that rose from the bottom of the food chain to the ones that create it. A race that when faced with nature’s wrath, they rebuild, and repopulate in the exact same places. Using the god-given tool of innovation, to create a society that links the world together. Rising above all that burdened them until they were smart and resilient enough to ask these questions.

With that, He realized that the answer to his crisis was in the company of his fellow man. He wouldn’t die as a nobody, because the people He loved would remember him. His life had barely begun, He had an opportunity-no a gift-to make an impact, and to change the world. With that his demons had been exorcised, that in an odd juxtaposition, his restoration of hope, occurred in a place of sadness, mouring, and death. But He supposed, that is the nature of humanity, finding inspiration in the oddest places.

He was lying in his bed, listening to the voice of newspaper flickering through the wind of ceiling fan. He was tired and having a sever headache. But was determined to learn how to write since he is very close to giving an entrance for a college. When I talk about his frame of mind, he is very scared, someone who has a confidence with a sense of doubt – “Will I be able to achieve this?”. He thinks and longs for sleeping, but there is a burning sensation, a desire, a goal that keeps him awake during the nights, gives him a typical of 4 hours of sleep every night. After all, what keeps him alive is the what kills him the most – desire to achieve success.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where else to go, who to tell or who even to trust. So he panicked. Without a second to think, he quickly grabbed the phone out of Uncle Jack’s coat pocket and dialed 9-1-1. The phone hardly rang before a operator answered. ” 9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” “Yes! can you please send medical help to 123 Main Street, my uncle has been shot and he’s not responding! There’s blood, a shit load of blood, everywhere.” he cried. After, he ended the call, quickly wiped the phone clean of any fingerprints and placed the phone in a wooden drawer near the closet.

She sits alone at a desk, a dual-monitor computer flickering lazily in front of her as she scrolls through websites online. Her eyes are tired, for such a young soul. She has had enough. The dark circles under her eyes made her seem like an infant panda, or possibly a raccoon, and no matter how much makeup she used she could never quite rid herself of them.

Often, she finds herself wandering aimlessly in her own mind; the mind itself seemingly a vast expanse of intrigue and wonder. Thoughts can linger for hours, or disappear as quickly as they come into being. After a while, she often forgets herself in her thoughts and lets time pass her by.

The stress of exams lingers over her, a hovering overlord dooming her to fail. She, however, ignores it. With a wave of her pen, she writes facts and figures to remember for the next day. A flicker of her weary eyes across a page gives her a sense of reassurement as she realises she knows more than she once thought.

The clock ticks seven. Her revision session is over. She is content and prepared, even if she looks physically exhausted.

She wakes up every morning at six o’clock sharp. Not a little bit more nor less. She likes doing that,even if its not a school morning or a day necessary for her to wake up so early. She thinks by doing that, she can catch up with time and run alongside it, not behind. She’ll sleep very late at night and wake up with the sun, a constant routine she’s careful not to break. Afraid that if she did, one precious hour will passed without her enjoying her favorite youtube channels, usually talking about different psychology topics or the meaning of her birth chart explained by amateur astrologers. She likes the silence that comes with the early morning, when everyone in her family is still asleep. For a moment, she knows that she’s safe, with only the sun and sounds of someone speaking through her iphone screen or sometimes, just her own thoughts ringing in her ears like small bells reminding her that she’s alive and all the reasons why she should be glad of that. Breathing in and out, opening and closing her eyes, a small smile tugged at her lips, and birds singing, vaguely signaling that a new day is approaching.

He is sitting in the separate room as a study room .He looks joyful remembering his family, his child and of course his parents too. Even he tries to ignore the some cuts he received in his fresh battle with his spouse. As he is somehow determine to overcome by this. Now again the question which makes him vociferous is what to do.. It is very long time ago now as he remembers his old work job. Because there is nothing credibility left in that concern or by that job. As it is morning time,he has to do some rituals but completing some more sentences. Of course he is now determined man. who has seen all gritty petty of life. He tries to answer his questions then why he is sitting ideal.

She sits back in the same seat she always sits in at 1:10pm. She scans the room around her. “What am I doing here?” she questions herself. “I belong somewhere bigger, better, faster.. most importantly more creative.” She begins to think of everything she’s ever been through and then moves onto thinking about everything she deserves. This girl had been through hell and back and never really seems to get a break. In her 7th grade year she was told that she needed to move to a house almost 20 miles away from her whole life, not extremely far.. But it was a lot for a 12 year old. There was something revealed about her parents. They were addicts. They were addicted to the effects that heroin gave them. The way it made them feel, but they realized they needed help and there was only one place their child could go and still have some sort of way to go back and forth to her school that she couldn’t just drop. Her heart dropped to her stomach every time she ever started to think about the place she was sent. She felt sick of everything she’d been through because she fears every day she’ll have to go back. The girl was sent to her aunt’s house. Sounds all great and family oriented until you realize the way she was treated and what she had to go through. When she first stepped foot into the home that she would live in for the next 6 months, she felt ery. She cried herself to sleep for a majority of the nights spent in the basement of their home. She contemplating ending her life more than once but she continued to hold on, “For mom,” she would remind herself, “Stay Strong for mom” She paced around the basement trying to figure out how to get out of her hell on earth. She was treated as a red headed step child… some would even call it a life like cinderella. She was told to make a meal once a day for the people she was staying with. She had family counselors that would come to the house and speak with her, they would find any way to possibly help her. She was in the deepest depression… nothing seemed to pull her out from the dark depths she had entered. Now the day she was taken out of the home was the most traumatic experience she had encountered. “TWO WORDS. THANK. YOU.” These words rang through her head to this day. Her aunt screamed these words at her whilst in a family counseling session. She now struggles keeping herself together everytime someone raises their voice even in the slightest bit directed towards her. Her body trembles occasionally throughout the course of her life due to these events. She doesn’t remember breathing this day. She just remembers crying and balling herself up for self protection. She was rushed into the basement to collect what she could grab. “You are the most ungrateful, disrespectful, selfish kid I’ve ever met!” The young girl still thinks about herself like this. She takes one look in the mirror. Disrespectful. Selfish. Not good enough.. This is what she sees. New things have been added to the ways she sees herself because her self esteem was destroyed. Ugly. Untalented. Rude. Broken. That word… Broken. There was no way to unsee this word written across her forehead. She never thought she would be able to be loved again. After she left her aunt’s house she moved from one house to the other of her family. She was moved to another aunt’s house, this time her mom was with her. Her mom had to leave the recovery house she was staying in because the broken hearted girl wasn’t able to keep herself together anymore after the horrifying memories that blocked her state of mind. After a few months they were asked to leave there as well, due to having a relationship with her father. He was also a recovering addict and wasn’t the best with keeping his old ways under keeps. He had stolen about 200 dollars in change from the woman who allowed his girlfriend and daughter to stay. They moved forward from this and the young girls grandmother allowed them to enter her home. At this time in her life she was about 13 now. Her mother was diagnosed with an unknown disease that caused her brain to swell. Her mom fell back into a deep depression and the only way she knew how to cope with this was to begin using again. She was constantly in and out of the hospital and her young daughter struggled with the idea that she had no clue what could happen to her mom. Eventually she was released and all was well, except that fact that they were sooner than later kicked out of this home they were staying in as well. Her heart broke. She wasn’t good enough, her mind flew to the conclusion that her family didn’t love her. Hate grew in her heart. She began to come off as hard and unloving. Her heart looked black. She didn’t feel anything anymore. She definitely believed no one would love her anymore. Here comes the part where we fast forward 2 years. She falls in love with a boy she never thought she would even have noticed. She fell in love with not only this boy but his family, his heart, his looks, and his interests. He put on the cover of loving her more than anything. She opened her heart to the boy, she gave him everything. Near the end of the relationship she gave him her body, her heart, her soul and her mind. He was the first boy she’s ever gave these things to. She valued herself more than expected and took these things very seriously. But not long after she did this he decided it was time for things to come to an end. She never saw this coming… she had planned so far in advance for them. She started planning for next year, next summer, their one year. She truly believed that he was the one to help her through everything. He lightened up her life in ways that hadn’t been lit up in years. She found herself in a dark space again. She didn’t really understand why it hurt her so bad to have her heart broke over and over again. Her mind told her this would become a normal thing. The broken girl never really stops being broken right?

