Author Ellen Potter complains that most author bios make her jealous, claiming that they “sound enviable. Tidy, picturesque. No bad smells. It’s just not fair.”
In that spirit, she writes the honest author bio:
She lives in a house which is perpetually being renovated by boozy, perspiring construction guys, located on a woody road plagued with black flies in the summer and black ice in the winter. She is surrounded by her loving family who do not pick up after themselves and leave the soy milk out of the refrigerator all night. Her poorly-groomed dogs have chronic ear infections. She spends her days trying to find time to shower. Oh, and also, she writes.
Since my newest author bio was written by a reader, I thought I’d attempt my own honest author bio in the spirit of Potter.
Matthew Dicks has yet to reach his target weight of 185 pounds and actually managed to gain two pounds this summer rather than losing weight. Despite his recent loss of more than thirty pounds, he still can’t believe that his weight once exceeded 230 pounds. What an idiot and a sloth. And though he’s lost much of the unwanted weight, the idiot and the sloth probably still reside within, just waiting to emerge. How could they not? Matthew is terrified of death, unable to build or repair the simplest of machines and cannot even change the oil in his car. He is a polarizing figure, often inspiring a fierce loyalty in people or an unbridled desire to destroy him at all costs. His perpetual plague of bad luck has presumably not come to an end but has merely gone on sabbatical, determined to return with a well rested vengeance. He has difficulty dressing himself appropriately and has the smallest bladder known to man. He has enough hair on his body to cover five men and still cannot hit a tee shot after almost four years of playing golf. Oh, and he also writes.
If you’d like to write an honest bio of me in the same vein as the one written above, please feel free.
I’ll brace myself for the worst.