The Top 5 Secrets of Your Winning College Application Essay

Introduction

Now that you’re a senior and you’ve got strong grades and test scores, do you know what’s hinging on getting into a great school?

It’s comes down to just one thing: a remarkable essay.

So how do you tell a story that distinguishes you from everyone else and makes your reader genuinely care about you?

Well, the good news is that there are just 5 specific elements of a great essay.

Let’s dive in!

1. A Vivid Introduction

It all starts with one vivid moment. In high school, most students are taught to lead with a thesis statement for their analytical essays, but in in any college application essay, you want to SHOW your reader your best qualities.

So rather than saying something like, “I’m a passionate, creative, service-oriented person hungry to make a difference in the world,” start with an opening that illustrates how you’re creative and interesting. That way your reader can feel what you’re talking about. And THAT is when they start to form a connection with you and care about your experiences.

So, instead of starting with a thesis statement, start with a short, vivid scene that either vividly depicts you as you are today or as you were before you made all of the wonderful changes you’re going to talk about.

Let’s give you an example. This is the opening of an essay we helped a student write who ended up getting accepted to Purdue, his top choice school (read the essay in full below).

Ding dong. “Hyello!” a short, plump woman wreathed in a cloud of perfume shrieked her welcome. I froze, barely able to articulate a greeting.

Tatiana appeared unfazed. She pulled me toward the piano and pushed me onto the bench.

“Now heet zee meedle see note.”

I hit 5 random notes. “Ohkay, move over. Let me show you.” She shoved me aside, leapt onto the piano bench, and hit what I now know is middle C. I nodded, mute.

This is pretty funny, isn’t it? It gets your attention. It’s certainly not boring. And it makes you want to find out how this teacher had an impact on this student. You can see that you’re pulled in right away.

So, as you write, ask yourself, does my opening pull my reader into my experience?

2. Lean, Descriptive Prose

The next element you want to consider is the way you use your language. You want to pack in as much information in as you can in 650 words, so you need vivid but concise language.

If you look at the introduction above, you can see that the student uses some powerful prose like “wreathed in a cloud of perfume,” which very quickly and concisely evokes a sense of the overwhelming stench of the teacher’s perfume. He also uses words like pulled, pushed, shoved, leapt—all very evocative words that help us understand how overpowering this woman is. He doesn’t use a lot of adverbs or prepositional phrases, which often slows things down.

3. A Strong Arc that Builds the Tension, then Resolves it

Now, let’s take a look at what comes next in this essay. This is where the student really starts to build the conflict and tell us where this essay is headed.

For the next four years, my piano lessons with Tatiana rarely differed from my first. When I struggled to play a song, she pushed me aside, and made me watch her fingers fly across the keys. By the time I was 12, I had come up with a plan to escape: drum lessons. Drums had to be easier than piano, I figured, and perhaps with a new teacher I could find the courage to articulate what I was interested in.

Here the student is starting to build up the tension. He wants OUT. It’s been four years of these terrible piano lessons with a teacher, and he’s starting to hatch a plan for how he’s going to get out.

So, now the student is pulling us in even more. We want to know what happens when he starts taking drums. Does it work out? Does he hate it? Is his teacher even worse than Tatiana? How does it impact him?

And that’s how you keep building the arc of your story: you show us what happens when that moment of conflict gets so intense that you have to make a change.

Once you’ve done that, you’ve want to show us how you resolved this conflict or tension and how you’ve grown because of it.

Let’s skip to the ending of this essay and talk about the last two elements of a great essay.

4. Take Time for Self-Reflection

As my tastes in music expanded, I began to feel more and more comfortable in my skin.  I could have let my first music teacher spoil my love of music, but somehow some instinctive part of me understood that I needed to find my own way.  Today you can even find me back at the piano.  True, my most recent melodies might not be approved by the classical music teachers of the world, but my own distinctive voice is unmistakable now.

Can you see how this student shows that he’s grown and changed? Because of those 4 years with his awful teacher, he learned that he had to forge his own path and find out what he loves. 

That kind of commentary is exactly what you want to provide, too.

5. Add an Element of Surprise

Now, let’s take a look at the way the student ends this essay:

Today you can even find me back at the piano. True, my most recent melodies might not be approved by the classical music teachers of the world, but my own distinctive voice is unmistakable now.”