At the moment, she was worried. It felt like everything was all too much and not enough at the same time, and it was overwhelming in a way that was seemingly impossible to explain. She was sitting in a chair with ugly red flowers sewed onto a grey fabric, and she was contemplating her life. It felt like so much had already happened, but there was still more to come. It was an exciting thought, but it was also what was frighting her. She had everything planned. A college acceptance letter was tacked onto her wall above her bed; her future was ready to begin. She would attend an unreasonably expensive school, live in mediocre dorms with a room mate she feared she would hate, but she would survive. The college wasn’t far from home, so any time she felt her sanity slip she knew her mother was only a twenty minute drive away. Her mother could always help her clear her mind, and she knew within the next couple of years, she was bound to need plenty of clearing. College wouldn’t be easy. She would be working on her writing, investing herself into the one thing she truly loved, even though she knew it was a bad idea. That this tacit rarely worked, and it rarely worked for people like her. People with so much doubt in themselves that the feel that maybe everything would just be easier if they gave up and did something smarter. Maybe she could do something easier with her life. Major in math, like she always thought she would, maybe become the veterinarian she had dreamed herself to be for so many years before she got it in her head that she wanted to be a writer. Still, as she considers quitting on her dream and doing something that would be more successful in the future, she can’t ignore that fact that she wouldn’t be happy in any other life. She’s passionate about writing, more passionate about creating her own words than reading others, and this is saying something because she can often be found hiding somewhere with a book in her hands, ignoring f all of the responsibilities of high school and life. She wishes that it would be easy to get where she wants to go, but she knows it won’t be, and all she can do is hope that she can keep her doubt at bay for long enough to do something amazing, because she knows she can. But she doesn’t know if shes strong enough for that. Strong enough to ignore the world and all the judgmental people in it who are trying to hold her back. Doesn’t know if she can ignore herself for that long. This is what scares her. Herself. So she sits in her ugly chair and prays that she doesn’t get in her own way of changing the world with her own words.

Behind a desk loaded with papers, she sits in an office chair looking anywhere but at those files waited to be sorted through. She wonders, ‘How much paper would it take to completely barricade me into this office I despise? Could I stop my boss from popping in periodically if I flooded this room with papers, making it impossible to open the door without risking a paper cut frenzy?’ She wouldn’t mind the paper cuts if it meant more autonomy and less need for these useless details depicted on every form. She sips her coffee, which the receptionist brewed too strong (again) and will surely cause a queasy stomach as she taps fingers and feet, hoping to make 5 o’clock come more quickly. Coffee is no time machine though – merely a morning ritual which always seems like a comfort until she’s at the bottom of the cup, realizing it actually brought her almost no comfort at all. ‘Oh well’. she thinks. ‘Maybe tomorrow’s cup will help the time pass faster.’ And yet time passes at the same rate it always has, ticking away her life, file by file, cup by cup.

Eleven Years Ago They make it seem like a past can just be forgotten. They don’t truly realize what it really was like. Smoke. Silence. Constant pain and fear. Hungers of a child compel her out of the safety of the closet. Creeping past the slumbering Bringer of Agony and Rare Love, she trips over imagined escapes. Scouring the kitchen, she looked for something – or anything to eat. But a roar of the mother’s wrath interrupted her anxious search. A fist met her stormy blue eye. Cries of confusion and agony echo in the sparse and bare apartment. She falls face first into the cruddy, grey shag carpet, fresh cigarette butts singing her cheekbones. She whimpers like a kicked puppy, trying her hardest to not let The Woman see her tears carving canyons down her pale freckled face. She knows this to be her life, and that it will never change. At the tender age of five, she already knew that her mother couldn’t and wouldn’t love her, and each day will follow like the one before it. Abuse would’ve been her eternity. But she also did not know of hope. She didn’t realize that the unexpected can occur in the deepest, darkest of midnights. When the silver moon was just a glowing crust, the storm in her eyes brewed. A thought rose like the tide, and an idea crashed down in waves. Before her mind could rationalize the idiocy, she crawled out of the sleeping bag in the closet. The Woman had left the child alone that night, again. Grabbing her coat, shoes, and a cereal bar, she climbed out onto the steel ladder going down the five story apartment complex. Her footfalls made little to no noise as she clambered clumsily. A tomcat yowled and hid when she stepped out onto the pavement. She looked both ways. The stars winked mischievously as she disappeared down the unknown alleyway, escaping from the frying pan and into the great and terrible fire itself.

Now She sat in her creative writing class. Creative non – fiction, huh? Sounded interesting. She recalled the stolen file hidden under her mattress. She knew she was adopted. Her parents knew that at seven years old, she was bound to remember something and thus didn’t keep it a secret. But they also never gave her any details. They say they really never knew the background of the little blonde child they opened up their arms for. It wasn’t until she was older that she recalled memories of eating rotten apples and discarded, half eaten sandwiches in the darkness. She remembered grey shag carpets, and a ripped sleeping bag in a tiny closet. Images that she couldn’t have imagined on her own began sprouting up from nowhere. She didn’t dare tell her parents. They always assumed her overactive imagination tended to skew her version of reality. They thought they knew better than to trust her words. So just the other day, when her parents were gone, she poked around in her dad’s office looking for the keys to the intimidating file cabinet prowling in the corner. She didn’t believe that her parents were as ignorant as they portrayed themselves to be. Besides, when you go through a huge financial and legal change like adopting a child, don’t you usually keep records of everything? They had to be in that filing cabinet. She had shuffled around through the desk drawers and the bookshelf beside her computer. She saw a ring of little keys beside a small wicker basket filled with other random brick-a-brack. Excitedly, she tried the first key. It didn’t even insert. She heard her mom open the garage door. The second slid in easily, but refused to turn. The dogs were sitting at the laundry room door expectantly. Her heart racing, she almost dropped the keys before using the last one. Slippery like butter, it turned. The drawer popped open. Her eyes glanced at all the different files, and saw the one titled Annalia. The file was heavy, and she thrust it into her shirt. The papers felt cold and sharp against her sweaty back as her mother walked into the house, laden with groceries. “What are you doing in dad’s office?” Her mom was definitely suspicious. “I was getting printer paper for a drawing. It looks nicer than the lined notebook stuff.” She nodded. “Ok. Help unload the car please, then get started on your homework. And remember, it’s trash to the curb night, and you have to be at choir practice at 6:30…” After school that day, she plopped herself on to her bed and pulled the thick file out from under her mattress. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but this – this was something else entirely. It was a record, from the day she was introduced to the family on their doorstep in the August air, to just few days ago while she was working out at the Dojo. She read her mother’s handwriting, of every single conceivable mistake and error she made, and was picked apart and analyzed. There were even notes from some parental class she was taking, something about child development and discipline. She read every single day entry. Then behind the notebook there were medical reports dating 2001 – 08. It was a little hard reading the messy handwriting of a doctor, especially with the older technology of photocopying fading the paper. The day that she put into state custody, apparently there was a very thorough physical examination. She had purple and black bruises all along her arms and legs and stomach and back, and even rings around her neck from a chokehold. The were long red streaks, presumed by the writer as proof of a constant whipping from a belt. There was also damage to her lungs from secondhand smoking. She had three deep puncture wounds on the bottom of her left foot that were infected. She vaguely remembered crying on brick steps, holding a bloody foot and smoke curling around her tear stricken face. She was horrified. She always dreamed of finding her parents, and meeting them again. She imagined herself to be like Annie, where her parents would come back for her someday. She knew that she couldn’t just go back to live with them again, but she liked the idea of both sets of parents all sitting down at the dinner table, laughing and eating delicious food together. She could see her adoptive dad taking out the monopoly game board, and both of them having conversations about boyfriends, and moms sharing their own mother’s chocolate chip cookie recipes. Her fantasy was destroyed. That could never be. Her own mother was only thirteen years older, young enough to be an older sister. Her father went unmentioned throughout the file, as if he only existed to bring her into the world, then ceased to exist. There were also gaps. 2006 and 2007 weren’t recorded. She knew she was going to have to learn more. This file – this wasn’t enough. Her hunger for the truth to be dragged out only increased when she snuck the file back to the cabinet after making more copies of every single page. She stored her copies between the layers of spare sheets on the top shelf in her closet. They couldn’t know. Not yet. She needed to know more. This couldn’t be the end.

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How to Write About Yourself

Last Updated: July 31, 2023 Fact Checked

This article was co-authored by Lucy Yeh . Lucy Yeh is a Human Resources Director, Recruiter, and Certified Life Coach (CLC) with over 20 years of experience. With a training background with Coaching for Life and Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) at InsightLA, Lucy has worked with professionals of all levels to improve the quality of their careers, personal/professional relationships, self marketing, and life balance. There are 13 references cited in this article, which can be found at the bottom of the page. This article has been fact-checked, ensuring the accuracy of any cited facts and confirming the authority of its sources. This article has been viewed 5,721,859 times.

Whether you're writing an essay about yourself for a scholarship, a self-introduction, or a personal bio for a job application, coming up with the right words to capture what makes you unique can feel challenging. Fortunately, there are tips and tricks that can make writing about yourself a breeze. Want some help getting across just how impressive, interesting, and skilled you really are? Keep reading to learn everything you need to know about putting yourself into words effectively, complete with examples.

Writing of the Autobiographical Nature

• Who are you?
• What is your background?
• What are your interests?
• What are your talents?
• What are your achievements?
• What challenges have you faced?

• What is your most interesting or unique quality? What word(s) describes you the best? Choose that topic.

• Bad: I like sports.
• Ok: I'm a fan of basketball, football, tennis, and soccer.
• Good: My favorite sport is football, both to watch and to play.
• Better: When I was growing up, I would watch Big Ten football with my dad and brothers every Saturday, before we'd go outside and toss the football around. I've loved it ever since.

• Braggy: I'm the best and most dynamic worker at my company right now, so you should want to hire me for my talents.
• Humble: I was lucky enough to be awarded three employee of the month awards at my current job. Turns out it was a company record.

Writing Personal Essays for School

• Common themes or prompts for autobiographical essays include overcoming obstacles, great successes or spectacular failures, and what you learned about yourself.

