Career Clarity and Transition

Your Career Story Needs an Editor

Why answering "Tell me about yourself" starts with deciding what matters.

Barna Kovacs, Unsplash


“Tell me about yourself . . .”

Few seemingly harmless questions elicit quite as much dread. Where do you start? What do you include? How much is too much? And there’s that nagging worry: What if the thing I leave out is actually what this person wanted to hear about?

So we try to fit it all in.

We walk through our experience chronologically, carefully accounting for each role, transition, project and accomplishment. I did this, and then I did this, and then I went here. It may all be accurate. But everything isn’t a story—it’s a ramble. And when we give someone everything, we’re asking them to do the work of figuring us out.

The challenge of leaving things out

In an earlier article, “It Takes Time to Sound Like Yourself,” I wrote about the work of understanding your own experience—finding the throughline that connects what drives you, what you’ve done, what you’ve learned and what you want to do next.

But understanding your story is only part of the work. You also have to decide how to tell it. This is where an editorial lens comes in.

Years ago, I worked for a visual trial strategy company. My boss would often remind us that it’s not just what you include, but what you leave out, that makes a story more compelling. We were working with complex information, and the challenge was to help an audience understand what truly mattered.

Your career story deserves the same consideration. The question isn’t whether an experience was important. It’s whether it helps tell the story you want someone to understand.

Lead with the big idea

What’s the most important thing you want someone to understand about you? Perhaps it’s the kind of work you do, the problems you love solving, what you’re particularly good at or what you’re looking for next.

Start there. Then choose the experiences that bring that idea to life.

I learned this years ago when I was networking for my next role. I gave someone an account of my experience and what I was looking for—and realized afterward that I’d shared information without telling a story that helped them see what I could bring.

I began telling my story differently: leading with the kind of leader I was, the problems I loved solving and what I wanted more of next. I still drew on the same experiences, but I was more deliberate about which ones I shared and why.

Editing isn’t about changing your story. It’s about deciding what matters. Your job isn’t to tell someone everything about you. Your job is to help them get you.

Remember, you’re creating an opening

“Tell me about yourself” is the beginning of an interview or conversation, not the whole thing. There will be plenty of opportunities in the questions that follow to talk about specific roles, accomplishments and experiences. And if something you initially left out becomes relevant, you can bring it into the conversation.

You don’t have to anticipate every question or cover every possible point of interest in your opening answer.

Think of it as the opening chapter, not the whole book.

The goal isn’t to squeeze your entire career into a few minutes. It’s to give someone a clear sense of who you are and enough of a story that they lean in to learn more.

Other Posts


“Tell me about yourself . . .”

Few seemingly harmless questions elicit quite as much dread. Where do you start? What do you include? How much is too much? And there’s that nagging worry: What if the thing I leave out is actually what this person wanted to hear about?

So we try to fit it all in.

We walk through our experience chronologically, carefully accounting for each role, transition, project and accomplishment. I did this, and then I did this, and then I went here. It may all be accurate. But everything isn’t a story—it’s a ramble. And when we give someone everything, we’re asking them to do the work of figuring us out.

The challenge of leaving things out

In an earlier article, “It Takes Time to Sound Like Yourself,” I wrote about the work of understanding your own experience—finding the throughline that connects what drives you, what you’ve done, what you’ve learned and what you want to do next.

But understanding your story is only part of the work. You also have to decide how to tell it. This is where an editorial lens comes in.

Years ago, I worked for a visual trial strategy company. My boss would often remind us that it’s not just what you include, but what you leave out, that makes a story more compelling. We were working with complex information, and the challenge was to help an audience understand what truly mattered.

Your career story deserves the same consideration. The question isn’t whether an experience was important. It’s whether it helps tell the story you want someone to understand.

Lead with the big idea

What’s the most important thing you want someone to understand about you? Perhaps it’s the kind of work you do, the problems you love solving, what you’re particularly good at or what you’re looking for next.

Start there. Then choose the experiences that bring that idea to life.

I learned this years ago when I was networking for my next role. I gave someone an account of my experience and what I was looking for—and realized afterward that I’d shared information without telling a story that helped them see what I could bring.

I began telling my story differently: leading with the kind of leader I was, the problems I loved solving and what I wanted more of next. I still drew on the same experiences, but I was more deliberate about which ones I shared and why.

Editing isn’t about changing your story. It’s about deciding what matters. Your job isn’t to tell someone everything about you. Your job is to help them get you.

Remember, you’re creating an opening

“Tell me about yourself” is the beginning of an interview or conversation, not the whole thing. There will be plenty of opportunities in the questions that follow to talk about specific roles, accomplishments and experiences. And if something you initially left out becomes relevant, you can bring it into the conversation.

You don’t have to anticipate every question or cover every possible point of interest in your opening answer.

Think of it as the opening chapter, not the whole book.

The goal isn’t to squeeze your entire career into a few minutes. It’s to give someone a clear sense of who you are and enough of a story that they lean in to learn more.