Right, let’s talk about the thing that makes every writer I know reach for their favourite excuses: the author bio. You know, that deceptively simple little paragraph (or five) where you’re supposed to compress your entire existence into a few hundred words that make everyone just a little bit jealous.
First, let’s point out the elephant in the pyjamas. We’re writers, which means we spend most of our time alone in our rooms making things up. Our most exciting daily activity is usually choosing which coffee shop not to go to because... well... outside. Yet somehow, we’re expected to craft a bio that makes us sound like we’re worthy of shelf space next to people who’ve won Nobel Prizes, survived wars, or had dinner with someone famous once.
It’s like it’s your turn to introduce yourself at the dinner party after the professional stuntwoman and the guy who invented the internet, and the most exciting thing you can think of is that time you remembered to feed your dog.
Why Author Bios Are Torture (And Why We Need Them Anyway)
The thing about author bios is that they sit at this weird intersection of marketing, creative writing and innate fear. You’re supposed to be professional but personable, accomplished but relatable, interesting but not show-offy. It’s like juggling and riding a unicycle while explaining quantum physics to a five-year-old who’s poking sticks in your spokes.
And then there’s the comparison game. You accidentally research other authors’ bios and find yourself reading about people who’ve been war correspondents, run orphanages in Tibet, and still carved out time to write seventeen bestsellers. Meanwhile, your biggest adventure is that time you popped into Ikea for a wall clock and got lost for three hours and came home with a chair shaped like a tongue.
But here’s the thing… and this might be controversial… most readers aren’t looking for your bio to make them feel inadequate about their own life choices. That’s just a bonus. They want to know if you’re someone whose entirely made-up stories are things they want to spend time with. They want to get a sense of your voice, your interests, maybe a glimpse of the person behind the words... ugh!
Think about it: when you pick up a book, are you really checking the author bio to see if they’ve climbed Everest? Or are you looking for something that suggests this person gets it, whatever ‘it’ happens to be for you?
The Bio That Nearly Broke Me
When I was putting together my author website recently, I knew I needed a bio. How hard could it be, right? I’ve been writing for thirty years. I’ve got some credentials. I can do things. I’ve run marathons. I have a dog. Boom, bio done.
Three days later, I was staring at seventeen different versions and hating every one of them, even that one about how I sometimes make cheese-and-pickle sandwiches for lunch, unless I’m not very hungry.
So, I did what any sensible person would do. I gave up on trying to sound professional and just started talking out of my... ah… mouth... through my fingers… thumbs to be specific. And here’s what came out when I stopped trying to impress anyone at all, especially me (feel free to skim read this next bit… it’s pretty raw):
I have written A LOT over 30 years. All for my own amusement and enjoyment. Along the way, I accidentally got okay at it and think maybe I have some things that could amuse and enjoy other people... or at least people and enjoy other muse. In 2016, I decided I wanted to win a short story competition, so I entered a bunch and won one with $1200 prize money. I also placed in a bunch as a finalist and had one of the pieces performed on stage. I then went back to writing long form because I was kind of exhausted. In long form... my career has sucked. I had a literary agent for 7 years with an Australian (I am Australian) literary fiction book, sort of an Australian Grapes of Wrath with more sand and sun and intergenerational mental health issues. But each time a publisher declined, I rewrote the story on what became very conflicting feedback until it was just a hodgepodge of... I don’t even know... shit, I guess. I then took control back... well, my agent retired... and I wrote the book I actually meant to write. It’s awesome now... honestly. A new agent is currently considering it... has been for 2 months... but who’s counting. I also have a sci-fi book that was long-listed for the Ritchell Prize with Hachette and is sort of a contemporary Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy with more dystopia and less Hitchhiker’s Guides to Galaxies. That one took over 30 years and 1 week to write and is also with the same agent... who is still pondering my literary future... or not... which is far more likely. I have also almost completed an Epic Fantasy that is somewhere between Grimdark Fantasy and Literary Fantasy... yes, that’s a thing. It’s called Grimdarkliteraryfancy... I’m pretty sure... That book was quick. It only took about 20 years and 2.5 million words to write. Then I’m going to finish off another sci-fi book I wrote in a cafe in New York fifteen years ago in a single day... true story. I have been meaning to get back to it for ages... can’t wait. Oh, and I’ve drafted another 20 other books across at least 5 genres. Most of them are currently rubbish because I wrote them back when I was rubbish at writing. Now I reckon I can turn them into something not quite so rubbish, but time is rubbish as they say... they do say that, don’t they? I pretty much write all the time now because I have a telephone that I don’t use to make telephone calls because... well... thumbs. So, I can write books on it instead, and so that’s what I do... in queues, in coffee shops, at the start of boring meetings, while having sex... um... no dear... I don’t do that... I was just looking up photos... honest. And anyway... where was I... yes... I write a lot and am part of the KSP Novel Writing Collective, and I am very much ready to launch into... I don’t know, really... other than I haven’t given up on trad publishing because I have only been at this for 30 years, and I don’t feel like I’ve really given it a decent shot... so yeah... that’s me. Oh, and I have degrees in IT/Music/Audio Engineering and was a struggling alt-pop singer when I was a youngster and made a couple of albums that I just put up on Spotify and still dabble in a bit of songwriting and recording from time to time. And I’ve run 27 marathons and ultra-marathons and won one of them and came second in another, and I ride my bike a lot and don’t really like long walks on the beach because squeaky sand gives me that really unpleasant tingle up my spine. Oh, and I have 30 years experience in IT. And all sorts of stuff like that... did I mention I’ve never written one of these I’ve liked... maybe you can sense why now... stop being all at me about it.
