Last night I went to the Dyspla festival Gala Night. It was a really wonderful experience. I got to mix with other brilliant dyslexic people, there were delicious refreshments, and I got to hear some very talented speakers. There is also an event called The Whispering Theater, and the showing of a film about Dyspla, both of which I thought were very powerful.
There will be events for the rest of the week for the festival, and if you are considering going I would really encourage you to do so. (More information here: http://www.dysthelexi.com/dyspla-2013/)
Having said that...It was a bit of an odd experience for me as well. Gradually, as the night went on, I felt more and more uncomfortable, and at first I wasn't sure why. I just knew I felt there was something wrong with what was going on around me, which was interesting. I poked, and prodded mentally at this feeling and tried to figure out why I felt like this...and then why I felt sad, and angry...and other things...proud, too. I didn't really like feeling proud, it irritated me.
Dyspla is all about dyslexic pride. You go there to celebrate, and to feel proud, of yourself, and other dyslexic people, right? That's a good thing, isn't it?
I slowly realized my discomfort came from a mixture of things, a steady accumulation of information, that when brought together as a whole, I just felt deeply troubled by.
Partly, it's about voices, and partly it's about narratives.
All over the Dyspla posters and materials are things about the voice of dyslexic people finally being heard, in a range of mediums, unrestricted by spelling and words...Brilliant. While talking with other dyslexics, this came up, we felt we were at the start of a new movement, where dyslexic people were finally advocating for themselves, and the word 'voices' was used again...finally all those long silence voices were being heard.
But, looking around the room, and talking to people, I seemed to be one of the youngest person there, excluding those helping run the event. I am 24, and gradually it became clear I had very different experiences to most of the other dyslexic people around me. I was identified as dyslexic at the age of 6, everyone else seemed to have found out much later, some only a few years ago. Most of them didn't get much or any extra support as children. I did, and as a result my literacy skills are very good. I actually have a degree in English and Creative Writing. I needed a lot of help to get to that stage, where as other people around me had been able to complete high level qualifications without support, with just pure hard graft and ingenuity. If I hadn't been identified and given intensive one to one support for years, I have no doubt in my mind I would not have been able to go to university. I would barely be literate or numerate, as I also struggle with maths, and had an hour of extra tuition a week over five years so I could get a GCSE C in Maths.
I've got talents, sure...I'm gifted, as well as dyslexic, (aka twice exceptional), which it's a bitch of a thing to be. Grateful as I am for my gifts and abilities, I often find myself wishing I was not gifted, because it's very lonely, and because with the severity of my dyslexia it is infuriating. Not only have I always known I am not stupid, I have always known I was one of the very brightest, if not THE brightest child in my class (even if I didn't know I was gifted at the time), and sometimes I knew I was brighter than the people trying to teach me, but I could not express this in a way that led to validation, or at least not the sort I really needed...I'm also naturally an academic creature, and so, I became incredibly fucked up, bitter, and angry. I also used to be pretty arrogant. I wrapped myself in arrogance to protect myself from all the attacks to my self esteem, the very sense of who I was, and I was full of this terrible hate...for myself for being like this, as well as towards others for making me feel this way, sometimes just by existing.
Take away that support I had, and I wouldn't be somewhere like Dyspla. I would have killed myself. I am not saying this purely for effect, I had a miserable childhood, was bullied at home (who doesn't love a helping of domestic abuse?), and at points very badly in school, and when I was a teenager, I thought very seriously about ending my life. I went as far as getting a pair of scissor, and curling up behind my bed, and I was going to cut my wrists. I wanted the cold metal against my skin, the physical pain, and the blood, and to stick two finger up at the whole fucking world. I didn't believe in an after life, I just wanted to disappear somewhere no one was going to judge me ever, ever again...somewhere totally unreachable.
I couldn't take it, not the dyslexia, but the pressure of those bastard gifts that came with it. I couldn't deal with the narrative of my unfulfilled potential.
Basically, if I hadn't known I was dyslexic, and didn't have help, and didn't decide, actually, I didn't have to prove anything to anyone but myself; That all I had to do win the poisonous game I was playing was to opt out, to just be happy, not to strive to succeed...I'd be completely screwed. I'm acutely aware of this, and I know there are other kids with dyslexia in similar positions, gifted or otherwise. There are people like me, who didn't get the help I got, and some of them will make different choices to me. They do harm themselves, and they don't all go to university, some of them turn to drink and drugs, and I have seen it happen, and I have met some of the people who represent those depressing prison statistics. A young man the same age as me, from the same town, and he learnt to read in prison. While I was at University, that was what he was doing, serving a prison sentence, and I understood, when he told me about how he ended up there, how the dyslexia had played it's part, and I understood how the support I got altered my fate so dramatically, perhaps for the first time.
I have a terrible survivors guilt over this. It's part of why I try to do things to help. I cannot stand the thought of other people suffering like I suffered, not when I know what it is like, not when I could do things to take away that agony. If as a kid, I knew someone like the adult I am now didn't do this, I'd find them disgusting (I wasn't ever be this harsh now, but I was passionate, and I didn't quite get the complexity involved in all this). I wouldn't be able to understand how they could knowingly allow the experiences I had to continue, and that is how I felt when I looked at some dyslexic celebrates as a child.
If you are so successful, if I should strive to be like you. and you are like me, really like me, why I am I going thought this? Why haven't all of you used your money and influence to change things so children like me don't feel this bad?
Walls, of those faces...privileged, successful, perfect, faces...
I knew I wasn't going to be like them. I'm not an idiot, like I say, I wasn't going to be a movie star, or some millionaire businesses person, IT wizz, politician, or comedian...I wasn't sure I even wanted to be any of those things, I just wanted to feel accepted, for who I was, as a whole package. But that wasn't part of the narrative I had forced down my throat.
Deny the weakness...embrace the strength...deny you were ever weak to start with.
Don't we all love a good under dog story? 'Keira Knightly overcame her dyslexia,' the newspaper clipping says...and I wonder, does she really never fuck up the way I do? Do you get so good at your particular thing you can really erase your difficulties until you are left only with ability?
