Reworking a Personal CV Site: Structure Lessons with InBio

The moment I realized my portfolio site wasn’t doing its only job

I used to treat my personal website like a small vanity project: update it when I had time, adjust the colors when I got bored, add a new section when I learned something new. It looked “fine” for years. Yet the outcome never matched the effort. I’d share the link after calls, I’d include it on proposals, I’d paste it in applications—and still, the follow-up conversations made it obvious that people weren’t really using the site. They were visiting, skimming, and leaving without a clear next step.

That became painful to admit, because a CV/portfolio site has exactly one job: help a busy person understand who you are and what you do in under a minute. If it can’t do that, the site is noise, not leverage.

The trigger was simple. A recruiter asked me a question that my site technically answered, but only if you were willing to read. Another client referenced the wrong area of my experience, as if they had only seen the top section and assumed the rest. I finally accepted that the issue was not missing content; it was information order and decision flow.

So I rebuilt the site using InBio – Personal Portfolio/CV WordPress Theme and approached the work like an admin project rather than a design experiment. What follows is not a pitch and not a checklist. It’s my calm, practical log: what I changed, why I changed it, and what improved after the site settled.

I stopped asking “Does this look modern?” and asked “Does this scan well?”

Personal sites fail quietly, because the owner already knows the content. That bias is dangerous. I knew my background, so my homepage felt obvious. A visitor didn’t know me. They arrived with limited time and a narrow question: Is this person relevant to what I need?

I reviewed sessions the same way I review a landing page for a product:

  • How long until a visitor sees a clear role definition?
  • How quickly can they find proof (projects, outcomes, credibility cues)?
  • Can they identify the right action (contact, download, schedule) without hunting?
  • Does the site feel stable on mobile or does it feel “busy”?

I noticed the main weakness immediately: my site was written like a narrative. Visitors don’t read narratives on a CV site. They test the page. They scroll quickly, stop briefly, scroll again, and decide whether the page deserves attention. If the test fails, they leave—even if the content is good.

So I rebuilt for scanning first, reading second.

The hidden problem with CV sites: they often assume the visitor cares

This is harsh but useful. Visitors don’t arrive caring about you. They arrive caring about their task. Your site has to earn attention by being frictionless.

I identified three types of visitors:

  1. The high-intent visitor They already heard of you. They want confirmation: role, credibility, availability.

  2. The evaluator They’re comparing candidates. They want quick proof and clear positioning.

  3. The curious visitor They clicked out of interest. They might convert later, but only if the page makes sense fast.

My old site only served the high-intent visitor well. It assumed patience. The rebuild had to serve evaluators and curious visitors too, because that’s where opportunities come from.

I treated the homepage like a one-minute briefing, not a story

When I look at strong personal sites, they feel calm and decisive. They don’t explain everything. They allow the visitor to form a correct impression quickly, then choose a path.

So I constrained what the homepage was allowed to do:

  • Clarify role and focus (not with buzzwords, with specificity).
  • Provide immediate proof points (projects, outcomes, recognizable categories).
  • Offer a structured route to deeper evidence (case pages, timeline, skills context).
  • Keep the visual rhythm stable and predictable.

I removed anything that felt like “throat clearing.” Long intros, broad mission statements, paragraphs that say a lot but prove little. Those things may sound professional, but they delay understanding.

The surprising effect: the site felt more professional after I removed “professional-sounding” sentences.

The decision that changed everything: I separated “identity” from “evidence”

My old layout blended identity (who I am) and evidence (what I’ve done) into the same block. That forced visitors to decode meaning from text. Busy people won’t.

So I made a deliberate separation:

  • Identity: role definition, scope, what I actually do
  • Evidence: selected work, context, outcomes, proof cues

This helped visitors form a mental model quickly. Once someone knows what bucket to place you in, they can interpret your evidence correctly. Without that bucket, even good projects feel random.