Yeah. Take that, me. That’s the raw, unfiltered… I don’t know what exactly… but certainly not a bio, not yet. More like 600-odd words of stream-of-consciousness panic, complete with contradictions, tangents, and what I’m pretty sure was a mild nervous breakdown in the middle paragraphs. Exactly what I needed, because... buried beneath all the rubble, I could hear an okay bio whimpering to get out.
The Art of Bio Archaeology
The trick with author bios is that you’re not trying to fit your entire life into a paragraph. You’re trying to find the thread that connects who you are to what you write. Personally, I found that I couldn’t make that connection without performing the word vomit thing first.
Looking back, I could easily see the elements that actually mattered, because they were all out there… splayed beneath my opposable thumbs… flailing in plain sight:
I’ve been writing for thirty years (persistence)
I’ve won competitions and been longlisted for awards (credibility)
I write across multiple genres (range)
I’ve had an agent (professional validation)
I have other interests that make me a real person (marathons, music, IT background)
I don’t take myself, or anyone else really, too seriously (voice)
The rest was just noise. True noise, real noise, possibly even fun noise, but not bio-worthy noise. More like the noise of Hendrix tuning up. Okay, nowhere near that cool. Like Hendrix’s roadie’s friend, Kevin, tuning up. Okay, not that cool either.
The Multiple Bio Strategy
Here’s something else I’ve learned in 30 years of writing: you don’t need one bio, you need three. Just like you wouldn’t wear the same outfit to a job interview and a barbecue, you would wear three.
The Professional Bio (for submissions, formal applications): Credentials first, personality second. Clean, factual, impressive without trying too hard.
The Reader-Friendly Bio (for websites, book jackets): Personality first, personality second, writing third. More conversational. Makes people want to know more about your work.
The Social Media Bio (Twitter, Instagram): Only guessing here - because I get all sort of cringy, crampy feelings when I get within a thousand pixels of Twitter or Instagram - but the good bios there seem punchy, memorable, though possibly a bit more pretentious and showy - cramming key words into character limits - hoping one of them will be enough to get some stranger who has nothing to do with their writing or interests to follow them. Sigh.
All three of these ungainly bio forms eventually crawled out of the rubble of my brain-dump.
My website bio ended up like this:
After 30 years of writing ‘for my own amusement,’ I accidentally got okay at it and decided maybe other people might see something in my work, too.
I write across genres... from literary fiction, exploring intergenerational trauma, to sci-fi comedy that’s been described as ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide meets dystopian anxiety,’ to dark fantasy where ancient daemons and floating realms collide. Humour finds its way into everything, even the literary and dystopian stuff.
I won the ‘In My View’ short story contest in 2016 with a $1200 prize (yay!), was longlisted for the Ritchell Prize with Hachette and have had work performed on stage, which was both thrilling and terrifying, mostly the latter.
Currently, I have manuscripts with a new agent (after my old agent retired) who’s taking their sweet time deciding my literary future, but after only 30 years in this game, I feel like I’m just getting started, so what’s the rush?
When not writing on my phone in inappropriate places (coffee shop queues, boring meetings, in my pyjamas), I run marathons (27 and counting), cycle around the world (only the best bits), and workshop new ideas with Arthur, who happens to be my dog.
I’m a member of the KSP Novel Writing Collective and have that dangerous blend of persistence and just enough positive feedback to keep going.
