I’m applying to something and had to write a personal statement. Here’s my first draft….it’s a cluster. i don’t like several weird sentences, nor do i like the last paragraph. I have several days before this is due so i’mma let it sit for a day or two before revisiting with new eyes.

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I’ve spent a large part of my life face-down in six feet of water. There wasn’t much to admire beyond the constant black line underneath me. I’d mentally write papers, sing songs, or in moments of complete this-swim-practice-is-really-hard, I’d even review math problems. The change to collegiate swimming was a physical and emotional period that pushed me beyond my limiting self-beliefs. Swimming stopped being something I did because I excelled and started being a job; I earned a full scholarship and spent more than the required time ensuring I deserved the money.

After being a competitive swimmer for eighteen years I qualified for a meet I hadn’t dreamed of ever attending. My dedication to give up short-term fun for long-term achievement paid off as I qualified for Olympic Trials in 2012. I walked onto that pool deck in sheer awe of the size of the spectator area. It was the largest stage within the US Swimming platform. Back home, my old teams, old coaches, children I’d taught to swim summers before, all my parents’ coworkers stopped and turned on the livestream for my swim.

I felt like a trickster god dancing around the pillars in Mount Olympus. I know swimming so well I can coach anyone of any age and any athletic background. I was wearing gear I was long used to. The pool was deeper than I’d competed in before but the length was the same. I swam the best I could and added a second. I got out and avoided my family and coaches.

Swimming was supposed to be my outlet. It was the way I gave voice to the struggle inside my head. I knew I failed everyone watching. Most importantly, I failed myself. Not because I had added time but because I forgot the most important thing about swimming and sports in general- it’s supposed to be fun. I’d lost Anna the swimmer who reads like crazy and writes short stories during math class. I became Anna the Swimmer and nothing else.

It took several years before I rediscovered the power of the voice within me. By then I graduated undergrad with a creative writing degree and technical school with a license in massage and body work therapy. I was working, and it was kind of fun. Not the same kind of internal buzz as a great race but my elite swimming days were over. I had a listlessness I didn’t know how to describe to others.

I decided to look up publishing internships. I didn’t think it would fix my restless heart but at least it could distract me for a while, like those math problems during hard practices. I edited manuscripts for a tiny publishing company for a year, entirely unpaid. It partly calmed that wild within me. The next year I interned with a book scouting company. The workload was incredibly intense on top of my 40-hour work week. My new husband, bless his heart, supported me through those three-months by holding a plate of food nearby so I’d remember to eat. It wasn’t that I’d skip meals to give myself more time to work- I was so in love with what I was doing that the rest of the world disappeared.

The black line from my childhood became black letters of my adulthood. The community I found within publishing is similar to swimming: we’re in various stages of our fun education, we’re a bit fanatical, and we tend to obsess about strange scents. To me, the smell of an old book is right up there with chlorine. Both have given me the largest challenges and changed me into a better person. By seeking for a place to use my voice I have found that it’s not on a pool deck or pages of a book. It is within my wild heart.

I think of the children who watched me swim that day. Have they found their complete selves in a book? Or has the publishing industry failed them, like it did me? The first time I ever saw nearly all of me in media was when I was 28. I want better for the next generations. I want books with queer characters, immigrant, poor, side-kick characters. The world is so much more diverse than is reflected in media. That is changing, slowly, and I want to be part of that change. Being a literary agent would fulfill the listlessness that threatens my heart, but I want to know other careers too. I want to learn where I fit best so my voice can be heard. I’m standing outside a stage I’m desperate to get onto. After everything, the work doesn’t scare me. The thought of giving up because I might not make it is terrifying.

I won’t fail myself again.

I hope to see you soon.