I rebuilt the project area to support comparison, not admiration

This was important. The typical mistake is turning projects into a gallery. Galleries look nice, but they don’t help visitors evaluate.

Evaluators want:

  • what problem it was
  • what you contributed
  • what changed after
  • what constraints existed
  • why it matters

They don’t need a long story. They need clarity.

So I structured project presentation so that each item can be understood in seconds, and then explored deeper if the visitor wants to.

I did not add flashy interactions. I minimized anything that made the page feel like a “presentation.” A personal site is not a stage; it’s a tool.

Mobile revealed the real friction

Desktop can hide weak hierarchy because there is room to breathe. Mobile exposes everything.

On mobile, I saw patterns that were uncomfortable:

  • visitors scrolled past the intro too quickly to absorb it
  • they missed key proof points because they were placed below decorative sections
  • tap targets felt ambiguous in some areas
  • the layout felt “long” even when content wasn’t excessive

I approached mobile like this: if I only had 15 seconds to explain relevance, where would I place the proof?

That led to simple adjustments:

  • earlier proof cues
  • tighter spacing rhythm
  • fewer “break sections” that reset context
  • clearer visual boundaries between content types

I also removed movement that didn’t add meaning. Movement can feel modern, but it can also feel fragile. For a CV site, fragility is a trust problem.

A calm site earns trust faster than a clever one

I used to believe that a personal site should feel unique. Now I think it should feel reliable.

A hiring manager or client is not looking for novelty. They are looking for a person who will deliver. A calm layout signals control. A chaotic layout signals experimentation.

So I avoided:

  • over-styled headings
  • too many accent colors
  • unusual navigation patterns
  • sections that look like “design tricks”

Instead I focused on:

  • consistent typography sizes
  • predictable section rhythm
  • short paragraphs
  • headings that carry meaning, not flair

When the layout stops competing for attention, the content can do its job.

I corrected a common mistake: treating skills as a list instead of context

I didn’t want a “skills wall.” Skills walls look impressive but rarely inform decisions. Most people don’t hire you because you listed a tool. They hire you because you demonstrated thinking and delivery under constraints.

So I framed skills through context:

  • where I used them
  • what kind of work they supported
  • what problems they helped solve
  • how I make decisions when trade-offs exist

This doesn’t require long writing; it requires deliberate placement. A few well-placed lines can explain more than a long list.

Importantly, I did not turn this into a marketing claim. I kept the tone factual and operational.

Maintenance became a design constraint, not an afterthought

This is where my admin mindset shows. Personal sites decay when updating them is annoying. If editing requires careful alignment, perfect image sizes, or rewriting every section, you stop updating. Then the site becomes stale, and staleness destroys trust.

So I designed the rebuild for easy maintenance:

  • sections tolerate different content lengths
  • images have consistent handling (so replacements don’t break layout)
  • project entries follow a repeatable structure
  • navigation remains stable even as content grows

I asked myself: can I update this in 10 minutes without breaking anything? If not, it’s not a sustainable design.

I set rules for what the site should not include

This is something I wish I did years earlier.

A personal site can expand endlessly: blog posts, thought pieces, awards, testimonials, newsletters, downloads. Those can be useful, but they can also dilute the primary signal.

So I established boundaries:

  • the homepage is not a blog archive
  • the homepage is not a full biography
  • the homepage is not an endless scroll of unrelated sections
  • the primary path must remain visible at all times

This reduced cognitive load and made the site feel “tighter,” which improved the quality of inquiries I received.

The category context I used while planning structure

While mapping the rebuild, I looked across layout patterns in Multipurpose WordPress themes not to copy styles, but to notice which structures consistently support scanning: where proof appears, how sections transition, and how navigation stays calm even when content is dense. The benefit of looking at multipurpose patterns is that they emphasize hierarchy over niche gimmicks—and hierarchy is the core problem on most portfolio sites.