After his awful experience with his piano teacher, we didn’t expect to see that he would be back playing the piano! But of course, now he’s playing in a way that lights him up and lets him express his own music.

Notice this element of surprise in here—he’s actually still playing the piano, but now in a way that lights him up. This added element of surprise does two things: delights your reader and brings the story full circle. Instead of just running away from piano and allowing his teacher to ruin the whole thing, he makes it clear that he’s open to experimenting with any mode of self-expression, no matter what his original experience was.

This is a great essay, isn’t it? It’s engaging and funny in the opening, and it shows us how this student has grown and changed because of that first experience with his terrible piano teacher. And because he's so likable, we're rooting for him the minute the essay opens.

You can tell he nailed all 5 elements of a great essay because he got into Purdue with this essay, which was his top choice school.

Now, let’s look at how some of our other students have crafted their own successful essays:

Extraordinary essays from our students

Accepted to Dartmouth, Early Decision

Slowly relaxing my grip on the white, carbon fiber shell, my knuckles regain their color. My smile stretches across continents as our boat glides across the Fault-Line Face-Off finish line into second place, higher than our team has placed in the past two years. Amongst the chanting of other teams, the heaving of some of the rowers and the orders of the officials everything faded to a black silence as my stroke seat, our team captain, turned to me. With sweat dripping off his brow and disjointed breaths sputtering from his lips, he reached to shake my hand and muttered one word: “spectacular”.

Almost one year ago, I would’ve never thought I’d share this sincere moment with one of my rowers. One year ago, I stood in the sand behind the stroke seat of the V8, the boat I had just coxed to a last place fnish. Unaware of my presence, he and my coach proceeded to analyze my coxing that afternoon. In one sentence, the stoke seat summed up my capabilities: “She is not and never will be ft to cox my boat or any other boat”.

Staggering backwards, that sentence echoed in my mind every practice for a year. In that sentence, I felt like I lost a piece of who I was. I have always been someone that teachers praise, parents compliment and peers look up to. Being characterized as someone that was seen as less than exceptional was unacceptable.

That summer, with my rower’s sentence in mind, I struggled to understand what my summer camp coach, Marcus McElhenney, was saying. I couldn’t comprehend how I could return to practice as an evolved coxswain given the conversation I overheard. Staring into my eyes, Marcus clarifed: “You are only one step away from being a great coxswain. Take that step”. Sitting in that uncomfortable hotel chair, I promised myself that I was going to do everything it took to embody the person that I once was—the person that everyone could value as exceptional.

Following that Sparks Coxswain Camp, I spent the rest of the summer pouring over my notes under the white lamp in my bedroom. I crafted race plans specifc to every race, line-up and course. I dissected my recordings, highlighting imperfect calls and calculating how many words were said per minute. By the time the frst day of practice came around, I waltzed in with my orange backpack slung across my body and my notebook, overfowing with calls tailored to each rower and advice for myself, in hand. Confdence in my capabilities was a trait I had never possessed at practice and in realizing my strengths and working on my weaknesses, a glowing confdence began to shine through. I incorporated my understanding of the psychology of my rowers and learned to harness the power of language, until I earned the title of top coxswain on the team.

To be clear, Marcus’ words didn’t change who I was but merely reminded me to find myself again—find that unparalleled hunger for exceptionalism, find the methodical mind that morphed language to move people, find the natural understanding of human psychology. Watching the young protester in Tiananmen Square apprehended by secret police inches from my grasp, reminded me that there’s so much more to be said on behalf of the voiceless. Listening to President Kagame of Rwanda illustrate his unwavering allegiance to his country and continent, reminded me that it is my responsibility to ignite the change I want to see in my world.

I want to continue to study how to carve language in ways that demand the world to listen. I want to grow completely immersed in the nuances of human psychology that provoke entire nations to stand against injustice. It is no longer an individual exceptionalism I strive for, but I can’t wait for my team, my community, my country to reign supreme.

Accepted to Columbia, Early Decision

“Hey, Alex. Are you a feminist?”

My friends and I were munching on sandwiches in the cafeteria when Susan’s words lobbed through our middle school chatter and detonated our discussion of last night’s One Tree Hill episode. Any thoughts I had about the strange plot twist of my favorite TV show instantly evaporated.

“Geez, Susan,” I sputtered. “I’m only thirteen. Of course I’m not a feminist!”

