I’m not that interesting
When I embarked on my creative career, I never anticipated its insatiable demand for bios. Website after website urges me: “Tell us about yourself”. There are places where it’s warranted, sure, but half the time I just want to reply: “Look mate, I’m not that interesting.” Because, let’s face it, most of us aren’t.
And I never read other people’s bios: I don’t have to know about someone’s childhood, education, or love of dogs to appreciate their work. In fact, I prefer not to have my impression of a work tainted by any biases I subconsciously hold so that I can judge it by its own merits.
Because more often than not, it feels as if it’s you personally that’s reviewed and judged rather than your work. Yet when rejection comes, as it inevitably does in all creatives’ lives, you’re told not to take it personally.
I want to talk about my work, my projects, my characters, not myself. I want to sell paintings and books, not myself. I don’t want to be a brand.
Perhaps I would not loathe it so much if the bios weren’t such an agony to write. Dilly-dallying over what tone to strike, what to share and what’s TMI. For every thing that you write, one person is drawn in but another is alienated, make no mistake.
Whilst I have a number of bios of varying lengths stored some websites deserve the effort of a more original approach. Consequently, much of today was spent writing a new one for a profile in a kind of author’s index. It’s a privilege and a good opportunity to be included in it obviously, but it’s still equally hard.
As a child, I wanted to grow up to be three things: a ballerina, a farmer, and a writer. Many years and five published novels later, I think that one out of those three isn’t bad.
Amongst my earliest memories is crayoning by the kitchen table and making up stories about the drawings, and I’ve been doing that ever since. Yet it was decades before I had enough courage to pursue it professionally; when I finally did, it was burnout from stress and childhood abuse that tipped the scale.
At university, I studied art and philosophy mainly, but also film, literature, physics, and logic. I tried many different professions: teacher, project manager, care assistant, library assistant; I’ve been a cabbie and (briefly) a prison guard. I pursued a career in politics and was elected for public office. But, whilst many of these roles were rewarding, great privileges even, they were never a perfect fit. I treasure all of these experiences as they make me better at what I was meant to do – tell stories.
Born and raised in rural Sweden, rambles through fields and forests shaped me and continue to influence all my work; animals and plants are ever present. Whether images or words, I immerse myself wholly in my work. There’s a story behind every brush stroke, an image behind every word, although only a small fraction ever gets processed enough to share with others.
The majority of my stories are written in English and, most commonly, in the genres of historical fiction, contemporary romance, or short stories inspired by Scandinavian mythology and folklore.
Being a life-long history buff, I like to fancy myself a bit of an amateur historian and digging through archives and chasing facts for my novels is precisely my idea of a good time. Luckily, I also enjoy dancing, else I might never have met my husband. We live in the southern tip of the Scandinavian peninsula where, in the words of Voltaire, we cultivate our garden.
Well, what do you think, Dear Reader? Too long? Too wordy? Too casual? TMI? Too dumb?
What do you include in a longer bio?
Well, hubby’s put dinner on the table so I have to dash. Have a lovely Wednesday night, Dear Reader, where ever you are.