I kept notes on:

  • where a visitor’s eye naturally lands
  • what information usually appears above the fold
  • how case items are summarized without becoming a list of features
  • how visual rhythm prevents “scroll fatigue”

Then I applied those principles to my own content, which mattered more than any specific visual.

After launch: what improved in the first two weeks

I didn’t rush to conclusions on day one. I watched how behavior changed once the new layout became normal.

What improved:

  • fewer “wandering” scroll sessions with no clicks
  • more direct clicks into projects
  • fewer short bounces from the homepage
  • messages that referenced specific work rather than generic interest

The most satisfying improvement wasn’t traffic. It was clarity. People came into conversations with a more accurate understanding of what I do.

That means the site stopped being decorative and started being useful.

The rebuild only mattered if it changed what people did

A portfolio site can look cleaner and still fail. The only improvement that matters is behavioral: do visitors understand faster, decide faster, and take a meaningful next step without friction?

After the rebuild, I tried to be strict with myself. I didn’t look for praise. I looked for evidence that the site was doing its job:

  • fewer “wandering” sessions where users scroll for 30–60 seconds and leave
  • more clicks into a small set of meaningful pages
  • fewer confused messages like “what do you actually do?”
  • more messages that reference specific work and constraints

That last one is crucial. If a visitor references constraints, it means they read like a decision-maker, not a casual browser.

How I rebuilt the CV timeline without turning it into a biography

My old timeline was chronological and long. Chronology is honest, but it’s not always useful. A busy evaluator doesn’t want a life story. They want a narrative of capability: what patterns of work have you repeatedly delivered, and what scope can you handle now?

So I redesigned the timeline around signals, not nostalgia.

The problem with most CV timelines

They mix everything:

  • job titles
  • responsibilities
  • tool lists
  • random achievements

That creates noise. People end up reading the title, then skipping the paragraph, then scrolling. The timeline becomes decorative.

The adjustment I made

I compressed each period into a small, consistent pattern:

  • what the role actually meant in practice (scope)
  • what kind of outcomes were typical (results framed calmly)
  • what constraints were present (team size, system complexity, time pressure)
  • a single phrase that anchors the identity (how I think/work)

I didn’t add heroic claims. I removed unnecessary adjectives. The goal was to produce a stable mental model: This person has repeatedly operated in X kind of environment and produces Y kind of outcomes.

The timeline became less “complete” and more “useful.”

I treated scroll as a cost, not a neutral action

One lesson I learned from watching sessions is that scroll isn’t free. People pay for scroll with attention. They will scroll quickly at first, but if they keep scrolling without receiving meaningful information, they feel fatigue and quit.

That’s what I call scroll debt: the page asks for too much movement before it pays back with clarity.

So I rebuilt the page rhythm with a simple rule:

Every 1–2 screenfuls should contain at least one “meaningful decision point.”

A decision point can be:

  • a clear project summary that invites deeper reading
  • a short proof cue that confirms credibility
  • a route to an obvious next page
  • a section boundary that resets context cleanly

This doesn’t mean “add buttons everywhere.” It means: don’t make people travel through vague text to reach useful information.

A quiet change that helped more than I expected: fewer section styles

My old site used too many section styles:

  • different backgrounds
  • different card shapes
  • different spacing logic
  • different icon treatments

It looked “designed,” but it increased cognitive load. Every time the style changed, visitors needed a moment to interpret what the section was. That moment is friction.

So I reduced style variation. Sections became more consistent: similar spacing, consistent headings, predictable structure. The site felt calmer.

Calmness is underrated on personal sites. Calmness reads as competence.

“Proof” is not the same as “more work”

Another uncomfortable truth: showing more projects can reduce trust if it looks scattered. If the work looks inconsistent or unrelated, an evaluator may assume you’re unfocused.

So I did something that felt risky: I made the visible work set smaller and more representative.

