This morning I was looking at a writer’s website and once again wondered about an anomaly I see all the time in author bios. You know what I mean: those short blurbs that appear on book jackets, at online bookstores and fan sites, on guest posts, conference programs, and other hangouts where writers need to be identified.
It’s traditional in a bio for a third-person narrator to describe your work and qualifications.
Gladys X. Tringle is author of the popular A Bio Better Than Your Self.
This fictional third-person authority also tends to have knowledge of your personal life and achievements and permission to spill and brag a bit, even though we know darned well that you actually wrote—or at least drafted—the statement yourself. That doesn’t bother me; readers are curious about writers, and we expect to learn something from your bio.
Novelist Gladys X. Tringle, author of the new book A Bio Better Than Your Self, lives in a Virginia farmhouse with her husband and two border collies, Ham and Cheese. Publishers Weekly calls her “the professional writer’s best therapist.”
But these days, it’s becoming de rigueur to give readers a more personal glimpse into the writer’s life:
Gladys X. Tringle, author of the new book A Bio Better Than Your Self, lives in a Virginia farmhouse with her husband and two border collies, Ham and Cheese. When she isn’t in her converted barn studio plotting another instant bestseller, she can be found working culinary magic in her 400-year-old kitchen. Publishers Weekly calls her “the professional writer’s best therapist.”
The quirky, self-deprecating approach is also hugely popular, and at this point, the third-person voice begins to sound suspiciously similar to the voice of the writer. I get an image of Gladys grabbing the keyboard from the narrator, annoyed with the objectivity:
Novelist Gladys X. Tringle, author of the new book A Bio Better Than Your Self, lives in a Virginia farmhouse with her husband. For exercise (when she’s not stuck under the sofa looking for chocolates and loose change), Gladys chases her two border collies around the barn at bath time. Publishers Weekly calls her “the professional writer’s best therapist.”
That’s where the third person seems to fail. Who is this narrator who knows Gladys intimately enough to write in her voice?
In some contexts, Gladys could simply write in the first person (“For exercise—when I’m not stuck under the sofa looking for chocolates and loose change—I chase my border collies around the barn at bath time.”) But when it’s time to list her publications and other achievements, it’s more modest and appropriate for someone else to speak for her.
What’s the solution? Do you notice this kind of thing? Do you find it anomalous?
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Photo: Missy and Harley, by Shirlz.