I’ve Read over 10,000 Admissions Essays. Here’s A Simple Formula On How to Write a Good One.

There were some serious lows throughout my five years as an admissions officer, including endless days napping awkwardly in high school parking lots waiting to entertain repetitive questions from anxious teenagers. And I certainly don’t miss chugging 5-Hour-Energy in the depths of February to meet weekly quotas for application reviews (usually around 1500 that I was directly responsible for each year, in addition to providing ‘second reads’ for my admissions colleagues). But no matter how tedious or terrible, I never tired of reading the personal essay. There is something so bizarre and compelling about this rite of passage, I now have a side gig helping students brainstorm and edit essays for both college and graduate school.

Despite the narcissistic Millennial stereotype, the plea I most often receive is: “I don’t know what to write about.” So I wanted to write this article because I’m fairly confident I’ve stumbled across a three step formula that will help anyone struggling with the personal essay.

To begin, you’ll have to understand that the biggest myth about the personal essay is that it must detail immense accomplishment or tragedy. Overcoming dramatic circumstances and/or curing exotic diseases? Not prerequisites for admission. Write this down, because this is very important: the vast majority of successful essays deal with making small connections that prove to an admissions office that you are both curious and aware of the context in which you live and learn.

Ergo, my formula goes like this:

1. Talk in detail about a skill you developed through an interest or hobby.
2. Show how you used (or are currently using) that skill in a surprising context.
3. Briefly connect this to how you might use this skill in an academic context (college or graduate school).

Done? Bravo! You’ve just written an essay that is 17x more interesting than the majority of your peers, and you didn’t have to solve world hunger. Here’s an example:

1. Sophia spent years becoming a better defender on her soccer team. She started lifting weights and learned how to contain her opponents to trap them in the corner.
2. This informed her ability to listen and position herself more carefully during a difficult political science debate.
3. She likes preparing for confrontation, and is thus considering a career in cyber security.

This is an essay I’d love to read. See how even this one paragraph essay tells us SO MUCH about Sophia, and she didn’t have to resort to hyperbole or #humblebrag? Here’s another one:

1. Parker played Dungeons and Dragons throughout high school and college, but gave it up (and kept it secret) when he started his high-profile investment banking job.
2. However, when a difficult boss began to offer vague demands, Parker remembered how many difficult Dungeon Masters he had played with over the years and surprised his cohort by asking the boss for clarification.
3. He isn’t afraid to ask for help, but wants to attend business school to learn leadership techniques of his own.

Yes, please — Admit! See how these incredibly ‘normal’ (i.e. ‘boring’) people have interesting stories to tell? It’s all about making small, surprising connections. And I think this formula does a good job of helping students avoid cliches because it forces them to surprise themselves.

I could talk for days about the do’s and don’ts of essay writing. But I’ve used this formula successfully with several of my friends and clients, and I’m genuinely curious to know if anyone out there going through this process finds this kind of exercise helpful. Let me know! Leave a comment below or shoot me an email (contact info). Thanks and good luck!

My skill at taking my own photograph while suspended midair hasn’t helped write any essays, but it’s a hobby none the less.