Writing While Dyslexic, and “Oh, Look, a Squirrel!”

By Chanah Wizenberg

I’m a writer with dyslexia and ADD/ADHD (the “H” is intermittent, depending on the mood of my doctor). What motivated me to write this post was an emotional response I had to a discussion in our TAF Google group on this topic a few months ago: “What’s the grammar/style/editing beach you’re willing to die on?” More specifically, the answers to that question, which were turned into a post on this site titled Quirks that Irk.

It jettisoned me back to elementary school, bringing back feelings of anxiety, fear, and stupidity. At least that was the message I received from my teachers and the default used for students who failed to perform as well or better than their peers. 

My father was a university professor, and my mother a retired teacher. Therefore, the pressure was on to do well in school. Teaching myself how to read before kindergarten resulted from my powerful motivation and desire to do well. However, once I entered school, the teachers took control of how I learned, and I started falling behind. Problems spiraled from there, beginning with an argument with my first-grade teacher, which elevated to the level of shouting:

“How do you spell what?”

“W-A-T”!”  I replied.

It went back and forth until I was made to go sit in the corner because I did not see the letter “H” in the word when I read it, getting the spelling wrong every time. Spelling tests became a special kind of hell. That’s when the stomach and headaches began. 

Grammar lessons presented the most difficulty for me and were about as interesting as watching paint dry. It was bad enough the letters on the page jumped around, with some word endings attaching themselves to the following words. Sentences that continued onto the next line were especially tough since it took me forever to find my place. That was all hard enough, but then I had to learn grammar? It was too much.

To keep myself from dying of torture and boredom, I resorted to looking out the window and daydreaming, creating stories about the squirrels and birds and mystery stories about lost kids for a good part of class time. My teacher snapped me out of my reverie every so often, asking questions she knew I couldn’t answer. As a result, my mother was called in to meet with my teacher every week from grades 1-4. Teachers didn’t understand that girls with ADHD often show symptoms such as daydreaming and not being able to sit still. The savvier teachers had me run errands and clap the erasers outside to help me burn off energy. 

In second grade, an official examiner marched me down the hall to a small room where she conducted a thorough examination, which included IQ tests. The tests were untimed. With the pressure of time removed, I relaxed, finding the tests interesting and fun. I scored well above the average for children my age. That earned me the more permanent label of lazy.

Years later, I was properly diagnosed with not one but four learning issues: dyslexia, which impairs a person’s ability to decode, or associate letters and words with their corresponding speech sounds; dysgraphia, which interferes with all aspects of writing, including spelling, grammar, and punctuation; dyscalculia, which impairs a person’s ability to learn number-related concepts or perform calculations with symbols and functions; and ADHD.

I was relieved and thrilled to learn there was help for me. I became a successful college student at Hunter College in NYC, a City University of New York school, where I majored in English and creative writing with a minor in secondary education. 

The old wounds were still there, damaging my confidence. Yet, I persisted and persevered, making the dean’s list, then progressing to achieve cum laude, magna cum laude, and to my shock and delight, summa cum laude designations. That’s when I learned that success is the best revenge.

All these years later, grammar is still not my forte, and the quirks that irk us as writers both reminded me of what irks me, while also bringing home my insecurities. I still carry them, although these days most of the time, I manage to keep them submerged. There are times they rear up and smack me in the face, knocking me off kilter even though I’m published in several anthologies, magazines, and a few newspapers. But just like a ship at sea, no matter how hard the waves try to sink me, I get righted and sail… uh …write on.

What’s helped me? Technology! When I started using a computer with word a processor, it changed my life. Technology has been a lifesaver for my writing. Without it, I wouldn’t be writing now. ProWritingAid, Grammarly, and my MacBook Pro have been especially useful to me as a writer with dyslexia, dysgraphia, and ADD with an intermittent H.

~~~

Did you know there’s a World Dyslexia Day? Me either. Come October, check it out and if you’re quick to judge someone’s spelling, grammar, or usage, please remember my journey and don’t be too quick to condemn. They may be dealing with dyslexia. Just think about all the writers who have it: Octavia Butler, Agatha Christie, Jeanne Betancourt, John Erving, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jules Verne, Octavia Spencer, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Benjamin Zephaniah, Sally Gardner, and Henry Winkler, to name a few.

Now what’s that squirrel up to?

Chanah Wizenberg received her BA from Hunter College in English and creative writing. Her work has been published in several anthologies and magazines, including but not limited to the Heron Clan Vol. 8, TAF Stays Home, Reflections & Revelations, Fines Lines, and Cary Magazine. She has been a professional ballerina, a pastry chef, and English teacher. She resides in Raleigh, North Carolina, with her dog, Asha, and her cat, Marmalade.

Note: The definitions of the diagnoses used in this post are from The University of Texas Permian Basin