• Depending on the assignment, you may need to connect a personal anecdote to a reading or an idea from class. Start brainstorming topics that are connected to that idea, to give yourself a variety of options to choose from.

• Common autobiographical essay cliches include sports stories, mission trips, and dead grandmothers. While these can all make for excellent essays if done well, it is difficult to stand out when telling the story of how your lacrosse team lost a big game, then practiced hard, then won. It has been written before.

• If you want to tell the story of your nasty break-up, start with the break-up, do not start with the star-crossed way you met. You have got to get immediately to the tension in the story.

• When you have an idea of your topic, start writing a "memory list" of specific things that you remember about the event. What was the weather like? What did it smell like? What did your mother say to you?
• Your opening paragraph will set the tone for the rest of the essay. Rather than telling the dull biographical details (your name, your place of birth, your favorite food), find a way to express the essence of the story you are going to tell and the themes you are going to explore in your essay.

Writing a Cover Letter for an Application

• Outline your qualifications and highlight your talents in a cover letter.
• Write about who you are.
• In a cover letter, describe how your education and experience qualifies you for this position.
• Explain how this opportunity will benefit your career goals.

• When in doubt, keep it brief and serious. If you are unsure whether or not telling an amusing anecdote about your friend's bachelor party is appropriate in a cover letter, it is probably best to leave it out.

• "I'm writing to apply for the entry-level position with Company Inc. advertised on your website. I think my experience and training makes me an ideal candidate for this position."
• Contrary to popular belief, it is not necessary to include your name in the body of the letter: "My name is John Smith and I am applying...." Your name will be included in the signature , as well as the header of a cover letter, so there is no need to put it in the text itself.

• Who you are and where you come from.
• Where you want to go.
• How this opportunity would potentially help you get there.

• Be as specific as possible. It is alright to note that you are "A passionate leader in all walks of life" but it would be much better to write about an example of a time you lead in a surprising way.
• Stay focused on skills and talents that connect specifically to the thing you are applying for. Extracurricular involvement, leadership roles, and other types of outstanding achievement may be important to you personally, but it may be totally extraneous. If you include something, ensure to connect it specifically to the goal of the cover letter.

• Be as specific as possible. If you are writing a university cover letter, it is obvious that you have to have a degree to get a job as a doctor, but how did you come to choose this field? Why did you choose this school? What, specifically, do you want to take away from the experience?

• Be careful about using a cover letter to critique a business. It is not the time to describe the suffering of a particular brand over the previous fiscal quarter, then promising that you will be able to turn it around with your ideas. That might not go over well if you are hired, and then you are unable to live up to the promise.

• Even if it is impressive, a high GPA or class ranking does not belong in a cover letter. Highlight it on your resume, but do not include it in two different places of the application.

• Mailing address
• Telephone and/or fax number

Expert Trick : Save time and effort by creating one generic format that you can use for many different job applications by tweaking the specific content for each one. Start with a general introductory paragraph , then a section or two fleshing out your resume and expertise as it relates to the job, and finish it off with a closing paragraph and a note of thanks.

Writing a Short Biography Note

• Pretend you are writing about someone else. Write your name and start describing that person like a character or a friend: "John Smith is the Executive Vice President of Company Inc..."

• If you are a jack of all trades, say so. Do not be afraid to list "actor, musician, mother, motivational speaker, and professional rock climber" if they all apply equally.

• It is common to list degrees that you have received. Pay particular attention to anything that ties into the work you are writing about. If you have special training, include it here.

• "John Smith is the Executive Vice President of Company Inc., in charge of marketing and overseas acquisitions. He received an MBA with distinction from Harvard and lives in Montauk with his cat Cheeto."
• Do not overshare. It can seem funny to immediately start with "John Smith loves rafting and hates eating Cheetos. He's a total boss" and such bio notes can be appropriate for some venues, however be careful to avoid awkward oversharing. Telling everyone about your killer hangover might be best left for after work talk.

• Stephen King, who is one of the most successful and popular authors in recent history, has a bio note that just lists the name of his family members, his hometown, and his pets. Consider leaving out the self-congratulation entirely.

Community Q&A

• Remember that you’re supposed to talk about yourself, it’s the main topic. Don’t talk about your friends or family, even though you may feel tempted to. Thanks Helpful 2 Not Helpful 0
• If you are having a difficult time writing about yourself, search online for examples of personal writing, in order to get some ideas and inspiration. Thanks Helpful 3 Not Helpful 0
• Don't think about how others feel about you. Everyone thinks from a different perspective. Thanks Helpful 3 Not Helpful 0

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• ↑ https://www.indeed.com/career-advice/resumes-cover-letters/how-to-write-about-yourself
• ↑ https://writingcenter.unc.edu/tips-and-tools/brainstorming/
• ↑ https://ohiostate.pressbooks.pub/choosingsources/chapter/narrowing-a-topic/
• ↑ https://www.yourdictionary.com/articles/essay-about-self-writing
• ↑ https://writingcommons.org/article/using-first-person-in-an-academic-essay-when-is-it-okay/
• ↑ https://www.glassdoor.com/blog/6-unconventional-ways-start-cover-letter/
• ↑ https://english.washington.edu/writing-cover-letter
• ↑ https://www.indeed.com/career-advice/career-development/career-goal-statement-examples
• ↑ https://www.indeed.com/career-advice/resumes-cover-letters/resume-vs-cover-letter
• ↑ https://www.indeed.com/career-advice/resumes-cover-letters/whats-the-ideal-cover-letter-length
• ↑ https://www.indeed.com/career-advice/resumes-cover-letters/how-to-format-a-cover-letter-example
• ↑ https://writingcenter.uagc.edu/first-vs-third-person
• ↑ https://www.grammarly.com/blog/how-to-write-bio/

About This Article

If you have to write an autobiographical description of yourself, write down a list of your talents, interests, and accomplishments. Use this list to help you choose one specific topic for your description, such as your academic achievements or your leadership qualities. Use specific, unique details to support your topic, such as being awarded an academic scholarship or the fact that you were president of the newspaper in high school. You can list bits of your personal life, but be careful not to overshare. If you want to write about yourself a cover letter or personal essay, keep reading the article! Did this summary help you? Yes No

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Essays About Myself: Top 5 Essay Examples Plus Prompts

We are all unique individuals, each with traits, skills, and qualities we should be proud of. Here are examples and prompts on essays about myself .

It is good to reflect on ourselves from time to time. When applying for university or a new job, you may be asked to write about yourself to give the institution a better picture of yourself. Self-understanding and reflection are essential if you want to make a compelling argument for yourself.

Reflect on your life: look back on the people you’ve met, the places you’ve been, and the experiences you’ve had, and think about how they have shaped you into the person you have become today. Think of the bigger picture and be sure to consider who you are based on what others think and say about you, not just who you think you are. 

If you are tasked with the prompt, “essays about myself,” keep reading to see some essay examples.

1. It’s My Life by Ann Smith

2. how i see myself by leticia woods, 3. the truth about myself by madeline dyer, 4. what we see in others is a reflection of ourselves by sandra brossman, 5. a letter to myself by gladys mclaughlin, 1. introducing yourself, 2. describing your strengths and weaknesses, 3. what sets you apart from others, 4. your beliefs and values, 5. an experience that has defined you as a person, 6. what family means to you, 7. your favorite pasttime.

“Sure, I’ve had bad experiences in my life too, but this is exactly what made me the way I am now: grateful, full of love, with a desire to study well because it will help me become a successful person in future and have a high quality of life. I believe that it is manifesting day by day and I feel even more responsibility for what I do and where I go. With all I already have, I know that I’m on the right path and I will do my best to inspire others to live the way they feel like living as well.”

In her essay, Smith describes her interests, habits, and qualities. She writes that she is sociable, enthusiastic about studying, and friendly. She also touches on others’ opinions of her- that she is funny. One of Smith’s hobbies is photography, which allowed her to meet her best friend. She aims to study hard so she can be successful on whatever path she may follow, and inspire others to live their best life. 

“It is this drive that will carry me through my degree program and allow me to absorb the education that I receive and develop solid practical applications from this knowledge. I feel that I will eventually become highly successful in my chosen field because my past has clearly shown my commitment to excellence in every endeavor that I have chosen. Because I remain incredibly focused and committed for future success, I know that my future will be as rewarding as my past.”

Woods discusses how her identity helps her achieve her career goals. First, her commitment to her education is a great asset. Second, prior education and her service in the US Air Force allowed her to learn much about life, the world, and herself, and she was able to learn about different cultures. She believes that experience, devotion, and knowledge will allow her to achieve her dreams. 

“I’m getting better as I recover from the brain inflammation which caused my OCD, but I want to have a day like that. A day where I can relax and enjoy life fully again. A day where I haven’t a care in the world. And for that, I need to be kind to myself. I need to relax and remove any pressure I place on myself.”

Dyer reflects on an important part of herself- her Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Brain inflammation has made her a perfectionist, and she cannot relax. She is constantly compelled by an inner voice to do things she “should” be doing. She wants to be happy, and will try to shut off this voice by practicing self-affirmation. You might also be interested in these essays about discovering yourself .