It was like a fairy tale, and like all fairy tales, it's always felt like wish fulfillment, and bullshit.
The hardest part is I want to believe it, I want someone to come along and tell me that really, I'm special. That I have magical powers, or some great destiny...and I don't. I'd look up at the stars at night in my garden in my teens, and I'd know...I really do not matter, all these things we accumulate, possesions, praise, awards, what grades or job I get, who was popular at school, the love and the heart break I've yet to experience...non of it really means anything. No one is really all that special in the greater scheme of things, and honestly, that's totally ok.
I'm not denying the gifts, but we aren't all gift. We cannot retrospectively re-write our pasts, and we shouldn't say it's ok to be tormented and to experience terrible things if it has been 'character building,' or you were successful, in the end, and proved all those bastards who doubted you wrong...Because, what if you don't? What about people with those gifts who cannot with grit and ingenuity alone fulfill this twisted destiny? What do you feel then if you are that person, and you look back on your life? What do you feel hearing those stories of all the people exceptional people 'like you' who made good?
Because I am terrified this will be me. That I have been through hell, and I wont be able to join the pantheon of dyslexic gods, and say 'it was all worth it in the end, now I have this perfect career, and if your a child struggling it will all be alright in the end...'
You know, the domestic abuse was pretty 'character building,' but I still have nightmares about it, and my father. I would hope no one would say to me that this was all ok, because of what I have achieved in spite of it. Yet when it comes to dyslexia, and the trauma that goes with this, the narratives we have seem to imply this. Which is very scary to me, because when abuse becomes normalized, either in a family, or community, then it is more likely it will perpetuated through future generations. I'm not saying everyone should feel bad about upleasent aspects of the dyslexic experience (which is bigger than just gift vs learning disability), just that rather than talking about how great it is to over come all that we should be furious it happened as well, and is still happening...We shouldn't be saying it's all ok, and worth it, when people do well. The mistreatment of children, especial ones with shared qualities, like race, or disability, is never ok.
And it's not just me who feels this. I used to mentor kids with dyslexia at my old school. It had a dyslexia unit, so there were lots of dyslexic children there, some with very severe difficulties. I would try to encourage them by talking about the celebrates, and so on, but it didn't really touch a lot of them. They were too distant, too removed from the lives they were actually living. They knew, as I did, that they probably were not going to be like them. They were smart kids, and they knew that sort of thing was not in their futures. What really helped, was talking about ordinary people, and telling them I was dyslexic too. I got it, I really really got it, and they were brave, and clever, and yes, oh yes their problem were real and awful...but together we were going to deal with them. We acknowledged the strengths, and the weaknesses, that eternal contradiction...and then I tried to help them accept that, the duality, to accept themselves...even the bits that made things harder, and all the social problems that came packaged with them.
But this is just the background, what set me off thinking all this was that all the people who spoke at Dyspla where successful dyslexic people of a different generation to me, and the boy on the train who had just left prison, those kids with dyslexia, and other special needs. They all said they wouldn't want to be identified as dyslexic when they were children.
It makes sense those were the speakers at Dyspla, as it is a celebration, and these were people with established careers worth celebrating. I barely have a career, and nor do most of my friends. Those kids I used to mentor don't, and nor do the dyslexic people who couldn't get by on grit and ingenuity to reach success (something I find increasingly slippery and difficult to define). But the speakers we heard were meant to be part of a debate...and I used to do debate in school, and there are two sides to debates. In this instance, every speaker agreed with one another. They all thought dyslexia was a good thing, a gift.
The speakers were people who got through with grit an ingenuity, unlike us...the others I knew with dyslexia growing up, even though we needed this too. We were the missing voices, the stories going untold...I cannot help but wonder what the boy on the train would say, if I said, with all my privileged access to education, and finance from my parents, that he had a gift. If it were me, my shadow self, the girl that was left to fail...I'd have laughed in the face of that young women, a bitter angry laughter.
Where is his voice, her voice?
I kept waiting for someone to say they felt dyslexia, and the dyslexic experience, wasn't a gift...I think that would have been very valuable.
It's really not I didn't enjoy Dyspla, and I think the speakers should be proud of themselves, and should be celebrated. I know they have suffered to, and I ached for them. I connected with their experiences. I know it's because of people like them that there is more awareness of dyslexia, and that people like me are helped now. But it highlighted something to me...and it's that we still have a very, very long way to go before dyslexic people, all dyslexic people, are really being heard.
We need Dyspla championing success, but the narrative of success can be dangerous. It's such a heavy thing to give children to carry with them through life, that desperate need for it. It still feels like playing the game that started for me in school, as a community, it feels like we are all after that elusive, ultimate gold star, that will finally give us the validation we never got as children.
Look world, we are not stupid, it's you who are stupid for not seeing how fantastic we are!
There is a terrible, hungry, sightless thing inside me, born of the pain of my youth, and it wants trophies, and accolades, and prestige...my inner Golum, if you will, it craves the Precocious, even when going after it is unpleasant, or when I'm pushing myself too hard. When, maybe, there are other things that would make me happier, and yes, it's meant I got A*'s for a lot of my GCSE English course work, and things like that, but who gives a fuck? Who is really keeping score...the non dyslexics certainly aren't, they don't care (apart from my mother, and she just wants to fix me). I'm the only one who really cares about my little achievements, and I achieve to ease a pain that is never fully going to go away. It's a different sort of weakness, and I really think I will only win, really win, when I stop playing, when I focus just on being me, and doing what makes me happy, and stop caring what anybody else thinks...but that's very difficult to do.
I think, as a community, we need more balance...and we need to kill The Myth of Success, the harmful side of this story, one that claims we all have this all or nothing birth right. That one day, if you are a very good dyslexic boy and girl, you will get to be vindicated, and celebrated, and loved, you will earn it...rather than just deserving all that as a human being, and not having anything to prove. We need to toss this myth in the volcano, and to let the thing driving us go in with it. So we can breathe freely, and do the things we really love, without feeling the need to prove anything, without needing the armor of arrogance and to talk down people who are not like us...If we really accept ourselves, and are comfortable in our own skins, we won't need to. We need to say not only are dyslexic people extraordinary, and successful but they can be ordinary, like most dyslexic people really are, and that is just as good, and just as valid.
