Bio- Draft 1.

It is truly incredible what I can do when given an unexpected (but welcome) day off and a cup of coffee (or 2). Without further ado, here is draft one of my professional bio. I NEED feedback, so please read with a critical eye.

Bethany grew up in a small town in the Lower Peninsula of Michigan, where her rural farming community, a floundering Michigan economy, and the devoted support of her family taught her to aspire and achieve whatever, wherever, and however she could- and write about it.
As a city girl born and raised in the country, Bethany said goodbye to her tiny hometown to attend college at Judson University, located in a northwest suburb of Chicago. There she earned a Bachelor of Arts in Communications and Writing with aspirations to become a novelist, memoirist, columnist, journalist, publisher, literary critic, and/or literary professor.
She may not currently be any of those things, but nevertheless she has valued her various writing endeavors academically, professionally, and personally. Through her writing Bethany seeks to engage in and reflect upon a world of technology, art, spirituality, and relationships with a unique but relevant perspective.
After several “learning experiences” as a library page, retail associate, customer service assistant, waitress, hostess, and barista, Bethany now writes full time for two different organizations. She serves as a Social Networking Manager and writer for her alma mater, Judson University, where she writes and edits content for their web sites, press releases, and publications. She also serves Unicatis Marketing Group as a copywriter/editor.
Bethany is currently working on a memoir with her mother, who is living with recurrent breast cancer. In her free time, Bethany likes to both blog and read blogs, delights in finding a good book, and also loves music, movies, painting, and NPR. She lives in Elmhurst, IL with her husband.

I need a biography...

I need a biography. We're not talking a whole book; just a three-paragraph summary of who I am and what I do. I wrote a short bio recently for my new job site, and I think it's good. However, the idea of writing a longer, more detailed bio somehow seems more intimidating. Maybe what's really bothering me is that nagging voice in my head, the one that says, "You don't just need a bio, you need a life..."

My intimidation doesn't change what is necessary to my success. The reality is that a good bio can do a lot for a professional profile on a social media site (such as LinkedIn), which can drive traffic to your blog, which can lead to a job or great professional connection, all of which I would love to have.

So, I've done a little research. What components make a good bio? 

The Urban Muse recently published a guest post from Kenji Crosland, who suggests including four key ideas:

1. What is your mission?

2. Where did you come from?

3. What have you done?

4. What are you doing now?

Those are all great questions... What is my mission as a writer? ("To write" seems like too short an answer, but that's my gut reaction.) Where did I come from (More specifically: where did my drive to write come from?) What have I done? (Why do I feel like "nothing" is the wrong answer?) What am I doing now? (Possibly the one question I feel I can answer without deprecation...)

So I will start with the one question I can answer and work backwards... I'll post it when I have a complete draft. Right now, I can hear another voice in my head. It's Mr. Zonyk, my high school Advanced Composition teacher. He always told me, "Don't think; just write." All of my writing endeavors, whether personal or professional, return to that principle eventually.

Position: Writer. Status: Filled!

No excuses. I haven't written in two weeks. I let myself get caught up in the ever-shifting winds of my life without bothering to stop and look around, contemplate and write. So here's an update, and a little insight.

I have a new job. And not just any job. Not a waiting job, or a serving job, or a retail job, or an I-hate-people job, or an I-want-to-hurt-myself job. I have a writing job. A job that I want and a job that I am good at. Can you read my relief? I'm not writing in bold print, but the words jump out at me nonetheless. A writing job!

I've been working at my alma mater as a writer/editor/social networker for over a year now, but only part time. Thus the waiting and the serving and the hating and the hurting, because those things often coincide with a paycheck when you're a recent college grad and young newly wed.

Anyway, I am relieved and overjoyed to say that I have been able to move on to something bigger and better. I work for a marketing company, Unicatis Marketing Group, to be exact. We specialize and helping companies revamp their marketing strategies to incorporate social media to reach their consumers. Sound fun? I would never consider myself a marketing enthusiast, but this is actually fun and interesting. And the idea of using social media to connect with consumers on a personal level both intrigues and excites me. And, being the word nerd that I am, the editing and the writing makes me even happier.

The whole transition has opened my eyes to the age that I live in. The age of social media and digitization and technology and connection. To not only bear witness to it, but to engage in it, examine it, understand it, is a privilege.

I think that the industry of writing, editing, and publishing is changing. Drastically. If you're yawning and mumbling, "Way ahead of you", it's okay. I know, I'm kind of a slow learner when it comes to this stuff. But hey, I'm catching up, here.