“Believe it or not, forgiving YOURSELF is the most effective way to disengage from negative interactions with people.  We can only love and accept others to the degree that we love and accept ourselves.  When you make it a habit to learn from your relationships, eventually you will discover that you can observe negative traits within others without judgment and without getting hooked into someone else’s drama.”

In her essay, Brossman writes how we see what we desire for ourselves in others. Our relationships help us understand ourselves better; we see people’s bad qualities and criticize them, professing that we will not be like them. On the other hand, we see qualities we like and try to imitate them. To become a better version of yourself, you should learn from your relationships and emulate desirable qualities. 

“I never tell anyone that I am tired of work or study. Success will come to those who get up and go far. This is my life motto which always reminds me of how vital it is to be hard-working and resilient towards failures. I learn that no matter what others say (even mother and father) if their

thoughts contradict my goals, I don’t have to listen to them. Nobody will live your life, and nobody should tell you who you are and what you are.”

Mclaughlin writes a letter to her future self, explaining what she envisions for herself in the coming years. She writes about who she is now and describes her vision for how much better she will be in the future. She believes that she will have great encounters that will teach her about life, a loving, kind family, and an independent spirit that will triumph over all her struggles

Writing Prompts For Essays About Myself

Write a basic description of yourself; describe where you live, your school or job, and your family and friends. You should also give readers a glimpse of your personality- are you outgoing, shy, or sporty? If you want to write more, you can also briefly explain your hobbies, interests, and skills. 

Each of us has our own strengths and weaknesses. Reflect on what you are good at and what you can improve on and select 1-2 from each to write about. Discuss what you can do to work on your weaknesses and improve yourself. 

An essential part of yourself is your uniqueness; for a strong essay about “myself,” think about beliefs, qualities, or values that set you apart from others. Write about one or more, but be sure to explain your choices clearly. You can write about what separates you in the context of your family, friend group, culture, or even society as a whole. 

Your beliefs and values are at the core of your being, as they guide the decisions you make every day. Discuss some of your basic beliefs and values and explain why they are important to you. For a stronger essay, be sure to explain how you use these in day-to-day life; give concrete examples of situations in which these beliefs and values are used. 

We are all shaped by our past experiences. Reflect on an experience, whether that be an achievement, setback, or just a fun memory, and explain its significance to you. Retell the story in detail and describe how it has impacted you and helped make you the person you are today. 

More often than not, family plays a big role in forming us. To give readers a better idea of your identity, describe your idea of family. Discuss its significance, impact, and role in your life. You may also choose to write about how your family has helped shape you into who you are. This should be based on personal experience; refrain from using external sources to inspire you.

Our likes and dislikes are an important part of who we are as well; in your essay, discuss a hobby of yours, preferably one you have been interested in for a long period of time, and explain why you enjoy it so much. You should also write about how it has helped you become yourself and made you a better person.  

Grammarly is one of our top grammar checkers. Find out why in this Grammarly review . If you’re stuck picking your next essay topic, check out our round-up of essay topics about education .

Essay Papers Writing Online

Discovering myself – an essay on self-exploration and personal growth.

Writing an essay about yourself can be both a daunting and rewarding task. It’s an opportunity to delve deep into your own story and share your personal experiences, beliefs, and aspirations with the world. However, many people struggle to strike the right balance between self-expression and humility when writing about themselves.

So, how do you write an essay that captures the essence of who you are, while also engaging and captivating your readers? In this article, we will explore some tips and strategies to help you craft a compelling essay about yourself that leaves a lasting impression.

Key Tips for Crafting

1. Know your audience: Before writing your essay, think about who will be reading it and tailor your content accordingly. Consider your audience’s interests, values, and expectations.

2. Focus on your unique qualities: Highlight what sets you apart from others. Share personal experiences, achievements, and challenges that have shaped you into the person you are today.

3. Be authentic and honest: Avoid exaggerating or fabricating stories about yourself. Admissions officers appreciate genuine, heartfelt essays that reflect your true character.

4. Show, don’t tell: Instead of simply listing your accomplishments, provide vivid examples and anecdotes to illustrate your strengths and attributes. Use descriptive language to bring your story to life.

5. Edit and revise: Proofread your essay for spelling and grammar errors, as well as clarity and coherence. Ask for feedback from friends, teachers, or counselors to gain valuable insights and make necessary improvements.

A captivating tale

Everyone loves a good story, and when it comes to writing an essay about yourself, telling a captivating tale can make your writing stand out. Share a personal experience or anecdote that highlights your unique qualities, challenges you’ve overcome, or lessons you’ve learned. Be descriptive and paint a vivid picture with your words to engage your readers and keep them hooked till the end.

Personal anecdotes

One of the most powerful ways to make your essay about yourself compelling is to include personal anecdotes. These are real-life stories or experiences that showcase your personality, values, or beliefs. Personal anecdotes can help the reader connect with you on a deeper level and make your writing more relatable.

For example, you could share a story about a challenging situation you faced and how you overcame it. Or you could recount a meaningful experience that shaped your worldview. Personal anecdotes add depth and authenticity to your essay, making it more engaging and memorable.

Reflect on experiences

As you write your essay about yourself, take the time to reflect on your past experiences and how they have shaped who you are today. Think about significant events, challenges you’ve overcome, lessons you’ve learned, and achievements you’re proud of. Reflecting on these experiences will not only add depth to your essay but also help you convey a sense of self-awareness and personal growth.

Remember: Be honest and authentic in your reflections. Don’t be afraid to share both the positive and negative experiences that have influenced your journey. Embrace your unique story and let it shine through in your writing.

Stay authentic and honest

When writing about yourself, it’s important to stay true to who you are. Avoid embellishing or exaggerating your achievements or experiences, as this can come across as disingenuous. Be honest about your strengths and weaknesses, and don’t be afraid to show vulnerability. Admissions officers appreciate authenticity, so don’t feel pressured to present a perfect image of yourself. Embrace your unique qualities and share your genuine story.

Highlight achievements

When writing an essay about yourself, it’s important to showcase your achievements. Highlight the accomplishments you are proud of, such as academic achievements, awards, certifications, or recognition for your talents and skills. Make sure to provide specific examples and details that demonstrate your abilities and showcase your strengths.

You can also mention any personal achievements, such as overcoming challenges, volunteering experiences, or personal growth moments. Reflect on how these achievements have shaped you as a person and make you stand out. Remember to be humble and avoid exaggerating your accomplishments.

Showcase your growth

One of the most captivating aspects of writing an essay about yourself is highlighting your personal growth. Whether it’s overcoming challenges, learning from mistakes, or setting and achieving goals, your growth as an individual tells a powerful story. Reflect on the obstacles you’ve faced and how they’ve shaped you into the person you are today. Be honest and vulnerable as you share your journey of growth, and show how each experience has contributed to your development.

Conclude with impact

After showcasing your strengths, experiences, and qualities in the body of your essay, it’s essential to wrap up your essay with a strong conclusion that leaves a lasting impression on the reader. As you conclude your essay about yourself, consider highlighting the key points you’ve discussed and reiterating your main message or theme.

One effective way to conclude your essay is to reflect on how your experiences have shaped you and how they connect to your future goals or aspirations. You can also end your essay with a thought-provoking question, a powerful quote, or a call to action that prompts the reader to think deeply about your story.

Remember that your conclusion is your final opportunity to make a lasting impact on the reader, so make sure it leaves a strong impression and ties everything together effectively.

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How to Write an Essay About Yourself

Gabriel Jimenez-Ekman is a content editor and writer at Scholarships360. He has managed communications and written content for a diverse array of organizations, including a farmer’s market, a concert venue, a student farm, an environmental NGO, and a PR agency. Gabriel graduated from Kenyon College with a degree in sociology.

Learn about our editorial policies

Bill Jack has over a decade of experience in college admissions and financial aid. Since 2008, he has worked at Colby College, Wesleyan University, University of Maine at Farmington, and Bates College.

Writing an essay about yourself is no easy feat — although you may know yourself better than anyone, it can be tough to get the perspective needed to write about yourself in essay form. Despite its challenges, writing essays about yourself is one of the most crucial skills in the college application process, and we have some key tricks to make it easier. Keep on reading to learn about some of our best techniques to write about yourself naturally!

Related: Overview of common scholarship essay prompts

Outline your impactful experiences

Before you dig into prompts, try writing out a bullet-point list of meaningful experiences you’ve had. Underneath each bullet point, reflect on what they might demonstrate. Here’s an example:

Grocery store cashier job

• Working as part of a team
• Learning to balance school and work responsibilities
• Honing communication skills

Writer for school newspaper

• Developing writing skills
• Fostering a passion for my school community
• Learning to meet deadlines and balance responsibilities

Volunteer at local animal shelter

• Learning to balance school and volunteer responsibilities
• Gaining an attention to detail

This is a little different than a typical resume — rather than focusing on your specific duties, try to focus on how the experience shaped your character. If you notice a lot of overlap between the experiences, that’s perfect! You can point out these recurring themes to make for an effective essay with a strong overarching point. Making lists like this early on in your writing stage can be helpful, and you may find yourself coming back to consult the list for many future essays.