They don't need to be creative, God knows not all of us are...some of us are sporty instead, or into IT, or building things out of Lego, or we don't really know what our particular thing is. We aren't just distant celebrates, who might or might not actually be dyslexic if we really looked into it, especially in the case of the dead ones. Why do we need to ride on the coat tails of Einstein, for instance? Why can't we be plumbers, and tree surgeons, and postmen, and teachers, and shop assistants? It almost feels like failure now if you don't go out and do something extraordinary.
We don't need it to validate ourselves or make sense of our messed up childhoods, honest...let's just be human, ok? Let's be the brothers, mother's, father's, sisters, friends, and colleagues of non dyslexics, and let's shove less celebrates and extraordinary stories of dyslexic triumph at non dyslexic people...let's show them that is who we are...the people close to them, people they love, not just the ones who go down darker paths due to a lack of support as big eyed kids, not just movie stars and athletes. We are everywhere, and we suffer, and we thrive, and we live beside them through it.
I think we'd be happier, and I think people would care more if dyslexia wasn't something attached to someone outside the world people live in day to day. If it wasn't just those two extremes...the only narratives we can tell; failure and success...
I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I am adding my voice to the chorus, as someone who feels somewhere in between.
This is just me, how I feel, my experiences.
I really want you to go to Dyspla if you can, and I want you to be moved, and to question things, and to feel proud of yourself and that we have something like Dyspla, and of the people who have created if for us (I think Dyspla is striving towards sharing more voices, to give a fuller picture). I also want some of you to feel angry, and sad, and I want you to respond in some way to those feelings...because that's good, it opens things up, it creates that debate we so desperately need. It gets us moving towards improving things that bit faster. It helps us understand who we are.
And there is more I could say...but this is enough...for now, at least.
Please comment if you want to, tell me I am wrong if that's what you feel...but lets add more voices, let's talk about these things from more angles. And let's really make this movement of change happen, for all of us.
This is the blog for dysbooks.com, it is updated by our founder, Sarah.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Dyslexia Meet Up Group - and my continuing identity issues.
I've another activity to add to my ever expanding collection of dyslexia projects, I'm now helping out with a dyslexia meet up group based in London.
The meet up group is aimed at dyslexic professionals and entrepreneurs. It provides a mix of socialising, networking, free talks, and workshops (details here: http://www.meetup.com/Dyslexic-Entrepreneurs-and-Professionals/). A friend invited me to one of their sessions, and it sounded really interesting, so I said I'd come along. Then my friend asked if I'd help run part of the session, facilitating a group discussion about the sort of sessions members of the group would be interested in attending in future. I said I'd do this too.
Then I just had to worry about if I'd be any good at this or not, and if I'd be taken seriously.
I was pretty sure I could handle it, or I wouldn't have said yes, but there are always those voices of self doubt at the back of my mind, which come up with reasons why I can't, instead of why I can.
I know, that I am good at talking to people, at understanding them, and performing for them. I've always been good at this, and I have the awards, and grades, to prove this (at least to myself). But I am not used to being taken seriously, or respected, not right off the bat. I'm used to being judged, and under estimated. Of course, this is partly the dyslexia; there have been many people, especially teachers, who expected less of me because of it, directly, or indirectly. More than that, I'm used to being under estimated due to my age, and because I've looked younger than I am, and because of my nature. I'm polite, and I'm quite, most of the time. I watch and listen more than I speak in most settings. When I do talk, especially about the things I am most interested in, often people find it odd or struggle to keep up. I can be silly, and I'm a bit dreamy. I dress in a way that is slightly delicate, and pretty, and different.
I know, when people look at me they often see a girl in her late teens (instead of mid twenties), someone shy, with little life experience; someone with less knowledge, and skills, and strength, than them. Someone who needs looking after, instead of someone with things to offer. Someone fragile. It doesn't help that my dyslexia means I struggle with basic tasks, like finding my way around, and that sometimes, I really do need help, just to cope with things others take for granted.
I cannot remember ever feeling truly valued or recognized for who I am, and I don't know if I ever will. What I do remember is being treated as something amusing, but inferior, and as an easy target for abuse.
That sort of sums up most of my life up till now, a constant struggle against other people's perceptions of who I am, and who I can be.
I think one of the reasons I care so god damn much about helping other dyslexic people, is because, for me, school was a sort of psychological torment. For a couple of years I would hardly talk while at school, I wished I would just disappear, or would die, or that everyone else at school would. I hated myself, and everyone around me (I could only have been about eight years old), in my teens, I thought about killing myself. I've worked so hard to get over this, but I'm always going to be a bit screwed up because of it...and you know, I'm meant to be one of the lucky ones, who got picked up early, and got lots of support. My home life, was also far from perfect. My father is very domineering, and one of the things I am struggling with at the moment is finding out that the reason I always felt something was wrong at home, or missing, was because that too, was an abusive environment. I was always being put down, and I honestly thought that being threatened with violence for not eating my vegetables was normal, as was being talked about like chattel. It was just funny/annoying things my dad did...Now, I look back on it all, and it seems so sinister. My mother, while amazing in some ways, has also let me down a lot in others.
Yesterday, I re-read a load of old MSN conversation and emails between me and my bestfriend. I have no idea how I coped so well with the sort of things I was writing about. Not only did I cope, but I managed to stay surprisingly upbeat about it all.
And that is who I am. I am someone who copes with things, who over comes barriers, and who hangs onto the good things, even when most things are bad. Someone who has mostly had to do this on their own, and fought to get people to see they need help, and what that help has to be. If anything, I'm someone who steps in and helps other people, because I know how it feels to struggle, and need support.
I know who I am, and that is my greatest gift. I have always been able to weigh others opinions of me, and see the truth. I'm not just some cutesy, ditzy, girl, with big eyes. But someone with a lot of insight, and strength, and someone who is very, very bright... and that is part of why most people don't get me.
