Hello.
My name is Val.
I am dyslexic.
I struggle to spell simple words. At school,
my teachers saw an articulate child who was possibly a little like Hermione
Granger when it came to enthusiastically answering questions. It was clear I
wasn't stupid and so my poor spelling was labelled 'careless'.
That demoralising word was scrawled over most of
my written work, regularly appeared in school reports and was often spoken at parents’
evenings. It made me unhappy and ate away at my confidence because I did care,
I cared very much, I simply could not work out the codes that helped others
spell, and I failed to detect incorrectly spelt words. How I ever passed any
exams is totally beyond me, but I did. I suppose it proves that hard work can
overcome almost anything. Now, in the age of word processing, spellcheckers have
removed some of the stress and changed my life for the better.
I still struggle
with what I call ‘too-many-words’. Dense writing is daunting and, very often,
incomprehensible. I can read the words individually, but put them together and
the meaning is unclear unless – and this is the weird bit – the jumble of words
fires my imagination. Factual writing baffles me and most fiction is a chore.
As a writer of fiction for children and YA, I
am often asked for my favourite childhood book. I never had one. I hardly ever
read for pleasure. I know I missed out, and still do. I am constantly looking
for a book that will enthral me, but rarely find one.
This blog is my confession to fellow
bloggers. I seldom read their blogs and this bothers me. It feels discourteous.
Please forgive me.
My name is Val.
I am dyslexic.