Also recommended: Top essay & writing scholarships

Ask friends and family for input

When writing about yourself, it is important to reflect on your strengths. Consulting family and friends is a great way to learn about strengths that you might not even know you had. Your friends choose to hang out with you for a reason, and they often notice your good qualities that you take for granted. Having your friends point these out can be useful for an essay, as well as a general pick-me-up!

And if you’re looking for a perfect anecdote to answer a prompt like “How have you demonstrated a commitment to your community ,” who better to remember your past acts of kindness than your parents? 

Is it okay to ask friends and family to read my essay and offer feedback?

The short answer is: absolutely! Additional essay reviewers can offer valuable feedback as you write your essay. With this said, students should make sure that they are maintaining their own voice in the essay. Outside reviewers should not be rewriting the essay or having a heavy hand in changing the written voice.

Don’t miss: How to respond to the Common App essay prompts

Don’t be too humble

There is a time and a place for humility. But don’t worry if you feel like your essay is verging on the braggadocios. These essays are an opportunity to showcase your best qualities, and you should not be worried about putting your best foot forward and telling the reader all the reasons why they should be impressed by you.

What makes these essays effective is that they both include your relevant experiences and demonstrate why they are so significant. You may feel as though you are making mountains out of molehills, but it’s important to emphasize the importance of your experiences. This is the main objective of writing about yourself!

Also recommended: How to write a 500 word essay

Let your personality come through

Most essays written about yourself will be written in first-person. This provides a perfect opportunity to add some flair to your writing. While your first priority is to include impactful examples and communicate your points effectively, it is also important to leave a lasting impression on the reader.

If you see an opportunity to show off your sense of humor or use a more personal tone, don’t be afraid to do it. As long as your remarks are appropriate, on-topic, and not too frequent, they can help put you ahead of the pack.

Recommended: How does an admissions officer read your application and essays?

Try journaling

A great trick for becoming comfortable writing essays about yourself is to try keeping a journal. Journaling helps eliminate the pressure of writing an essay while helping you become comfortable writing about yourself in an informal setting. Spending 10 or 15 minutes every night writing about your day, or answering some informal prompts can help you to get more in touch with yourself and jog your memory about past events that could be useful for an essay. 

Key Takeaways

• Think carefully through the experiences you’ve had that have made an impact on who you are
• Utilize the people around you who know you best and ask for their thoughts about your essay
• Don’t worry too much about sounding too pompous, this essay is supposed to help the reader get to know you
• Finally, don’t overthink your essay too much; you’ve got this

Additional resources

Scholarships360 is the go-to for all things college admissions and scholarships! Wondering how to write a  250 word essay  and how to write a  500 word essay ? We can help! Check out our essay guides for the Common App and for supplemental essays . Best of luck to you, and make sure you apply for all the scholarships you qualify for while you are eligible! 

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9 Tips for Writing an Essay About Yourself

You know yourself better than anyone else, but writing about yourself can still be tough! When applying for scholarships or to college, essay prompts  can feel so general (and yet so specific!) that they leave us stumped.  So we’ll show you 8 tips to write an essay about yourself, so that you can land more scholarships. (Psst – Going Merry makes applying easy .)

1. Create a List of Questions

2. brainstorm and outline, 3. be vulnerable, 4. use personal examples, 5. write in the first person, 6. don’t be afraid to show off…but stay on topic, 7. show personality , 8. know your audience, 9. proofread and edit.

Let’s start with some examples of personal essay prompts:

• Tell me about yourself.
• Describe a challenge or event that made you who you are today.
• What are your short and long-term goals, and how do you plan to achieve them?
• Write about a time you failed at something. How did it affect you?

These are just a few of many scholarship essay prompts that require you to look internally, to answer a question, solve a problem, or explain a scenario in your life.  

We get it. You might not be a big fan of bragging about yourself, or you might want to keep your personal stories to yourself. But by opening up and sharing your story, you can show scholarship providers, colleges and universities who you are, and why you’re deserving of their scholarship.

(Don’t just take our word for it – check out our scholarship winners page full of students like you who were brave enough to share their stories with us).

To get started, check out these 9 tips on how to write an essay about yourself:

After reading through the scholarship essay prompt, breathe, and make a list of smaller questions you can answer, which relate to the big essay prompt question. 

Let’s say the main essay prompt question asks you, “What were challenges or barriers you had to work to overcome?” Then the smaller questions might be something like:

• What is your background? Family, finances, school.
• What was challenging about that background?
• What’s your greatest accomplishment? How did you get there? How have previous challenges influenced your goals?

Think of these questions as mini-prompts. They explain your story and help you answer the main essay prompt with more details than if you just answered it without a plan in place.

After considering smaller questions, it’s time to brainstorm your answers.  Take out a pen and paper – or open up a document on a computer – and take your time in answering each mini-prompt. Organize your responses in order:

• Intro to main essay prompt.
• Answer about 3 mini-prompt questions.
• Conclude by rewriting the answer to the main essay prompt with a summary of your mini-prompt answers.

This organization will help you stay on topic and answer the prompt directly. (Or check out these 6 scholarship essay examples for alternative essay structures.)

Don’t be afraid to let your strengths, challenges, and personal stories shine through in your essay! Scholarship and admissions committees love to see that you’re self-aware how you can improve as a person, or how you’ve grown because of your experiences. Honest writing can help tell the best stories (in this case, YOUR story).

Since this essay is all about you , you should make your answer as specific as possible! Avoid using generalizations (e.g., “I’m really good at music). Instead, go for more personalized statements (e.g., “My fourth-grade teacher Ms. Matay really inspired me to pursue my interest in the clarinet”). Your personal examples are what will help your scholarship essay stand out among the thousands of applicants..

 You’re telling your story, so write from your perspective! You can narrate your story. You can provide an overview of what you learned from your experiences. However you choose to answer the prompt, we recommend writing in an active tone, and using “I” and “me” throughout your essay.

Most students worry about bragging in their essay, but we say go for it! This is your time to shine, so highlight your accomplishments and strengths.  Review your essay to make sure that you’re keeping the tone informative and that you’re still on topic. (Brag while answering the essay prompt; don’t just mention random, unrelated but impressive facts about yourself!)You can use this brag sheet where you can brainstorm your accomplishments. While the worksheet is geared toward requesting letters of recommendation , you can still use it to write out your hobbies, interests, college list , and strengths to help you answer your scholarship essay prompt.

Just because it’s an essay doesn’t mean it has to be dry and boring. This essay is all about you, so let your personality shine through. If you’re the class clown, you can use a bit of humor. If you wear your heart on your sleeve, don’t be afraid to show emotion. Trying your best to express who you are as a person will have a huge effect on the admissions or scholarship committee!

If you’re applying for a scholarship, research the scholarship provider. If you’re applying to college, research the school. Understanding what makes the provider/college unique and what their motivations are, will allow you to incorporate that information in your essay. For example, many scholarships are funded by private companies that sell products. You might want to reference those products in your essay. A good example of this is Emily Trader’s essay for the Life Happens organization , where she uses her personal narrative to explain the importance of insurance planning, since that is the mission of the organization (which is funded by insurance companies).

The last step in answering your essay prompt is to double-check your work! One typo can be distracting and cause scholarship providers to scratch their head while reading the essay. ( Psst, humble brag: Going Merry’s application platform includes spellcheck because we’ve got your back .) In addition to proofreading for typos and grammatical errors, also consider whether the sentence or paragraph structure makes sense. Are you breaking paragraphs in the right place? Are you using topic sentences well to signpost your main ideas? Does the essay flow? Consider these “bigger” structural questions too.  You might also want to ask a friend, family member, teacher, or guidance counselor to review your essay. They might catch something you didn’t see the first time around, and that can really help your essay! In fact, that is scholarship winner Daniel Gill ’s #1 tip. (Another tip is to apply for scholarships using Going Merry !)

Also, check out this helpful list of the 10 most common scholarship essay topics while you’re brainstorming!

Now that you know how to write an essay about yourself, it’s time to start applying for scholarships! Remember: You’ve got this. 

Sign up for your free Going Merry profile . From there, you can easily upload and submit your essay for thousands of scholarships. We make it easy so you’ll only need to enter your profile information once! And then, you can apply away. In fact, we even have some bundled scholarships so that you only enter your essay once, to apply for multiple scholarships at the same time.

Or if you’re not ready to register, simply sign up to receive an email with 20 new scholarship opportunities each week. Just enter your email address below:

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How to Write a Short Essay About Yourself: Step-By-Step

Updated 06/4/2022

Published 06/19/2020

Yvonne Bertovich

Contributing writer

Cake values integrity and transparency. We follow a strict editorial process to provide you with the best content possible. We also may earn commission from purchases made through affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases. Learn more in our affiliate disclosure .

Writing or even talking about yourself may not come easily to you. However, for professional or educational reasons, it’s often a necessity. There are other instances when writing about yourself may make more sense, as you can provide the rawest and most honest perspective.

Jump ahead to these sections:

Steps for writing about yourself, tips for writing about yourself creatively or confidently.

• Examples of Things to Write About Yourself

You should feel empowered—not intimidated—in taking on a writing project about yourself. Use it as a way to challenge how you view your own experiences, talents, and more. We’ll discuss some steps for writing about yourself as well as provide a few examples.  

