“I didn’t have the time to write you a short letter, so I’m writing you a long one instead,” Mark Twain is supposed to have written on a postcard to his friend. Good writers have always known that distilling one’s thoughts into a limited space takes effort and skill. (Bad writers sprinkle around lots of footnotes and pretend they’re not included in the word count.) So it must be immensely frustrating to whittle your life story and all your aspirations into about 600 words, only to find that the recipient has merely skim-read them. That’s the experience of students writing a UK university application personal statement – limited to 4,000 characters – which harassed admissions staff now only spend about two minutes reading.
I sympathise with the students, who are obliged to waffle on about all the hobbies they’re expected to be beavering away at while simultaneously studying for A-levels and probably holding down a part-time job. But perhaps universities are teaching them a valuable, if brutal lesson. Two minutes’ attention from a time-pressed stranger is a luxury that they will seldom enjoy in adulthood. It’s also more than enough time to read 600 words. So, if they can’t sell themselves in a short essay, how are they ever going to get anyone to open their emails, read their Tinder profiles, or pay attention to their strongly worded complaint to the British Airways customer services team? At what age is it appropriate to learn that everyone else is just too busy to listen to you selling yourself?
