Is it a bit icky to describe yourself as “good-looking”?

Last week I had to write a 250-word writer’s bio for myself.  Not as a writer for other people, but as a writer in my own right.  As me. 

“It’s never occurred to me to do that,” I told my coach, J, whose bright idea this was.  I said those words slightly incredulously, because it was weird to think it hadn’t.  Especially since my writing life up to this point has involved a job-lot of bio-writing for others.  I’ve had to write about myself as a writer many times before, but as I say, always under the cloak of hey, this what I can write for you!  But I’m getting rid of the cloak.  Now there’s nowhere for me – or my writing – to hide.

“Try to pull me in with this bio.  Make me want to read you,” said J, which irritated me a bit because I don’t like pulling people in.  I’d much rather they pulled themselves in without me having to say anything at all.

But since that isn’t how the world works, and since I wanted to work with a coach like J precisely because I need to do stuff like this, I gave it a good old go.

Here’s the result:

Known as Nina the Writer, Nina Jervis-Green is (drum roll, please) a writer.   Since 2006, she’s tried her writing hand at stories, poetry, speeches, show reviews, short and long-form articles, and non-fiction books, all with varying degrees of competence.

Nina is an introvert, a Highly Sensitive Person, and according to her Year 8 English teacher, “an irascible cynic”.  These qualities, plus a lonely childhood filled with imaginary friends, favourite word-lists, and other people’s books, give Nina’s writing a fine layer of observational detail.  It also imbues everything she writes with a wry sense of humour.

Some readers have commented that Nina’s style is warm, witty, and conversational.  Close friends say they can “hear” her unique voice in her writing.  Either way, Nina’s ultimate goal is to write in a way that people find enjoyable and effortless to read.  If they can also feel inspired, and perhaps even a little less alone in the world, then so much the better.

In 2019, Nina won the Welcome Gym National Poetry competition by sneakily copying the poetry style of the head judge.  Her short stories and articles have been published in various books and publications, including the Anthology of Great Writing (2007) and Introvert, Dear.

Nina has also published two books: Procrastinations (2018), a collection of life-observational blog posts written from 2006 – 2016, and I’d Rather Get a Cat and Save the Planet – Conversations with Child-Free Women (2020).  Her first novel, Small Fish, is soon to be released.

“Hmmm…” said J.  “I’m interested in what you’ve said here about what ’some readers…’ and ‘close friends’ say about your work.  Would you ever use those words to describe yourself?” “No,” I said.  “I think there are some things you can’t say about yourself.  Other people have to do the honours, or it feels a bit icky.”

This made me think about my sister, who compliments herself all the time.  When I talk to her, she usually drops something self-positive into the conversation.  Things like: “I look really good today,” or “I’m a very creative person,” or “I’m a great judge of character.” Part of me genuinely admires her for that, because why shouldn’t you highlight the positive things you notice about yourself?  There’s something amazing about being so sure that you’re good-looking, or insightful, or creative, that you can just put it all out there as a done deal.  It’s better than pretending you think you’re ugly and rubbish.

That said, I don’t compliment myself out loud because it just…well, it feels a bit icky.  I don’t know if it’s a self-esteem thing, but I’m not confident that I am a “warm, witty, and conversational” writer.  I rely on other people saying it to know that, at least sometimes, I can be.

(Is it a self-esteem thing that drives my sister to self-compliment all the time?  Does she need to hear herself saying those words out loud so she can believe them?  I’ve never asked her, so I don’t know).

I also think complimenting yourself can seem to others like you’re laying down a bold challenge.  As in: if I tell someone else how good-looking I am, they might start scanning my face for flaws.  I know that whenever someone else describes themselves to me as “funny”, or “quirky”, or “I’m completely mad, me!”, I will silently think: Oh really? Well, I’ll be the judge of that.

“It’s all subjective, isn’t it?” I explained to J.  “I guess to some people I’m a good writer, and to others I’m rubbish.  That’s why I’ve said ‘some readers say…’ One, because some readers actually did say all that, which makes me feel happy and lucky.  Two, because I’m saying it’s OK to disagree.”

This, I suppose, is a long-winded way of saying that if you don’t think I’m a “warm, witty, and conversational” writer, don’t worry.

I won’t hate you for it.