I ended up really enjoying going to the meet up group, and rather than feeling out of my depth, I felt in my element. If there is one thing I understand it is dyslexia, and how to deal with dyslexic difficulties. I didn't realise how much I knew until I was talking to all these different people about such a broad range of topics relating to it.
I really need to worry less about how people see me. If I trust myself, and act like the person I know I am, eventually people will see me for who I am, and will realise how much I do have to share.
Anyone else ever suffer from this sort of self doubt? How do you work through it?
The meet up group is aimed at dyslexic professionals and entrepreneurs. It provides a mix of socialising, networking, free talks, and workshops (details here: http://www.meetup.com/Dyslexic-Entrepreneurs-and-Professionals/). A friend invited me to one of their sessions, and it sounded really interesting, so I said I'd come along. Then my friend asked if I'd help run part of the session, facilitating a group discussion about the sort of sessions members of the group would be interested in attending in future. I said I'd do this too.
Then I just had to worry about if I'd be any good at this or not, and if I'd be taken seriously.
I was pretty sure I could handle it, or I wouldn't have said yes, but there are always those voices of self doubt at the back of my mind, which come up with reasons why I can't, instead of why I can.
I know, that I am good at talking to people, at understanding them, and performing for them. I've always been good at this, and I have the awards, and grades, to prove this (at least to myself). But I am not used to being taken seriously, or respected, not right off the bat. I'm used to being judged, and under estimated. Of course, this is partly the dyslexia; there have been many people, especially teachers, who expected less of me because of it, directly, or indirectly. More than that, I'm used to being under estimated due to my age, and because I've looked younger than I am, and because of my nature. I'm polite, and I'm quite, most of the time. I watch and listen more than I speak in most settings. When I do talk, especially about the things I am most interested in, often people find it odd or struggle to keep up. I can be silly, and I'm a bit dreamy. I dress in a way that is slightly delicate, and pretty, and different.
I know, when people look at me they often see a girl in her late teens (instead of mid twenties), someone shy, with little life experience; someone with less knowledge, and skills, and strength, than them. Someone who needs looking after, instead of someone with things to offer. Someone fragile. It doesn't help that my dyslexia means I struggle with basic tasks, like finding my way around, and that sometimes, I really do need help, just to cope with things others take for granted.
I cannot remember ever feeling truly valued or recognized for who I am, and I don't know if I ever will. What I do remember is being treated as something amusing, but inferior, and as an easy target for abuse.
That sort of sums up most of my life up till now, a constant struggle against other people's perceptions of who I am, and who I can be.
I think one of the reasons I care so god damn much about helping other dyslexic people, is because, for me, school was a sort of psychological torment. For a couple of years I would hardly talk while at school, I wished I would just disappear, or would die, or that everyone else at school would. I hated myself, and everyone around me (I could only have been about eight years old), in my teens, I thought about killing myself. I've worked so hard to get over this, but I'm always going to be a bit screwed up because of it...and you know, I'm meant to be one of the lucky ones, who got picked up early, and got lots of support. My home life, was also far from perfect. My father is very domineering, and one of the things I am struggling with at the moment is finding out that the reason I always felt something was wrong at home, or missing, was because that too, was an abusive environment. I was always being put down, and I honestly thought that being threatened with violence for not eating my vegetables was normal, as was being talked about like chattel. It was just funny/annoying things my dad did...Now, I look back on it all, and it seems so sinister. My mother, while amazing in some ways, has also let me down a lot in others.
Yesterday, I re-read a load of old MSN conversation and emails between me and my bestfriend. I have no idea how I coped so well with the sort of things I was writing about. Not only did I cope, but I managed to stay surprisingly upbeat about it all.
And that is who I am. I am someone who copes with things, who over comes barriers, and who hangs onto the good things, even when most things are bad. Someone who has mostly had to do this on their own, and fought to get people to see they need help, and what that help has to be. If anything, I'm someone who steps in and helps other people, because I know how it feels to struggle, and need support.
I know who I am, and that is my greatest gift. I have always been able to weigh others opinions of me, and see the truth. I'm not just some cutesy, ditzy, girl, with big eyes. But someone with a lot of insight, and strength, and someone who is very, very bright... and that is part of why most people don't get me.
I ended up really enjoying going to the meet up group, and rather than feeling out of my depth, I felt in my element. If there is one thing I understand it is dyslexia, and how to deal with dyslexic difficulties. I didn't realise how much I knew until I was talking to all these different people about such a broad range of topics relating to it.
I really need to worry less about how people see me. If I trust myself, and act like the person I know I am, eventually people will see me for who I am, and will realise how much I do have to share.
Anyone else ever suffer from this sort of self doubt? How do you work through it?
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Taking Risks
Life is full of uncertainty, and uncertainty can lead to fear.
I'm afraid of a lot of things, I hide it pretty well, but laying in bed at night I find certain thoughts creeping up on me, moving from the darkness of the room and into the darkness of my mind.
I've been through a very difficult year, and while I'm not in as bad a position as I could be, I'm trying to work out what the next year will be like, and the one after that, and so on. What I will be able to afford and what I won't, and whether these will be things that really matter or not.
I'm still trying to work out what I want to be when I grow up, and why I haven't become this yet.
I sort of know...
I want to be happy.
Happy? The trouble is, I need to know what happiness means to me, personally. I need to be able to afford a roof over my head, and food, while chasing after what ever these things are, these elusive things that lead to a happy life.
I feel like I'm chasing rabbits, white rabbits. Falling down rabbit holes.
I'm in a similar position to a lot of young people. I followed all the rules, went to university, and when I graduated I found the old rules I had followed didn't come with the sort of guarantees they once did. It was a lot more difficult to get a job, especially a graduate one. So I figured I'd find a job doing something like working in Bookshop for a year, as I had always wanted to do that, and save up for an MA, in something. Partly for prestige, partly to develop my skill set, and partly in the hopes the job market would be a bit better once I finished. So that was what I did.
Only, it's been three years, and I'm still there. I haven't been able to save anything up, either. I don't feel like I'm moving forward. I'm restless. This restlessness has lead to doing some fantastic things, being involved in a lot of great projects, particularly as far as dyslexia goes, but also a lot of soul searching. I've spent a lot of time just...trying to figure out who I am, how I really work. I've sort of spent my whole life doing that, but working part time there are less distractions.
