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(whispering) Hey, come here. Closer. I hold the secret to the world of admissions.

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(whispering) Perfect test scores? Nope.
(whispering) Multiple publications? Not quite.
(whispering) A resume packed with impressive titles? Wrong again.

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Okay, fine—I’ll tell you.

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The secret comes into play long before you ever hit “Submit.”

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The secret is living a life worth talking—and writing—about.

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Admissions officers aren’t looking for perfect. They’re looking for interesting. For applicants who show that they’ve lived curiously, taken risks, and done something that reflects self-awareness and growth. You should live as if you’re going to write an autobiography and actually want someone to read it.

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So what does that mean, practically?

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Here are five ways to build a life—and an application—that’s worth writing about.

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1. Worry First About Being Interesting, Then Worry About Making It Relevant

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If your activities are inherently fascinating, relevance can always be drawn later. The reverse is rarely true.

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Example:

“Maya” wanted to be a dentist, but her most distinctive story wasn’t from shadowing—it was from her side gig training rescue dogs for veterans with PTSD.

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She assumed that had nothing to do with oral health, so she left it off her first draft. But when we revisited her story, we realized it did connect—through patience, trust, and communication.

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Her final essay opened with a dog refusing to obey, and ended with a patient learning to smile again. She didn’t force relevance; she found it.

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Lesson: Passion doesn’t have to fit perfectly into a box. If you care deeply about something, it will connect.

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2. Do Things That Scare You

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Growth doesn’t come from safe choices. It comes from discomfort—auditioning, applying, speaking up, starting something new.

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Example:

“Josh,” a college applicant, was painfully shy. I challenged him to start something, anything, that required him to talk to strangers.

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He volunteered to teach ukulele at a local after-school program. Within months, he had stories of mentorship, improvisation, and confidence.

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When he wrote about his first class—hands trembling, kids laughing—it became one of the most heartfelt essays of the cycle.

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Lesson: Fear is usually a sign you’re headed somewhere worth going.

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3. Build a Life That’s Story-Rich, Not Resume-Dense

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Admissions officers remember stories, not spreadsheets. It’s better to have three transformative experiences than 20 scattered ones.

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Example:

“Nadia,” a pre-PA student, once apologized for “only” having one main clinical job: working as a tech in a chaotic emergency department.

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But over two years, she’d gathered dozens of patient moments—funny, tragic, deeply human. We turned that continuity into her essay’s backbone.

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She didn’t need quantity; she needed reflection. That single experience showed depth, endurance, and growth.

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Lesson: Don’t chase bullet points. Chase meaning.

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4. Pursue Curiosity Like It’s a Job

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Curiosity is magnetic. Admissions committees can sense genuine intellectual hunger.

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Example:

“Ben,” a business school applicant, took an odd detour between consulting gigs—he spent three months helping a street-vendor cooperative in Mexico develop pricing models.

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It wasn’t lucrative, but it made for an unforgettable story about social entrepreneurship. His essay wasn’t about “international business.”

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It was about curiosity: what happens when economics meets human stories.

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Lesson: Follow what fascinates you, even if it doesn’t look strategic at first. Strategy is easy to add later; authenticity isn’t.

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5. Turn Ordinary Experiences into Extraordinary Insights

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The best stories don’t require plane tickets or prestige—they just need perspective.

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Example:

“Elena,” a physical therapy applicant, wrote her essay about folding laundry. Seriously.

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She described the quiet patience of helping her grandmother—who had Parkinson’s—fold shirts, one sleeve at a time.

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That small act became a metaphor for rehabilitation, persistence, and grace. It was simple. It was human. It worked.

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Lesson: Pay attention. The details of daily life can reveal your most authentic character.

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You can’t fake an interesting life.

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You can, however, choose to live one.

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So before you stress about whether your next experience “looks good” on an application, ask a better question:

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Would it make a good story in your autobiography?

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Because the students who stand out aren’t the ones who check every box—they’re the ones 

who live lives worth writing about.

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