I also think that I just stepped into a new chapter of my life. Maybe, off a plateau and onto a new level. I'm still part time at my alma mater and part time at my new job, but between the two I am [almost] working full time hourly. As usual, I'm treading carefully but I can't help but be excited. Stick with me to keep tabs on how things are going, okay? I promise I won't keep you in the dark... at least not as long next time.

A Dusty Mirror.

Not everyone has a door that opens directly to their past. I do. I wrote every day for nearly five years, from ninth grade to the summer after my freshman year of college. Struck with sudden curiosity, I ventured down to my aunt’s basement yesterday in search of the dusty stack of collage-covered Meads that envelope my youthful angst and hormone-infused thoughts.

Atop the stack was my last full journal written the spring semester of freshman year at Judson, for credit in Advanced Essay Writing. Beneath that lay the journal from my senior year of high school, the one that didn’t get written in as often because I was burning the midnight oil to get straight A’s. Beneath that, the journal from the summer before senior year when I was giddy with freedom from a not-so-nice boyfriend that stuck around far too long. Beneath that, I couldn’t crack open another collage-adorned notebook without provoking my gag reflex.

I should just throw them away. I certainly don’t want to leave them for someone to read through in the event of my death. I don’t want to lug them from apartment to apartment to house, from stage of life to stage of life, as a way of reminding me how naïve and artless and sometimes cruel I once was. What once seemed as smart, funny and wise now seems peculiar and false, like looking at my reflection through a cracked and dusty mirror. Somehow, most of what I wrote there has been sloughed off, and what remains is a much different figure than I perceived before.

I will probably keep them, dust them off every once in a while and find that there are truths reflected beneath all of the immaterial things I thought then. Everything else I can take with a grain of salt. The question that the experience actually sparked is this: will writers inevitably look back at their work and see only a jumble of emotions and poor writing? Or am I just a bad writer, one that lets too many of my emotions get in the way? Does everything we write have potential? Do we have to possess the value of hindsight in order to write something true? Does experience make up for what we wrote in the past? Do we ever get over the insecurity of reading our own post-dated thoughts in black and white? Do I need to keep those journals, or can I, should I throw them away?

The Writing, Reading Woman.

I'm telling the truth when I say that I have started at least four blog posts in the last week, and have only gotten through two or three sentences before losing steam and deciding I am too tired for my thoughts to make sense here. I have written several times in my journal where I feel more free to let my mind wander unhindered from deeply personal things to the more reader-friendly subjects I might have posted online. I like blogging, but my biggest enemies are the back button and the little red "X" in the upper left hand corner of this window. I'll try to make this short and succinct before my motivation runs dry.

I am currently reading Traveling with Pomegranates, a co-authored memoir by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter, Ann Kidd Taylor. The memoir walks readers through major life transitions of both mother and daughter, set against the backdrop of a richly feminist view of Ancient Europe. Sue is a 50-something woman coming to grips with the end of her youth and the beginning of her writing career. Ann is a 20-something woman coming to grips with the end of her undergraduate studies, and subsequently her plans for graduate school, which have been rejected by the only university she applied to. Ann has no alternative plans and has fallen into a deep and nearly inconsolable depression while Sue has fallen into her own state of despondency as her body begins to exhibit premenopausal effects.

As Sue passes the torch to her daughter and Ann hesitates to accept it, both experience spiritual awakenings and personal enlightenment that are heavily influenced by divine feminist figures, from the mythical mother-daughter connection of Demeter and Persephone, to Athena, to the Virgin Mary and Joan of Arc.

This read has challenged, inspired and comforted me as I find my own struggles reflected in those of the characters. Sue, who is best known for her fictional novel The Secret Life of Bees, describes in sincere and raw detail her struggle to augment her lofty dreams of being a novelist into a tangible work. Ann pours out with frank, but almost lyrical honesty the inner pain, healing, and growth that led her to what she is now- a writer. Both women discover the necessity of drawing inspiration from wherever one may find it- the earth, recurring images, one another, and oneself. As I continue to read, their experiences both validate and soothe my own insecurities as a woman, as a wife, as a writer and as a daughter. To recognize inspiration and allow it to change one's life, Sue and Ann avow, is truly divine.

"You must learn one thing. The world is made to be free in. Give up all the other worlds except the one in which you belong." - David Whyte (quoted by Ann Kidd Taylor in Traveling With Pomegranates.)