I didn't find out who I really was until something awful happened, and I was tested in ways I never had been before. I lost my father. He's not dead, which makes it harder. If he were dead at least I'd still have my memories, untainted, I'd still believe he loved me, or my brother, or anyone other than himself. I'm no longer talking to any one on his side of the family, I can't see my young cousins, or god daughter. I lost my home, and all the stability I had ever known. I felt like I was losing my mother, too. I found myself being strong for the adults in my life, for people I had always seen as in control, as more capable, and realizing how fragile people truly are, how lost everyone really is. That I was actually an adult, and it was never going to get any easier. This was adulthood, feeling lost, and stumbling threw, doing your best to follow your heart and not to sell out on your dreams, at least when you knew what they were. So often people seemed to have given up on theirs, lost them completely, given the chance at something better away so they could be certain, so they felt safe, and it hadn't worked, anyway.
Pretty much every adult in my family had messed up their lives, through unhappy marriages, mostly. By doing what was expected in their personal lives and career instead of taking risks, or saying 'actually, I deserve better than this, I owe it to myself to try.' One of my friends died recently, she was just 22, my 14 year old cousin, dear to me as a little sister, nearly followed her. They hadn't taken any risks, done anything that might increase their chances of passing away, they just got sick.
Life can be short, and brutal, and unfair.
Dusting myself off, looking at the world afresh, really feeling this, instead of knowing it in an intellectual sort of way...I don't care anymore, not about anyone's expectations of me. Life is too short to live it in a way designed to get applause from people who don't really care who you are, don't like you.
So...I've decided to go to drama school, where I hope I'll get applauded for doing something I love. For taking the big risk I've always wanted to take, and believed a couldn't. The thing my parents warned me against when they were told how talented I was, at one point acting seemed the only thing I seemed good at, due in part to my dyslexia. One of the only things I've always been good at, never had to fight for.
I'm scared I'm not good enough. That I wan't get in, and people will know I have failed, I'm scared I'll get in, and won't be able to afford it.
But I am going to try anyway. I owe it to myself to try, and if I fail, I can try again, or I can try something new, and at least I will know I did my best for myself.
Life is too inherently unpredictable and capricious to follow the rules and to play it safe all the time, to follow rules and guidelines in the hope of a certain outcome, because everything is always changing. Things outside your control will throw you off course, and if that's gonna happen, you might as well be going after something that makes you feel lighter inside, and freer, so when you have to fight, the fight feels worth it...
Dyslexia does come into this. Because of it, I think I'm less scared of failing, I'm used to failure. I know it's not the end of everything. It's something you can learn from, grow from. I'm used to people looking down on me for all the things I'm not, instead of seeing me for all the things I am. But it's also made me wary. I don't like failing, I don't like to be bottom of the class. There are some things I don't want to feel ever again, like standing up and trying to recite my times tables, when I couldn't, and all the other children watched and judged, until I started to cry.
There is failure, and then there is humiliation.
It's more about attitude, than anything else. Attitude, and the forces outside your control, and trusting in yourself to be able to handle them, whatever they might throw your way. And if you can't? accepting that is ok, too, that whatever you do, you're enough. It's the people who can't see that who have the real problem, who will never be happy because they've never asked themselves 'what is happiness to me?' they think they already know, think that the same things make everyone happy, and so happiness will always be just out of reach...they will never be enough in their own hearts, no matter how perfect they try to seem on the outside.
It think it's alright to be scared. It means that I'm alive.
I'm afraid of a lot of things, I hide it pretty well, but laying in bed at night I find certain thoughts creeping up on me, moving from the darkness of the room and into the darkness of my mind.
I've been through a very difficult year, and while I'm not in as bad a position as I could be, I'm trying to work out what the next year will be like, and the one after that, and so on. What I will be able to afford and what I won't, and whether these will be things that really matter or not.
I'm still trying to work out what I want to be when I grow up, and why I haven't become this yet.
I sort of know...
I want to be happy.
Happy? The trouble is, I need to know what happiness means to me, personally. I need to be able to afford a roof over my head, and food, while chasing after what ever these things are, these elusive things that lead to a happy life.
I feel like I'm chasing rabbits, white rabbits. Falling down rabbit holes.
I'm in a similar position to a lot of young people. I followed all the rules, went to university, and when I graduated I found the old rules I had followed didn't come with the sort of guarantees they once did. It was a lot more difficult to get a job, especially a graduate one. So I figured I'd find a job doing something like working in Bookshop for a year, as I had always wanted to do that, and save up for an MA, in something. Partly for prestige, partly to develop my skill set, and partly in the hopes the job market would be a bit better once I finished. So that was what I did.
Only, it's been three years, and I'm still there. I haven't been able to save anything up, either. I don't feel like I'm moving forward. I'm restless. This restlessness has lead to doing some fantastic things, being involved in a lot of great projects, particularly as far as dyslexia goes, but also a lot of soul searching. I've spent a lot of time just...trying to figure out who I am, how I really work. I've sort of spent my whole life doing that, but working part time there are less distractions.
I didn't find out who I really was until something awful happened, and I was tested in ways I never had been before. I lost my father. He's not dead, which makes it harder. If he were dead at least I'd still have my memories, untainted, I'd still believe he loved me, or my brother, or anyone other than himself. I'm no longer talking to any one on his side of the family, I can't see my young cousins, or god daughter. I lost my home, and all the stability I had ever known. I felt like I was losing my mother, too. I found myself being strong for the adults in my life, for people I had always seen as in control, as more capable, and realizing how fragile people truly are, how lost everyone really is. That I was actually an adult, and it was never going to get any easier. This was adulthood, feeling lost, and stumbling threw, doing your best to follow your heart and not to sell out on your dreams, at least when you knew what they were. So often people seemed to have given up on theirs, lost them completely, given the chance at something better away so they could be certain, so they felt safe, and it hadn't worked, anyway.