Not “best work,” but:

  • work that clearly expresses the scope I want to be hired for
  • work that shows decision-making under constraint
  • work that demonstrates repeatable patterns

Then I made the deeper archive available for those who want it, but I didn’t force it into the first impression.

Visitors don’t need your entire history. They need a coherent signal.

The mistake I corrected: writing like I’m explaining myself to a friend

I used to write portfolio copy in a conversational way: long paragraphs, personal context, “here’s what happened.” That feels human, but it’s not how evaluators consume content.

Evaluators skim. They pick out structure. They want to understand quickly. So I rewrote paragraphs into shorter blocks that still sound human but behave like information.

The shift was not “more formal.” It was “more structured.”

I kept the tone calm, not salesy, and avoided superlatives. But I became more disciplined with sentence purpose. Every paragraph needed to pay rent.

A non-obvious issue: ambiguity around what I’m available for

A lot of personal sites fail because they are vague about availability. Visitors don’t know:

  • whether you are open to freelance
  • whether you are looking for a role
  • whether you accept small projects or only larger ones
  • whether you can work across time zones

If visitors are uncertain, they delay contact or skip it entirely.

I solved this without writing an “availability section” that feels like a pitch. I did it with small clarifying lines placed where they naturally help decisions: near the identity statement and near the contact path.

Clarity reduces hesitation. Hesitation kills conversions.

I redesigned the contact path to feel low-friction, not urgent

The worst contact experiences feel like a demand: “Contact me now.” That can create resistance, especially for cautious visitors who are still exploring.

So I made the contact path calmer:

  • one clear route
  • consistent wording
  • no aggressive calls
  • no noisy form blocks scattered everywhere

The contact action became something that felt “available,” not forced.

The result was subtle: fewer low-quality pings, more thoughtful messages.

Common portfolio mistakes I corrected (and how they show up in behavior)

Mistake 1: The hero section is big but says little

Behavior signal: fast scroll past the fold, no clicks, short session.

Fix: make role definition specific and immediately useful.

Mistake 2: Too many competing CTAs

Behavior signal: menu opens, backtracking, no commitment.

Fix: one primary action, one secondary action, consistent language.

Behavior signal: quick clicks into projects then immediate bounce back.

Fix: add enough context upfront so clicking feels worthwhile.

Mistake 4: Long paragraphs with low density

Behavior signal: scrolling pauses decrease, visitors skim without stopping.

Fix: break content into smaller blocks with meaning-carrying headings.

Mistake 5: Over-styled visuals

Behavior signal: visitors scroll quickly but don’t interact.

Fix: reduce style noise so content can be processed.

The “light technical” side: why stability matters on a personal site

Even if you’re not selling a product, your site is a trust surface. If it feels slow or jumpy, it quietly reduces confidence. People might not consciously blame you, but they’ll feel a small doubt: If the site is messy, what else is messy?

So I treated stability as part of personal credibility:

  • reduced layout shifts
  • reduced heavy motion effects
  • ensured tap targets were clear on mobile
  • kept typography readable without zooming

I didn’t chase performance scores for bragging rights. I cared about “does this feel normal on a mid-range phone.”

A note on keeping the site from decaying over time

I’ve watched portfolio sites slowly turn into junk drawers. Every new thing gets added because “it might help.” Over time, the signal gets diluted.

So I wrote maintenance rules for myself:

  1. If I add a project, I must remove or archive something else.
  2. If a section doesn’t support the current role positioning, it moves deeper or disappears.
  3. If I change the homepage, I must re-check the one-minute scan test.
  4. If the site becomes longer, the rhythm must improve, not degrade.

These rules keep the site coherent.

Coherence is the rarest quality in personal websites.

Where the theme base helped me stay disciplined

A structured base makes it easier to avoid tinkering. When the layout supports hierarchy well, you can stop fiddling with micro-design and focus on content order and clarity.

In that sense, the theme acted like guardrails. Guardrails are valuable when you’re the kind of person who likes to tweak.
morillasofi415@gmail.com

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