Susan turned an alarming shade of tomato red that clashed with her curly orange hair. Passive! Spineless! She threw these words at me and demanded to know how I could possibly be a female but not a feminist.

I should have been able to shrug off the incident, but her words had hit a sore spot. At the time, all I wanted was to blend in with the rest of my classmates, but I also secretly hoped I had the guts to become an Anne Frank, unyielding in my belief in my innate worth. As it was, every day, kids looked askance at my fascination with solving Rubik’s cubes and rolled their eyes when I shirked school dances in favor of math club. Afterwards, away from the sneers and eye rolls, I’d kick myself for failing to come up with witty comebacks the way my friends did. “Nerd is a four letter word for a six figure salary,” they’d shoot back. Now Susan’s words needled at me, pricking my impotent silence.

And then we started reading The Awakening in English class. Well, suddenly I woke up right alongside Edna. Okay, women were better off now thanks to women’s libbers, but reading that book made me feel a sudden sense of doom. No matter how successful I would become, I’d still be expected to get married and have children, wouldn’t I? The other students turned and stared at me during class discussions as I worked myself into a state. We might as well go back to wearing corsets and sipping tea in the parlor. I mean, how far have we really come?

While all of this turmoil was roiling around inside of me in the classroom, I was unwittingly discovering an answer in my daily swim practices. I’d set a lofty goal for myself to break a minute in the 100 yard butterfly, but after countless bad races I was beginning to lose faith in myself. One day, though, reflecting on my performance, I suddenly understood that nothing was limiting me except my mind. Over the next few weeks, fueled by this understanding, I watched myself drop full seconds off my time.

This mental victory in the pool was like a blast of sunshine on my fogged brain. I finally understood the power of the mind. So when I announced that I wanted to pursue engineering as a career and everyone around me grew wide-eyed at my choice for such a male-dominated profession, (even Susan did a double take when I told her about my decision), I kept reminding myself, Limitations exist only in the mind.

It’s funny to say it out loud, but I guess this belief makes me a feminist. Perhaps it’s not Susan’s firebrand form of feminism, but if being a feminist means believing in my intelligence and capabilities and acting from this place of strength, then I’d say, yes, Susan, I’ve finally joined the ranks of this world’s proud, audacious women.

Accepted to UPenn

I look at the man in the mirror, or rather, the girl in the mirrors on the double-door closet—sweaty and exhilarated, heart beating to the pulse of an emotional Korean pop song. After poring over slow motion versions of the dance and contorting my body to fit the moving dancer on the screen, I’m ready to teach two of my best friends the form and footwork to my favorite song. In my improvised bedroom dance studio we let loose waves of laughter as we try to copy the fast-paced dance on my computer.

Just three years before, though, you’d never have found me singing or dancing in front of others, and certainly not to K-pop. I was terrified to be caught walking alone in the hallways; I never chose a class without polling all my friends

to find out what they were taking; and I always tuned the radio to the stations my friends loved, never stopping to consider if I even liked the music.

One day, an ad on the radio for a performing arts school captivated me. Here’s your chance! it seemed to shout to my terrified side. The timing was perfect: I often found myself isolated. I seemed to exist only within the labels with which others had tagged me: the smart but quiet type, the intense oboist and pianist, the swimmer possessed with trimming one second off her best times. Enough. Time to break out.

To this day, I don’t know how I managed to convince my mother to let me audition, but the company ended up accepting me into a 6-week workshop. My mother smiled, but said no, my studies had to come first. “Get your academic foundation in place, and then you can pursue the performing arts.” Though I knew she was right, I was still devastated. That night I sent myself an email entitled “Open at the End of Senior Year.” Inside was the phone number of the performing arts school. But a couple of months later I deleted it in frustration.

Still, my attempt to reinvent myself kept calling to me. For awhile, lost, I retreated back to my quiet, insecure self. Then one sticky August day, a friend introduced me to K-pop. There was something about the electric mix of techno and pop, the upbeat pace, and the blend of voices that riveted me. And the lyrics’s depth and the way the Korean language tumbled off the tongue induced in me a kind of euphoria. I’d already been drawn to the outskirts of my school’s Korean community out of curiosity for our shared Asian roots; now my new love for this music unfurled a path right into the center of this community. I begged my Korean friends to teach me their language, stayed up late watching Korean dramas, practiced my K-pop dance for the upcoming lip-synch contest and picked out a K-pop song to sing for the talent show. It was as if I’d become an honorary Korean, and in the process I’d broken out of all those old, limiting labels.