Writing isn’t for everyone, especially when it’s required. As much as you may dislike it, following the steps below can help the process go that much more smoothly.

If you find that following a different order than what we’ve recommended for you works better for your process, feel free to adjust accordingly. 

Step 1: Determine your purpose 

What’s causing you to write this “thing” about yourself? What exactly are you writing? It may surprise you that people write all kinds of pieces for themselves—even writing your own obituary isn’t out of the question anymore. 

The more specific you can get with yourself about your purpose will help the rest of the process. If it’s something stressful, like a college admission essay or a cover letter, try to frame the project in a different light. 

For example, “I’m writing this essay to show people my heart and how passionate I am about removing disparities and barriers in healthcare. I believe in my abilities, and I want to further my education, so I can help heal people.”

Step 2: Ask yourself some questions 

For any good piece of writing, there has to be fact behind it (if even these facts are abstract in narrative or fiction). The best way to gather facts about any subject is to ask a variety of questions, both soft- and hard-hitting. 

You may ask these questions internally, during research, or directly and literally. Treat this question step as a self-interview.

Here are some questions to ask yourself . You may also ask yourself:

• What is my goal of writing this piece?
• What themes or ideas do I want to focus on?
• What are my strengths and weaknesses?
• What are some important lessons I’ve learned?
• What do I want others to know or understand about me?

Step 3: Organize your answers 

After asking yourself the example questions above as well as others, you should be sure to write down your answers and begin organizing them if you haven’t already. 

It may be tempting to just answer your own questions in your head as you go—but don’t. This will just make the writing step more difficult. You may think that you’ll remember every good point or profound thought you come up with, but memory is a tricky thing. 

If you’re working through your questions during a time when you’re not ready or able to sit down and type or scribble them out, at least make some notes in your phone or in a journal so you can have some descriptive hints for later. No matter how big of an epiphany you may have, it’s possible you’ll forget it. 

Step 4: Write a draft 

If your ideas are already fairly organized, writing your draft should come fairly easily to you. The draft process, however, is when you can start spicing things up with anecdotes, your own personal voice, themes, metaphors—all that fun stuff. The point in you writing something about yourself for yourself is for the very reason that you can make it unquestionably you .

Dull, watered-down words or even over-hyped language from a thesaurus plug-in isn’t going to impress anyone. Writing something about yourself (unless the assignment is creative or unorthodox) isn’t the time to act like something you’re not.

All of this being said, don’t stress yourself out too much. Letting your ideas flow freely and then editing or revising them later is how you should approach the process anyway. You don’t want to put too many restrictions on your ideas from the get-go. Warring with yourself about your ideas while writing is only going to tire you out sooner. 

Think about it—you may spend hours trying to write a piece while overthinking that’s no better than a draft you could have written in 30 minutes on the fly. Not being totally in love with your first draft is normal. It just allows you that much more room to improve. 

Step 5: Put your progress aside

Much like during the draft process, it’s very possible to overthink your work after it’s mostly done. If you constantly keep re-reading it or rehashing your ideas in your head, they may start to sound odd, or you may try to add where you need to trim. 

For example, the same concept applies to repeating the same word over and over aloud — it’ll likely start to sound strange or even wrong the more you hear it. This also applies to music — ever play a song you love over and over till you hate it? 

You need to give your words and your brain some time to rest away from each other until you try to make any drastic edits or changes. That being said, you may love what you’ve written already and decide you don’t need to change a thing—that’s great!

Step 6: Review and edit

After your break, you can pick up your writing once again. Read it with a critical eye. Go back and think deeply about your purpose and any provided prompts. Have you answered everything you intended to or are required to?

It’s not uncommon—though devastating—to write an entire piece only to realize you wrote from the wrong frame of reference or focused on the wrong issue. For example, if you were asked to write about a challenge you overcame in your life by following an important virtue, but you only wrote about winning a basketball championship and not the struggle behind it, this may miss the mark. 

If you find a good number of issues in your work, don’t feel tempted to scrap the entire thing. What may work instead is to copy and paste your writing line-by-line into a new document. This way, you can save as much as possible while being sure to resolve even small discrepancies.

Step 7: Finalize your work

After you’ve undergone the brutal process of self-editing (or enlisting help from someone else you trust) you can prepare yourself for the home stretch. Finalizing your work shouldn’t take very long.

Y our process may differ; however, it’ll likely come down to reading over your work a few more times just to make sure you haven’t missed words, punctuation, or proper grammar. 

It’s OK to use this step to feel proud of yourself, too. You may not take a lot of time to reflect on your life and everything you’ve been through—it’s important to practice self-love in this way and celebrate your accomplishments.

Talking or writing about yourself may not be everyone’s cup of tea. For example, did you need to provide a fun fact recently but draw a blank? You’re not alone. In fact, many people have a false assumption that they’re boring. 

On the flip side, perhaps you’re used to talking about yourself, or, at least you’ve got the “fake it till you make it” type of confidence down-pat. However, you too can only benefit from adding a bit more razzle-dazzle to your spiels and writing assignments. Here are a few tips for writing about yourself creatively or confidently.  

Allow yourself space

If you have an upcoming project or writing assignment that has you on edge, consider stepping away. Even if you don’t consider yourself an outdoorsy person, a walk around the block may help you breathe and get your creativity flowing. Naturally, the more sound your idea or angle, the more confident you’ll feel about your upcoming performance.  

Keep that ego in check

An underinflated ego is just as bad as an overinflated one. Pay close attention to your internal dialogue when approaching new projects or writing tasks (or, honestly anything that comes up during your day). How much of what swirls around in your mind is fact? How much of it is just fleeting thoughts or opinions? You are not your thoughts, and you always have choices. Make good ones and be kind to yourself. 

Try this: Instead of thinking to yourself, “Wow, this is a really complex writing assignment. I can’t do this.” Or, “How am I ever going to get into my dream school with this essay? I’m not a strong writer.” 

Change your internal dialogue to, “I have good ideas. I may not have my plan figured out right now, but I’ll get it done,” or, “I have so many great skills to bring to the table and I am very passionate about what’s brought me here. I will convey this the best I can.”

Crowdsource

Sometimes an outside opinion can give us much-needed perspective. Ask your friends, family, loved ones, or coworkers to describe you in a few words or even in abstract ways. Don’t view this as you’re fishing for compliments. Ask your loved ones for honesty, as this insight can only help you when writing about yourself. 

Build up a fuel bank

Pulling inspiration out of thin air may not always be possible. However, if you build up a few reliable sources of inspiration, the next time a project hits, you’ll be prepared. You can fuel your creativity and confidence in a variety of ways. 

For example, you can create certain playlists for different moods, save favorite art or graphics in a digital folder or keep printed versions in your home or office, write down affirmations or notes-to-self in a journal or app, and so on. 

Reflect on past accomplishments and setbacks

Even if you aren’t a fan of journaling, writing about yourself is far easier if you take the time to reflect, if only mentally. If you know you have a deadline to write about yourself in the near future, you may want to physically or mentally jot down a few real-life examples or experiences that come to mind. 

But how do you get in the right headspace to reflect? What if you only witness recurring thoughts about past events while trying to fall asleep? Be sure to practice the first tip in this section: Give yourself some space to think. For once, limit the distractions, keep all other screens put away or turn on your "do not disturb" feature.

Now, think about some past accomplishments or setbacks that may not even seem relevant to the topic of the assignment. You may have an epiphany about unrelated things or discover something about how you operate. For example, you might realize that you feel less nervous in social and professional settings if you call out your anxiety as being excited. 

Examples of Writing About Yourself

Even if you feel super confident about writing about yourself now, we wanted to provide a few short examples to help you get started. Your tone, word choice, and more may differ depending on which piece you’re working on.

Here are some tips for writing or publishing your life story you may also find helpful. 

In a memoir or essay

Those were probably the best and the worst days of my life. I had never felt more happy and never felt more sad. I felt as though I were so close to having everything I had ever wanted, yet it seemed with every step forward, I had to take two steps back. It was exhausting. How did I get through it? To be quite honest, I have no damn idea. 

Perspective helped. I knew I could have had it way worse; I knew that my struggle wasn’t unique. I knew, too, that even when the small wins would come they’d have yet another loss right on their tails. I paid dearly for having too much heart and optimism, so I regularly had to hose myself down with logic and pessimism. 

On your blog or website

If you’re reading this, it’s too late. Just kidding! That’s just a really good Drake album. I wanted to take some time to talk about what’s been going on in my life lately for those of you who are nosey enough to care. Again, kidding, I know some of you really care. I’m so grateful to have even this small following that I have. It’s wild, really. Who would have thought that people want to know what’s going on in my head at any given time? Joke’s on you guys, though, because I don’t fully know all the time. 

I guess I’ll start off by saying that work has been a whirlwind. As you all know, it isn’t an easy time for anyone, so please don’t take this declaration as a complaint. I’m thrilled to still have a job despite everything going on. However, leaving this reflection at just that would be doing both myself and you all a disservice. It’s weak. It doesn’t really describe what’s been going on. Allow me to continue.  

