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Due to a sudden death in the family, I’ll be writing, podcasting and responding less frequently for the next week or two.
The death I’m referring to is my stepmother’s. She was not of the evil storybook variety, but a woman I loved without reservation.
Telling her story—in her eulogy and in a written package at the service—feels important, not only to those who knew her, but to the future female artists her life might inspire.
(Judy was a Master World Champion Woodcarver of wildfowl art, winning over 250 ribbons at Wildfowl Competitions—including third in the world—in a field dominated by men. She exhibited at an impressive list of museums and Audubon shows and traveled the world with my late dad to study birds in their native habitat.)
It hasn’t been easy to decide how to tell her story—probably because she lived her life very much in the present and tried mightily not to make her art her business.
The eulogy writing flowed easily (probably because capturing her unique personality was like having her with me). But the write-up for the church felt like a steep mountain to climb.
And it wasn’t just me—her best friend of 57 years got stuck after summarizing the facts of her early life. So she handed it off to me to figure out her life and which bits mattered most (no pressure).
Yes, it’s still a work in progress, but now that I’ve identified the throughline, it’s only a matter of time…
My point in telling you this is not to segue into how to write the perfect business bio.
It’s simply this: your story is everything.
It’s how all of your greatest “work” (including things that don’t generate revenue) makes sense, to you and to those you love or serve.
It’s where the emotion lives that pulls the right people into your orbit.
And it just might become an integral part of how you are remembered, long after you depart.
Related: You Hit the Finish Line. Now What?