Pretty much every adult in my family had messed up their lives, through unhappy marriages, mostly. By doing what was expected in their personal lives and career instead of taking risks, or saying 'actually, I deserve better than this, I owe it to myself to try.' One of my friends died recently, she was just 22, my 14 year old cousin, dear to me as a little sister, nearly followed her. They hadn't taken any risks, done anything that might increase their chances of passing away, they just got sick.
Life can be short, and brutal, and unfair.
Dusting myself off, looking at the world afresh, really feeling this, instead of knowing it in an intellectual sort of way...I don't care anymore, not about anyone's expectations of me. Life is too short to live it in a way designed to get applause from people who don't really care who you are, don't like you.
So...I've decided to go to drama school, where I hope I'll get applauded for doing something I love. For taking the big risk I've always wanted to take, and believed a couldn't. The thing my parents warned me against when they were told how talented I was, at one point acting seemed the only thing I seemed good at, due in part to my dyslexia. One of the only things I've always been good at, never had to fight for.
I'm scared I'm not good enough. That I wan't get in, and people will know I have failed, I'm scared I'll get in, and won't be able to afford it.
But I am going to try anyway. I owe it to myself to try, and if I fail, I can try again, or I can try something new, and at least I will know I did my best for myself.
Life is too inherently unpredictable and capricious to follow the rules and to play it safe all the time, to follow rules and guidelines in the hope of a certain outcome, because everything is always changing. Things outside your control will throw you off course, and if that's gonna happen, you might as well be going after something that makes you feel lighter inside, and freer, so when you have to fight, the fight feels worth it...
Dyslexia does come into this. Because of it, I think I'm less scared of failing, I'm used to failure. I know it's not the end of everything. It's something you can learn from, grow from. I'm used to people looking down on me for all the things I'm not, instead of seeing me for all the things I am. But it's also made me wary. I don't like failing, I don't like to be bottom of the class. There are some things I don't want to feel ever again, like standing up and trying to recite my times tables, when I couldn't, and all the other children watched and judged, until I started to cry.
There is failure, and then there is humiliation.
It's more about attitude, than anything else. Attitude, and the forces outside your control, and trusting in yourself to be able to handle them, whatever they might throw your way. And if you can't? accepting that is ok, too, that whatever you do, you're enough. It's the people who can't see that who have the real problem, who will never be happy because they've never asked themselves 'what is happiness to me?' they think they already know, think that the same things make everyone happy, and so happiness will always be just out of reach...they will never be enough in their own hearts, no matter how perfect they try to seem on the outside.
It think it's alright to be scared. It means that I'm alive.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Grammar, Punctuation, Spelling...
Earlier this week year 6 students across England took a new Sats exam to test their spelling, punctuation and
grammar. I have mixed feeling about this as I know I would have struggled with such an exam at that age, and suspect I would struggle with a similar exam now. Yet, I do love the English language. I found my difficulties in mastering it lead to a fascination with how it worked.
This was not always the case, I certainly found it hugely annoying at points during my childhood. I remember a teaching assistant trying to help me learn my weekly spelling list, and out of frustration throwing a dictionary onto the floor. I told her English was a stupid language that didn't make any sense, and that all her spelling rules were lies.
She admitted English probably was very silly, and told me I had to learn to read and write using it anyway. I was so angry, I thought that there was obviously a lack of logic to the language, and didn't understand why someone had not fixed English a long time ago.
It wasn't that I didn't want to learn to read or write, far from it. When I was very young I decided that I was going to be like Beatrix Potter when I grew up. I'd write books for children which I'd also illustrate, and I'd live in a cottage in the Lake District. I would have a four poster bed like the one from The Tale of Tom Kitten, and a herb garden like the one in The Tale Jemima Puddle-Duck. I'd set my mum up in a cottage next door so she could pop round for tea and cake, and my dad could live in the shed.
I wasn't interested in what would happen to my brother. I assumed he'd have better things to do than hang about with me, and that he wouldn't be interested in caring for (or abusing) our elderly parents.
But that was what I wanted, to be a writer, and I couldn't do that if I couldn't write. I had to understand the words on the page rather than just seeing incomprehensible squiggles.
Fortunately, my grandmother decided that my frustration wasn't pure disobedience, that it was instead born from a desire to learn. So she decided to teach me, and to explain why some words were not spelt how they sounded, where various words came from, and how some words meanings had changed over time.
I slowly realized that language was not just a tool. Behind every word, whether it was in or out of common usage, there was a history. I liked history because it was an endless collection of overlapping stories and experiences, and it delighted me that when I used words to tell a story of my own that I was invoking those other, older stories, ones that had no authors.
When I was eight, and could finally read by myself, some of the first books I wanted to read where adaptions of works by Chaucer and Shakespeare. My mother was not so sure about this, but decided that I'd quickly loose interest once I saw how they were written. She got The Canterbury Tales from our local library, and was rather concerned to find I mostly understood what was going on, thanks in part to a BBC series retelling the stories with puppets (the adults in my house reasoned, inexplicably, that anything involving cartoons or puppets was suitable for children). I started asking what two of the characters where doing in a pear tree together, and my mother decided at this point it was time for me to go to bed.
The Canterbury Tales disappeared, and was added to The List of Books Not To Be Read Until Adulthood, joining the ranks of my mum's Stephen King novels. I eventually studied 'The Merchants Tale' as part of my A Levels, but the only book by Stephen King I have ever read is still On Writing.
Taking all this into account it's not that surprising that I turned out to be really good at analyzing texts, or that I went on to study English at university. What is surprising is that I managed to do this while still struggling with my spelling, and without understanding how to use basic punctuation or grammar. I had no idea what a noun was, or an adjective, and thought you just used commas every time you took a breath when reading aloud something you'd written.
This was not always the case, I certainly found it hugely annoying at points during my childhood. I remember a teaching assistant trying to help me learn my weekly spelling list, and out of frustration throwing a dictionary onto the floor. I told her English was a stupid language that didn't make any sense, and that all her spelling rules were lies.
She admitted English probably was very silly, and told me I had to learn to read and write using it anyway. I was so angry, I thought that there was obviously a lack of logic to the language, and didn't understand why someone had not fixed English a long time ago.
