Having gone with a popular song title to head up this post, I’d have to say that if ever there was a biography written on my life story, it too would reference a popular song from way back in the day.

But I’ll get to that.

First you have to suffer / skip through some inane chat. 😉

You see, I reckon we enjoy reading biographies because we as a species, are innately voyeuristic. Maybe that’s too strong a word – but we’re certainly nosey!

Deny if you will, but I’m fairly certain everyone enjoys reading of and comparing their life to that of others. Admiration; incredulity; jealousy, perhaps, or maybe just a feeling of smug self-satisfaction – what’s not to like?

It’s often said everyone has ‘a book in them’ and I’m a subscriber to that notion. Especially for any aspiring writer, I’d suggest an autobiography would be a good starting point – a terrific schooling tool where focus can be on the technical aspects of writing without the added complication and worry of a plot.

Whether we take Life in our stride or strive to overcome particular issues, everyone experiences good and bad; exciting and mundane.

In my biography for instance, mention would be made of: having a gun pointed at my face from ten feet away, during an armed raid on my Bank branch; tending to a dying woman at 4am in a wet and dark Glasgow street after she’d been knocked down by the car in front of me; evacuating a building of forty plus staff and running through smoke-filled corridors checking for others, as the Bank branch (a different one) was consumed by a raging fire; writing for a national music magazine; self-publishing three books, etc., etc., etc.,

Oh yeah – and surviving a cardiac arrest.

And what would my biography be called?

Well, given that I’m only a dinky five feet, four inches tall (?) I’d suggest using a slightly misquoted line from a Val Doonican hit (it reached #3 in the UK) from the 1964:

‘Walk tall, walk straight and look the world right in the … chest.‘