In a college essay

When I was young, my grandmother told me I couldn’t please everyone — that some people just wouldn’t like me for no reason at all. This was very hard for me to swallow at times. What does this have to do with who I am today and why I plan to attend your university? 

Well, this early lesson demonstrates that in order for this world to keep spinning, we all have to be unwavering in our own pursuits. We are ourselves. We can’t be anyone else. In that, we all have the responsibility to bring our unique talents, wisdom, and heart to the table — even when we’re seated across from people who may not like us. 

Sometimes Only You Can Do It

Writing about yourself may always be challenging for you, but who better to do so than who knows you best? If you work through the process in every situation and give yourself some patience, there’s no question that you can’t craft something amazing. You may also be interested in this article about how to write family stories .

Your written words mean more than you think. This becomes a part of your legacy when you're gone, and it's one of the ways you'll be remembered. While many families choose custom urns from Foreverence or even to craft memorial diamonds from Eterneva , your words are something that live after you're gone.

While it might not seem natural at first, learning to write about yourself, your perspective, and your experiences carries a lot of significance. Who knows who might read these words when you're gone?

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•    How to Write an About Myself Essay With Example

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How to write an about myself essay with example.

• Chloe Daniel
• Published On: July 09 ,2021

Getting Started

When you may have to write about yourself.

• Career advancement opportunities
• Internship inquiry letters
• Biographies
• Graduate school applications
• Cover letters
• Grant proposals

How to Write an Essay About Myself?

• Introduce yourself.
• Make sure to include your most important professional experience.
• Talk about significant awards or personal achievements.
• Introduce details about your personal life.
• Use a friendly and casual tone unless stated otherwise. 

What Else Do You Need to Include in Your Self Introduction Essay? 

• The things you want to learn.
• Your aspirations and dreams.
• The things you are good at.
• Your hobbies.

A Sample About Myself Essay

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Essay on My Self for Students and Children

500+ words essay on my self.

Seven billion people are on this Earth, and everybody is different from the rest of others. There is nothing without purpose in this world. Everything has some purpose. Humans are the best creation, and each person is exclusive. Thus, writing about myself, I’m here to express myself that what I see, what I experience and what I plan for my life. I try myself to be modest, passionate, devoted, hardworking and honest.

My Family and My Childhood

I’m from a middle-class family of Bihar, I am Naresh Shukla. Nobody comes in this world, without the support of family and friends. Actually, whatever you will be, it is just because of your family. My father is a respectable businessman in our community.

My mother is a doctor. They both love their occupation. That’s I have learned from my parents the value of time, honesty, hard work and commitment to the purpose.

We are three brothers and sisters. Being the eldest I am the most liable from my brothers and sisters. I am wanted to guide and take care of my other siblings. We all are in the same school. Reading is my passion.

I am a keen reader of novels and history books as I have a strong interest in Indian History and classical architecture. I love to read books that refer to the rich history and civilization of ancient India.  At my pre-childhood, I used to listen to stories from my grandmother, and this has a long-lasting effect on me.

Get the huge list of more than 500 Essay Topics and Ideas

My Education

I am studying at the best school in my city. I am presently in class 10th. I feel happy to be a part of this great school with the good friends, helpful and loving teacher and sound school administration. I have extraordinary skills in some subjects whereas I am very weak in the few.

My Strengths

In compare to studies, I am good at sports. so I am the captain of my class football team. I am the best football player at my school. Besides this, I am a fast runner also and I love athletics. I am in expert swimming.

The advice of my parents had a keen effect on my habits. I believe to speak the truth and try my best not to lie. My parents always advised me that if I commit a mistake, I should admit it. I try my best to do so. I know how to remain happy in every condition. Because I believe that: “Happiness is not out there; it’s in you.”

I am a very adventurous person too and like to take the risk. I like to do a creative thing besides doing old stuff again and again. Learning new things is one thing which I always enjoy. I always update myself with the news.

Along with this, I fond of reading a few children magazines in which different motivational stories are there. They taught me a high moral lesson. I am a very confident person and know how to talk. I always try to speak to every person according to his requirement so I understand people.

My Weaknesses

As every man have weaknesses, so have also. I am a little bit lazy at some places which I do not like. While playing time, I pass my lot of time there which is not a good habi t, but I try my best to overcome my weaknesses.

My Ambitions in Life

Everybody has an ambition in life . Aim or ambition is the inner aspiration of man. No man can do anything in the world without aim. So, all of us should be very determined about our aim in life.

Without good career planning, right from the start, one can’t be on the right track. One has to set the goals in accordance with his or her broad career goals.

I have studied biology and I will seat for the competitive entrance exam for admission to reputed medical college. I shall try to be a good and honest student. Then I shall be a qualified doctor. I will do all that to be a good doctor and will be sincere to it.

These are all the things which express me. Though nobody can be described in a few sets of sentences. One needs to have yet command of oneself before going to write something about his life. Life is meant to be lived avidly and with visualization to do good for your fellow beings. Keeping this aim in mind, I have always desired to serve my people in whatever capacity I can.

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How to Write an Effective “About Me” Page (Examples Included!) 

An “About Me” page is one of the most crucial elements of any personal website, portfolio , or blog. It’s where visitors get to know who you are, what you do, and why they should care. Whether you're a freelancer , entrepreneur , or creative professional , this page can make or break a visitor’s first impression of you.

Let’s dive into the essentials of creating a standout one pager about yourself, provide actionable tips, and share examples to inspire you.

Add an “About Me” to your resume or portfolio and then put it to the test! Apply to these open jobs on The Muse »

What is an “About Me” page?

An “About Me” page is a dedicated section on your website where you introduce yourself to your visitors. This page goes beyond a simple biography and a list of your credentials; it's an opportunity to convey your personality, share your story, and connect with your audience on a deeper level. 

It often includes key elements such as a brief professional summary , personal anecdotes, and highlights of your skills and experiences. By providing a narrative of your journey, accomplishments, and aspirations, you create a relatable and authentic presence that can engage and build trust with your visitors.

An “About Me” page serves multiple purposes:

• It outlines your mission and vision, helping visitors understand what motivates you and what sets you apart.
• It can serve as a platform to showcase testimonials, notable projects, and any media coverage or recognition you have received.
• Your story helps humanize your brand. People connect with people, not faceless entities. 
• It lets visitors know what they can expect from your site and how you can help them.
• A well-crafted “About Me” page can improve your website’s SEO for Google by incorporating relevant keywords and phrases.

Where can you usually find “About Me” pages? 

An “About Me” can be a valuable addition to various platforms and contexts. Here are some common uses:

• Personal website: Whether it’s a blog or a personal brand site, an “About Me” page helps visitors understand who you are and why they should follow you.
• Portfolio: For creatives like designers, writers , and photographers, an “About Me” page showcases your background and expertise, helping potential clients or employers get to know you better.
• Resume: Adding an “About Me” section to your online resume provides a personal touch and highlights your unique strengths and career journey.
• Business website: Entrepreneurs and small business owners can use an “About Me” page to share their story, mission, and the values behind their business.
• Freelance profiles: On freelance platforms, an “About Me” page can differentiate you from other freelancers by highlighting your experience and skills.
• Social media profiles: Sites like LinkedIn benefit from a detailed “About Me” section, helping you network and connect with potential employers or collaborators.
• Author pages: For writers and authors, an “About Me” page helps readers connect with you on a personal level and understand the inspiration behind your work.
• E-commerce sites: Store owners can add an “About Me” page to build trust with customers by sharing their journey and the story behind their products.
• Professional associations: Members of professional organizations can use an “About Me” page to share their professional background, expertise, and contributions to their field.

Checklist for “About Me” pages 

What to include in an “About Me” page? Effective content should include the following elements:

• Your name and profession : Clearly state who you are and what you do.
• A photo : Adding a photo humanizes your profile and makes it more relatable.
• Your story : Share your background, journey, and what inspired you to pursue your path.
• Your values and mission : Explain what drives you and what you aim to achieve.
• Your skills and expertise : Highlight your key skills, qualifications, and achievements.
• Testimonials : If applicable, include testimonials from clients or colleagues to build credibility.
• Contact information : Provide a way for visitors to get in touch with you.

How to write an “About Me” in 5 steps

Writing an “About Me” page involves balancing personal storytelling with professional insights. Here are five tips to help structure yours.

1. Start with a strong—and catchy—opening

Begin with a compelling hook that grabs the reader’s attention. This could be an interesting fact, a personal anecdote, or a bold statement about your mission.

2. Who are you?

Provide a brief introduction that includes your name, profession, and a high-level overview of what you do. Make sure to keep it concise and engaging.

3. Tell your story

Narrate your journey—how you got started, the challenges you’ve overcome, and the milestones you’ve achieved. This is where you can infuse your personality and make your story relatable.

4. Highlight your expertise

Explain what you do and how you can help your audience. Call out your skills , qualifications, and any notable accomplishments.

5. Include a call to action (CTA)

A call to action is a prompt that tells your visitors what to do next, like contacting you, following you on social media, or checking out your portfolio. Make sure your CTA is clear and compelling so they know exactly what action to take.