It wasn't that I didn't want to learn to read or write, far from it. When I was very young I decided that I was going to be like Beatrix Potter when I grew up. I'd write books for children which I'd also illustrate, and I'd live in a cottage in the Lake District. I would have a four poster bed like the one from The Tale of Tom Kitten, and a herb garden like the one in The Tale Jemima Puddle-Duck. I'd set my mum up in a cottage next door so she could pop round for tea and cake, and my dad could live in the shed.
I wasn't interested in what would happen to my brother. I assumed he'd have better things to do than hang about with me, and that he wouldn't be interested in caring for (or abusing) our elderly parents.
But that was what I wanted, to be a writer, and I couldn't do that if I couldn't write. I had to understand the words on the page rather than just seeing incomprehensible squiggles.
Fortunately, my grandmother decided that my frustration wasn't pure disobedience, that it was instead born from a desire to learn. So she decided to teach me, and to explain why some words were not spelt how they sounded, where various words came from, and how some words meanings had changed over time.
I slowly realized that language was not just a tool. Behind every word, whether it was in or out of common usage, there was a history. I liked history because it was an endless collection of overlapping stories and experiences, and it delighted me that when I used words to tell a story of my own that I was invoking those other, older stories, ones that had no authors.
When I was eight, and could finally read by myself, some of the first books I wanted to read where adaptions of works by Chaucer and Shakespeare. My mother was not so sure about this, but decided that I'd quickly loose interest once I saw how they were written. She got The Canterbury Tales from our local library, and was rather concerned to find I mostly understood what was going on, thanks in part to a BBC series retelling the stories with puppets (the adults in my house reasoned, inexplicably, that anything involving cartoons or puppets was suitable for children). I started asking what two of the characters where doing in a pear tree together, and my mother decided at this point it was time for me to go to bed.
The Canterbury Tales disappeared, and was added to The List of Books Not To Be Read Until Adulthood, joining the ranks of my mum's Stephen King novels. I eventually studied 'The Merchants Tale' as part of my A Levels, but the only book by Stephen King I have ever read is still On Writing.
Taking all this into account it's not that surprising that I turned out to be really good at analyzing texts, or that I went on to study English at university. What is surprising is that I managed to do this while still struggling with my spelling, and without understanding how to use basic punctuation or grammar. I had no idea what a noun was, or an adjective, and thought you just used commas every time you took a breath when reading aloud something you'd written.
If I had a choice I would have written using perfect grammar, accept when choosing not to for affect. I wanted to learn how to write well. I think all children should have the right to learn how to read and write in a way that means they understand, and can be understood. I simply fear testing children on these skills will give dyslexic children one more thing to fail at, and will do little to make any child love literature.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Dyslexic Writer's Workshop
I've not updated the blog in a while, but not because I haven't been busy. Actually I have been out in the world having all sorts of adventures, and reading all sorts of books. I have a great deal to tell you about it, and in time I am going to catch you up. But this blog post is about my latest adventure.
Today I decorated cupcakes while wearing plastic gloves, to fully comply with health and safety regulations. It was for a children's event themed around a popular children's book, and the weather was mostly nice, so I only had a few children turn up; which was just as well considering the mess I had envisioned being created with the chocolate icing. This came in a tube similar to ones used for whipped cream. I'd imagined myself surrounded by tiny, chocolaty hands, sprinkles and chocolate drops being scattered like confetti (there is a reason I removed the pots of glitter from the children's event art supply box). Instead it was all rather civilized. The children listened with polite interest to my reading of extracts from the book, and only person who made any sort of mess was me.
This gave me a lot of time to think, especially while I wrote out a warning about nuts, and a list of all the ingredients in the cupcakes, onto a big pieces of pink and yellow card.
What I thought about, besides my worry that my cat was going to put a worm in my bed again, was a workshop I had attended the day before. It was for writer's with dyslexia, or dyslexic writers, depending on how you like to phrase these things. I say I am dyslexic, and that I have dyslexia, without caring too much about whether it implies I have a illness or that I am part of some sort of alien race, or if anyone is going to think it actually means I'm a bit thick, but I know these things matter to other people with/who are dyslexic, especially the last part.
One of the things that came up at the workshop was the way we talk about ourselves, dyslexic people I mean. The word 'they' was used a lot, despite the only people in the room being dyslexic people. I guess we are all just so used to being out numbered by non dyslexics, and so keen not to exclude ourselves from those around us, that we have become used to talking about dyslexics as a whole as some Other thing, some Other group, that we are both a part of and separate from (Nim from RASP touches on this in her blog). I can't imagine using 'we' in a conversation about dyslexics with a non dyslexic, for instance, because it would push us away from each other, and I wouldn't want that, I'd want to pull us closer, to help us to understand one another. But I would like to use 'we' in the context of dyslexia as freely and easily as I slip between being and having dyslexia, not just in my own head, but when I write or talk about myself.
Someone also asked me about my job. I think being a Bookseller is one of the best jobs for an aspiring writer, and I enjoy it in it's own right. I'm surrounded by books everyday, nice people, and I get to eat left over chocolate drops and vanilla cupcakes late at night, while sipping chamomile tea, and typing away at things like this blog post.
What they asked, though, was how much of my job I did; if I just stacked shelves or if I did all the things Booksellers normally do, like working the till and giving book recommendations, which really surprised me. I do all those things, and I seem to do them pretty well, and I feel like I really fit the mold for my profession, rather than feeling like a misshapen or creatively shaped pastry; which is the way I used to feel about most things, being dyslexic and such. I used to fear till work, too, and work generally, because I didn't feel like I was made for certain tasks, but I forced myself to do the things I was bad at, until somehow, I wasn't so bad at them anymore.
I normally sneer a bit at molds, at fitting in, though I don't try to stand out either, that just ends with slipping into another container. I just try to be me, as much myself as I possibly can be, whoever that is. But...actually, secretly... it's... rather nice...you know, to fit in. Not to confuse people, feeling comfortable, and not having to tone some things down and other things up to avoid judgment and rejection. I could tell you, and myself, that I don't care about those things, but it's never going to be true. I just know that judgment and rejection born out of ignorance or snobbery don't matter, that they should slide right of me, and the more I tell myself this the less it gets to me, but the the yearning to just BE, without censure, will never entirely go away.