Ever since I fell in love with K-pop, my first reaction to anything new is “Yes! Why not?” I no longer have the number to that performing arts center I was so hungry to attend, but I’ve jumped into something far more gratifying, and far earlier than the end of senior year: a boldness born first from the contentment I found in music and then from the affinity I found in a new culture. Yes! Why not take hip hop classes, why not perform at a Korean karaoke studio, why not try out a floral design class? I look again at that girl in the mirror and realize the frightened chameleon has vanished. Fueled by a lively rapport with my motley group of friends and the joyful beats pulsing through my veins, I’ve become exuberant in my newfound poise.

Accepted to Smith College and Olin School of Engineering

The little boy just outside of Lemon Thai was trying hard to push a baby carriage. As I stepped from the restaurant into the sunshine, he stared at me for a few seconds and then spoke to the even smaller boy in the stroller: “Harry! Look! That lady’s hair is like a curtain! C-U-R-T-A-I-N!” he spelled for his little brother, proud of his smarts.

I stopped short. It wasn’t just that I’d spent twenty minutes that morning styling my trademark bob. Actually, I’d spent most of my waking hours in the past twelve years fixated on preserving the perfect hairstyle I was known for. Perhaps it sounds extreme, but my hair was my identity, my happiness, and my whole life. And now this kid had reduced me to an ugly curtain?

I was five when my mother gave me my first bob complete with the thick, straight bangs so popular among Asian parents. Rather than change my hairstyle as I got older, I simply perfected my bob. For a girl born with a wide, pancake-flat face and an Everest-high forehead, I could hide my imperfections perfectly behind my hair. And I couldn’t help noticing that everyone’s eyes began to burn on my slim oval face, that compliments seemed to surround me everywhere I turned. I was beautiful, at least in the Asian way, so I was happy.

But my happiness came at an exorbitant price. To preserve my hair’s perfect volume, I followed a strict regimen: no sunbathing; no swimming; no open car windows; no windy walking; no sunny sightseeing; no traveling without mirrors, combs and hairdryers.

Not until I went to study in America did I start to realize how distorted beauty had become for me. All of the years of paging through photos in my mother’s fashion magazines had taught me that success crowned only the beautiful. Now I remembered the news of ordinary girls becoming movie stars after they underwent reconstructive surgery. I remembered the sight of graduate students waiting in line to receive plastic surgery in order to secure better jobs. But next to the American girls who loved to play sports and never minded sweaty foreheads, this idea of beauty no longer seemed relevant. And the truth was, I was lonely. I began to wonder if, just like that little boy, people saw only my hair. Who in my life could see my heart?

The next morning, with the memory of that little boy’s exuberant voice in my mind, I stood in front of the mirror. Very slowly, I parted my bangs, then brushed back the locks of hair along my cheeks. There they were – my widespread cheekbones, my broad forehead – exposed for the first time in years. I yanked my hair back with a sudden determination. Enough was enough. I remember it was a Thursday, the day my friends and I always went to Amarin for dinner. That night, as we headed to the restaurant, it was raining. Without an umbrella or any concern for the weather, I started to run.

I felt the wind against my cheeks, the raindrops dampening my hair. My heart pounded in my ears. “Come on!” I urged my friends. They stared in astonishment. Every other night we’d come here, I’d walked so slowly for fear of ruining my hair that they’d often stopped to sit on the side of the road to wait. Sometimes I was so slow that they’d called to find out what they should order. Now, watching me sprint, they gasped. “Be careful, Rui! You’ve never run before – you don’t know how slippery it might be.”

I pushed them aside. “Hurry up!” I grinned.

The day I changed my hair, I was astonished to discover that behind my hair was a girl who wanted to talk nonstop, to strike up conversations with everyone around her, to let loose a big belly laugh whenever something struck her funny, to dance to the music on her iPod that only she could hear with no care for what anyone else would think. It wasn’t that I changed so much as I simply awakened the vibrant life inside of me. Nothing could suppress me after that. Literally, I threw aside the “curtain” that had kept me in the wings of my life for so long and I started to live fully in my body. It was like learning the language of happiness all over again.