Bonus tips on writing an “About Me” page

To write an “about me” paragraph that not only introduces you effectively but also engages your audience and enhances your online presence, follow these recommendations:

• Know your audience: Understand who you are writing for. Tailor your tone and content to resonate with your target audience.
• Be authentic : Authenticity is key. Be genuine in your storytelling and avoid overly formal language.
• Keep it concise: While it’s important to provide enough detail, avoid overwhelming your readers with too much information. Aim for clarity and brevity.
• Use visuals: Incorporate photos, videos, or infographics to make your page visually appealing and engaging.
• Optimize for SEO: Incorporate relevant keywords naturally throughout your “About Me” page to improve search engine visibility.
• Update regularly: Your “About Me” page should evolve as you grow. Regularly update it to reflect new experiences, skills, and achievements.

“About Me” template text

How to write an “About Me”? Here’s a simple and general template to get you started:

[Your name]

[Your profession/title]

Introduction:

Hi, I’m [Your name], a [Your profession] with [number] years of experience in [your field]. I’m passionate about [your passion] and have dedicated my career to [your mission].

Your story:

My journey began [describe how you started]. Over the years, I’ve [mention key milestones and achievements]. My work has been featured in [mention notable publications or collaborations].

Your expertise:

I specialize in [mention your key skills and areas of expertise]. My clients have included [mention notable clients or projects].

Call to action:

If you’d like to [mention what you want your readers to do next – contact you, follow you, etc.], feel free to [provide contact details or a CTA].

“About Me” page examples for different scenarios

You might be looking for information on how to write your “About Me” page for your new blog, maybe your LinkedIn profile, or other context. These could have some differences, so find the “About Me” paragraph example that suits you best.

For a website: “About Me” blog example

Hi, I’m Sarah, a passionate travel blogger who has visited over 50 countries. I share my adventures, tips, and travel guides to help you plan your next trip. My journey began in 2010 when I left my corporate job to explore the world. Since then, I’ve been featured in numerous travel magazines and have collaborated with top travel brands. Follow along as I explore new destinations and share my insights.

Portfolio “About Me” example

Hello! I’m Mark, a freelance graphic designer with over 10 years of experience in creating stunning visuals for brands. My work includes logo design, branding, and digital marketing materials. I started my career working for a design agency, but my passion for creativity led me to freelance. My clients include Fortune 500 companies and startups alike. Take a look at my portfolio to see my work and let’s collaborate on your next project.

For your resume: What is an example of best “About Me”?

I’m Emily, a marketing professional with a decade of experience in digital marketing and brand strategy. I specialize in SEO, content marketing, and social media management. My career highlights include leading successful campaigns for high-profile clients and earning industry awards. I’m currently seeking new opportunities to leverage my skills and drive impactful marketing initiatives.

Other type of site: “About Me” example

As a bestselling author, I’ve always been passionate about storytelling. My journey began with a love for reading, which soon transformed into writing my own stories. Over the years, I’ve published five novels and numerous short stories. My work explores themes of love, loss, and resilience, drawing inspiration from my personal experiences. When I’m not writing, you can find me at book signings or conducting writing workshops.

3 strategies to help college students pick the right major the first time around and avoid some big hassles

Postdoctoral Research Fellow in Educational Psychology at the United States Coast Guard Academy, University of Connecticut

Disclosure statement

Rachael Cody does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

University of Connecticut provides funding as a member of The Conversation US.

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Not long after new college students have finished choosing the college that is right for them , they are asked to declare an academic major. For some students, this decision is easy, as their majors may have actually influenced their choice of college. Unfortunately, this decision is not always an easy one to make, and college students frequently change their minds.

For instance, according to the National Center for Education Statistics, 30% of undergraduates changed their major at least once.

While it may be common for undergraduates to change their major, it can cause them to lose time, money and opportunities . Students who experience the loss of these resources may be at risk for dropping out of college altogether .

While earning a Ph.D. in educational psychology , I conducted a study that highlighted students’ experiences upon changing their majors. I wanted to know why students made the switch and what that experience was like.

The results of my study showed that students became disoriented about their majors during their undergraduate education. Oftentimes, they were influenced by professors and advisers who were dismissive of their aspirations and abilities . These students experienced failure , which sometimes ruined their motivation. Failure may be commonplace in certain majors, but these students believed themselves to be outliers, viewing failure as a hit to their self-esteem .

So, what is a college student to do when faced with such an important decision? It is tempting to give into fear, indecisiveness or worry. But rest assured, using the following strategies to select the right major will also help sustain your motivation when the going gets tough.

1. Make a career plan

Creating a career plan is one of the ways that students can bolster their chances of success in their chosen majors. When creating a career plan, think about the career that you want to have in the future and consider the academic and professional paths that could lead to that career. Researchers have found that students who made career plans were more likely to persist in their academic majors.

When making a career plan, you should reflect on your beliefs about work, your interest in various academic subjects and your abilities. Exploring these factors may be one of the reasons why students who complete career plans are more likely to stick with their majors . Use your reflections to guide you as you search for careers that you would enjoy. Then, identify a specific career and outline the steps that you will have to take during your time at college that will help prepare you for that career.

2. Do your research

College students sometimes drop out of their selected majors because they have become disenchanted with the academic area they have chosen . Or they may find themselves more attracted to a different academic major altogether. For others, the desire to switch majors may occur after they get a taste of what it is like to work in that field, particularly during work-placement opportunities. One study found this to be true for some nursing majors , who shared that their first clinical placements showed them that they were not well suited to perform the duties of a nurse.

To avoid these sorts of outcomes, it is important to do your research about the job that you are interested in pursuing, as well as any related jobs. Is there one that would be better suited to your abilities and your preferences? Is there someone you can talk to who can tell you more about what an average day looks like at a particular job? Ask yourself which aspects of the job you could see yourself enjoying, as well as the parts of the job that you think you might dislike. While it is possible to switch out of your major once your interests become more apparent, you will save a good deal of time and energy by initially choosing a major that is aligned with your interests and abilities.

3. Brace yourself for challenge

It may come as a surprise when you are presented with incredibly challenging material during your first semester at college. Students who were at the top of their class may be particularly shocked when they receive their first low grade on an exam. You should not assume, however, that you have made the wrong choice of academic major simply because you performed poorly on one test. Negative feedback from college advisers and instructors can influence a student’s choice to switch out of their major.

The possibility of failure can be so discouraging to students that they can lose their ambition on the first day of class , before they have experienced any academic failure at all. Hold on to the confidence that guided you to select your major in the first place, and prepare yourself for the academic challenges that await you in whichever major you choose.

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• Higher ed attainment
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Artists and Activists Both Have a Role. But Not the Same One.

As the literary world is roiled by fights over politics and war, are we losing sight of the writer’s purpose?

Credit... Photo illustration by Derek Brahney

Supported by

By Phil Klay

Phil Klay is a novelist and an essayist and a Marine Corps veteran of the Iraq war.

• Aug. 5, 2024

Two decades ago, I was a public-affairs officer in the Marine Corps, a public-relations guy for the military, tasked with “telling the Marine Corps story” and providing accurate information about military operations to maintain the trust of the American people. We weren’t propagandists — we told the truth, and in Iraq we welcomed plenty of embedded reporters who we knew would write extremely skeptical articles on the progress of the war — but there were fairly tight borders around what the military thought the American people needed to know.

Listen to this article, read by Robert Petkoff

Coming back from Iraq in 2008, though, I had a set of stories that didn’t fit perfectly with the official one I had a license to tell. Some were things I’d seen, things I could report on in a journalistic way, sure of the facts, but others were things I’d heard, stories that I couldn’t vouch for personally but that, passed to me by word of mouth and preserved in my memory, that unstable medium, nevertheless seemed to express something true and unsettling.

One was told to me by a young combat correspondent, a Marine whose job in the corps was writing articles and making videos about the work we were doing. He had been in Ramadi when a suicide bomber detonated among a crowd of civilians, killing and grievously wounding dozens. The local unit took the injured to the Ramadi combat hospital, where Navy doctors, nurses and corpsmen got to work as Marines lined up to donate blood.

Horrible slaughter in a region of Iraq where violence has spiraled out of control does not make for a good news story, but there were messages the Marine Corps was happy to put out: that unlike our barbaric enemy, who brutally murdered men, women and children, we cared about Iraqi civilians and would work tirelessly to save lives. And so this young combat correspondent asked one of the Navy surgeons, who for long hours had been feverishly working among the mangled and bloody innocents, to give an interview. And because the only quiet place was the room where they had placed and bagged the dead, the cameraman set up near the bodies of all the people they had failed to save.

Undoubtedly, the doctor knew what messages he was supposed to deliver to the camera, and undoubtedly, he believed in them, too — that he had a noble mission to carry out, and that his noble colleagues were dedicated and skilled and humane. Nor was he new to death. He was a surgeon in a shock-trauma platoon in the most violent city in Iraq, all too familiar with amputating limbs, with stitching intestines back together, with treating burns that devoured faces, ears and fingers. That day could not have been the first time he bowed his head as the chaplain whispered prayers over those who died on the table. But before the interview started and the red light of the camera turned on, he took a moment, sat down among the dead and quietly wept. The young Marine cameraman stood there, silent, patient, and waited for the doctor to collect himself so he could tell his story about the good will of the American military, whose invasion had unleashed this chaos.

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