Intro: This is kind of biographical. It does represent my writing process when I'm stuck. (I actually didn't have a difficult time writing this one. No web surfing involved. Then again, the computer didn't have internet when I was writing it.)
Henrietta paced around her the computer room, avoiding the room's namesake. After nearly half an hour of puttering, she dragged herself to her chair and stared at the glowing screen.
“I can do this, it's just writing about me.”
For nearly an hour, she wasted time 'researching' the appropriate style. It depressed her. With nothing better to do to waste time on, Henrietta opened the word processing program. In another window, was an example of a professional biography.
How hard could it be to write about herself? Regarding the professional bio, Henrietta's fingers froze over the keys. Qualifications. Previous publications. Oh, dear. She typed, then deleted several sentences. Even more depressed, Henrietta went back to surfing the web, looking for more examples.
With a large bowl of ice cream, Henrietta sat back down, more optimistic than before. The first sentence was written in a vaguely specific manner, as a writer not an author. Education was important. She had a degree, that wasn't a problem. But how could it compare to the specialized field or multiple degrees. Being a writer was great but her degree was to ensure she didn't starve. How was that suppose to help make her more qualified? It took another hour of internet exploration for her brain to figure out what to write.
With a sentence to write about her family and where she was living. Henrietta felt much better. After reading it through, she deleted half of it and went to bed. The next morning, she sat down at her computer and deleted the other half, unimpressed with it in the light of day. As she worked through the day at her job, to prevent starvation, ideas filtered in. At the end of the day she sat at her computer and typed something out. Pleased, Henrietta checked it against the professional biography and sighed.
It had to be re-written in third person and Henrietta nearly deleted it again, now she'd read it for the thirtieth time. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she pasted it into an email and sent it off to the small magazine.
When the magazine came out the next month, Henrietta avoided it for a whole month before finally opening it and glancing through.
“Henrietta Jeppsen is a writer of all things fathomable, and many otherwise. With a practical degree in the art of paying bills, she enjoys her free time. Living only with the voices in her head, Henrietta enjoys her apartment on the planet Earth. Soon, she hopes to have enough for a down payment on a cute little cottage on the edge of Wits End.”
Henrietta set the magazine down and smiled.
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