Praise from Elizabeth’s Students and Their Parents

First and foremost, I was accepted by Harvard! Thank you so much for all of your help with that sensitive letter. Your openness, enthusiasm, and optimism was absolutely what I needed at a time with such limited chances. Apparently it all paid off and I will be attending Harvard University after taking a gap year! I cannot thank you enough.

— Larry, accepted to Harvard

Today I just found out I got accepted into Cornell’s College of Engineering! And about two weeks ago, on Pi day, I’m still in shock about this one – I got into MIT!

Thank you again for your help pulling my essays and the letter of continued interest together at the last moment. It would have been really tough to stay focused and push through quality applications in the last few weeks without your help. Now I’m in the incredibly lucky position of having great choices to pick from. Your help definitely helped me with CMU and Cornell essays tremendously, but the brainstorming and writing process also gave me material for my other RD applications.

Thanks again!

— Brandon, accepted to Cornell and MIT

I GOT INTO DARTMOUTH TODAY!!!

Thank you so much for everything: the interview, the application, Dartmouth Bound and being my support through it all. I really, truly, honestly couldn't have done it without you! Thank you so much for making my dreams come true! :)

— Avery, Accepted to Dartmouth

I just got accepted as a member of Dartmouth's class of 2020! Thank you so much for all of your help in my essays and my interview! I have learned so much not only about writing college essays, but also about myself as a person and a thinker. You have really given me the guidance and confidence I needed for the college application process. Thanks again!

— Michelle, Accepted to Dartmouth

Thank you for all your help, especially in writing college essays. I went from having no idea what to write about to becoming more passionate in my essays. You helped breathe life into my writing and I’m sure that it was my college essay that helped to distinguish me from the other applicants. You knew exactly what colleges want to look at and helped me find a topic I didn’t even know I can be passionate about. Thank you so much for not only being a great teacher but also a great friend.

— Rosy, accepted to Amherst College and Wellesley College

I just wanted to thank you again for helping me SO MUCH with this college process. After you pushed me to write about UPenn, the more I thought about the school, the more I loved it. So Penn became one of my top choices and I was more than delighted to receive my acceptance email today! They also gave my family enough money that it would be possible for my family to afford Penn. Thank you so much again!

— Carina, accepted to UPenn

I was accepted to Carnegie Mellon University! Thank you so much for everything. The essays that you helped me with are without a doubt essential to the success of my application. I am very grateful or your help.

— Rich, accepted to Carnegie Mellon, Early Decision

Paul had an extraordinary run with his applications and has gotten into eight schools. He has been accepted to Harvard! (straight admit, no deferral) We are very proud of him and send you many thanks for your support and efforts as well.

— Sarah, parent of student accepted to Harvard

After all the apps, I got into Caltech, Umich, MIT, and Yale. Thank you for all your help with the essays! It definitely made the whole application process much more manageable. I am so excited to be a college student next year!

— Maggie, accepted to MIT, Yale, Caltech

I just found out that I got into Columbia so I guess I won’t be needing those extra essays . . . thank you so much for all of your help. I honestly don’t know if my essays could have been as good as they were without you!

— Alexandra, accepted to Columbia University, Early Decision

I’d just like to say thanks again for editing my college essays. More importantly, I witnessed the trademarks of a great teacher, one who not only teaches but also befriends. You were someone who not only corrected but also explained, deepening my understand on the subject at hand. Thanks to you, I will be attending Duke next fall. I will never forget.

— Kevin, accepted to Duke

For our family, Elizabeth’s program has been a game changer, a life changer, really. We knew our daughter’s ability to differentiate herself was important in the college admissions process. “Try this, do that” we told her pushing “another thing” on a teenager. Good grief. Elizabeth, not her parents, offered a structure that our daughter, Bayne, bought into. No pushing now required. What’s really happening to Bayne is her ongoing development of confidence, creativity and sense of purpose. Her project, refined by Elizabeth, has become a community service outreach, a college essay, an excitement about a possible career, and a source of pride for Bayne. But we, her parents, learned a lot along the way too. While geared at high schoolers, Elizabeth’s lessons gave us a few ideas too on getting better. Our daughter has and it appears will continue to flourish in large part because of Elizabeth’s programs.

— Steve, parent of a high school junior