Okay, that’s maybe not as much fun as the brain-dump disaster, but it’s still a bit of fun without obscuring the important bits. Which is all you can say about anything in life, really. Pretty sure.
The Rules (Such As They Are)
Through this whole process, I learned a few things about author bios that might save someone else from learning things about author bios all on their own.
1. Start entirely open, no filters, like your first draft of a manuscript. Just start brain dumping everything you’ve got in you about writing. Unfiltered, unwashed, unclothed... eww. If all you’ve ever done is write to your mum and compliment people online about their cat videos, talk about how often you do that, why you do that, how it makes you feel when you do that, then why you want to take that feeling and turn it into a professional occupation... honestly, I’d like to know. Don’t stop writing that stream of consciousness until every last trickle has dried up. Now clear away all the bits that make you cringe the most and… presto! A… slightly less awful hodgepodge of meaningless jibberish. Now do that a few more times and… there it is!
2. It’s a CV, not a diary. Everything needs to be true, but it should be the highlight reel version of true. Apply your writing skills. The ones you’re going to talk about in your bio. No, it’s not lying, it’s curating. Honestly, your honour! I was curating about the night in question.
3. Lead with what matters most for your audience. If you’re submitting to agents, lead with credentials. If you’re trying to connect with readers, lead with your personality and follow up quickly with personality, then hit ‘em with your writing stuff.
4. Show, don’t tell. Instead of saying ‘I’m smart,’ or ‘I’m funny,’ or ‘I like cheese,’ write something that clearly demonstrates your sense of cheese.
5. Be specific. ‘I’ve won writing competitions’ is good. ‘I won the ‘In My View’ short story contest in 2016 with a $1200 prize’ is better. Details make it real. It’s like an ostrich named Percifield. Yep. It really is. Isn’t it, Percifield?
6. Include something that makes you human. My dog, my marathon running, my weird thing about squeaky sand... these are relatable details that were so important to me they made it into my 600-word life brain dump. Maybe they don’t all make the final cut of bio number twos, but more rubble means more chance of finding a malnourished survivor to resuscitate. Pretty sure.
7. Keep it current. Bios aren’t set-and-forget. Every time you achieve something new, publish something new, or win something new, update your bio something new. It’s like a plant... it needs feeding and then it dies… like three days later.
The Permission to Be Ordinary (Extraordinarily)
Here’s the thing I wish someone had told me before I wrote a series of horrible, boring bios that proved essential for my first twenty years of industry rejections. Don’t do that, Rod! Then I wish they’d told me that… you don’t need to have lived an extraordinary life to write an extraordinary bio. You just need to find the extraordinary in the super-ordinary life you’ve lived. Rude but fair!
Most of us aren’t war correspondents or Nobel Prize winners. Most of us are just people who love words and stories enough to spend ridiculous amounts of time alone in our rooms making things up. And that can actually be pretty interesting, if you make it up right. Right?
Your bio doesn’t need to make other people feel inadequate about their life choices. That’s just a bonus. It needs to make them curious about you and your stories. Yes, they need to be bio-curious about you. It needs to give them a sense of who you are and why your particular way of seeing the world might be worth seeing, too… or something else like that using more inspirational words.
And if you’re still totally stuck, remember, the author bio is just another piece of writing. There, I said it. Well… typed it… thumbed it, really… but let’s not get into all that now. You’re allowed to draft it, hate it, rewrite it, hate that version too, and keep drafting and hating it until you find something that you don’t hate quite as much and then forget where you saved it. You’re allowed to ask other writers for help. You’re allowed to steal the structure from bios you admire and adapt it to your own circumstances. And you’re allowed to outright steal someone else’s identity and claim it as your own and empty their bank… wait… no… hang on… scrub that last one!
After all, we’re writers. Curating something exquisite and compelling out of an otherwise bitter and lonely existence is literally the job description. Pretty sure.
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And How’s Arthur?
Arthur is going well, thanks for asking! Here’s Arthur explaining that exceeding a critical number of philosophical tangents can cause a reader to lose track of the core message. I will do better!
Just used these wonderful instructions, Rod, and your previous post about setting up a website, which I have now done - TJPender.com. Thanks for all your help!
Fabulissimo Rod. Mine is a work in progress and I hear you! Tweaking one’s CV for jobs it’s a similar thing -‘cept you need more you in an authors bio. Really enjoyed the long and short of yours. Your writing is extraordinary good - such a distinctive positive and human voice. It would certainly hold my interest.