This was one of the reasons I enjoyed the workshop so much. I found myself looking at a giant Post It (TM), tasked with writing words I had come up with based off some tarot style cards in whatever colors I wanted (well, whatever ones where in the old Candbury tin I had boldly stolen from the center of the room, and awkwardly tried to pass round). A lot of words I had come up with were ones I couldn't be certain I could spell correctly, and normally I'd have tried to wiggle out of it, or put on a variation of my I Don't Care What You Lot Think face (it's friendlier than the one you are imagining, honest), in the hope if I acted that way long enough eventually I wouldn't.
But this time I didn't have to worry, I could just write...and I found myself wondering if that was what it felt like to be, well, normal. To just be able to do stuff like that, without needing some sort of plan, or to put on some ego padding. It was nice to feel normal, and I never thought I would admit that. If anyone ever suggested I might I'd have told them I was too proud, and too defensive for that, or I'd have at least thought this, and said something about how great it is to be different.
It is great to be different, but it's lonely, too. Isolating, and it requires a lot of energy to keep yourself upbeat about it all the time. I have my low moments, where I need to talk myself up, tell myself I can do, will do, everything, nothing...I talk over the other voices, ones from my past, that whisper, whisper, that I can't, won't... she'd be great on children say the funniest things, but in the rest of life? Laughter, always laughter, but I'll show them all, and I won't rub it in or anything like that. I'll know that I have won, and that will be enough...it will have to be, because I don't want to be someone who takes joy in causing upset, and I don't want to always go looking for validation in other people, especially those who are not worth the oxygen.
The thing is, though, as much as I big myself up and tell myself how special I am, part of me doesn't really buy it. I'm optimistic but cynical, which I suppose makes me a realist, only that sounds incredibly arrogant, so I settle for describing myself confused, and more selectively self deceptive than most.
I'm warry of my deceptions, and I want to keep them in check, so I don't go too far one way or another. This means when I genuinely have achieved something I feel a bit weird about it. I sometimes feel like I am conning people into thinking I'm bright or have interesting things to say, so when I get concrete proof to show that I am not totally useless it's a bit of a surprise. I don't know what to do with it, other than to cling to it, and to share it so other people know that I'm not lieing, that I am not the sum of my faults and nothing else.
There were so many moments during that workshop were I wanted to say 'me too, me too, I get it!' There were two moments in particular, and these were related to my worries about myself and who I might be, or might have been The first was when listening to someone talk about dyslexic prisoners. I once met two dyslexic young men, one the same age as me, who spent the period I was at university in prison. He told me that was how he met his dyslexic friend, and where he finally learnt to read.
No one, should have to learn to read in prison, and that chance meeting is something I don't intend to let go of. I've wanted to make things a bit better for other dyslexic people ever since I found out I was dyslexic at the age of six, and I read the prison statistics regarding dyslexia in my teens, but that...those young men on the train, who were like me, and not like me...there was this weird sort of connection, where I and the older man looked at each other, and I felt certain we were both thinking that we could easily have been that other person. When they got off the train and I met the older man's eyes, and the moment as we both looked into each other as the train pulled off...that mattered a lot more than some numbers printed off the internet.
This meeting is part of the reason I care so much about doing something that positively impacts the lives of dyslexic people, and other's who don't get enough support or encouragement to be fully literate.
The other thing, was to do with difficulties driving. It took me a long time to pass my test, and I don't enjoy driving. I'd ended up on the BDA website reading about why this was so hard for me, just like someone else there had, and trying to work out why it upset me so much...gradually realized it was because it's was another reminder I was different, that I had some things a lot harder than other people (though not anywhere near as hard as I could have), and I couldn't hide that I was struggling. I'd actually felt like giving the whole thing up not long before the workshop, just tossing the car keys at my partner, and saying I was done, that it was his car, and he could drive me about in it. I'd even thought about offering to buy him a flat cap, and making a proper joke of him chauffeuring me around.
In general the workshop made me feel more confident, and got me to believe in myself that little bit more. I drove to work today, and enjoyed it. It was because knew it wasn't just me, that I wasn't just hopeless, and I got to feel that it I'd done well to pass, especially considering all the trouble I had in the beginning. I see my dream of being a full timed, published author, as something more realistic. How could I not when I could sit in a room like that and see I was not alone in my dreaming?
It was great to meet dyslexic people who were already published, too, and to overhear conversations between dyslexic people where they were recommending books to each other. I found myself discussing my dyslexic heroswith other dyslexic people, something I'd never done before, and it was brilliant.
This sort of thing is exactly why I stared Dysbooks. I really believed that it wasn't just me, that conversations and exchanges like this between dyslexic people were, are, important.
I believe in the importance creativity, too, and it was wonderful to have that feature in the workshop so prominenly. Creativity wasn't ever approached during my degree course, despite it being an integral part of Creative Writing. It was something a bit dirty that you presumably did on your own. Sadly, it didn't feel my course always addressed the writing side very well, either, but I'll never regret my degree course. There were parts that helped me a great deal, it got me writing regularly, and my writing has dramatically improved since.
The cat did bring a worm into the house, but she left it in the kitchen, where the last of the cupcakes are. I should be asleep so I can do gardening in the morning, before work, so I shall go and collapse in my worm-free bed, and dream about the castle I will buy when I am a bestselling novelist...(if only writing actually paid that well).
You can find out more about the Roehampton Dyslexic Writer's Workshops here: http://roehampton.ac.uk/Creativity-and-dyslexia-research-project/
The next two workshops will be held this coming Wednesday 15th May from 5.30pm-7.00pm, and on Wednesday 22nd May 5.30pm-7.00pm. Unfortunately I cannot attend, but highly recommend going along.
Today I decorated cupcakes while wearing plastic gloves, to fully comply with health and safety regulations. It was for a children's event themed around a popular children's book, and the weather was mostly nice, so I only had a few children turn up; which was just as well considering the mess I had envisioned being created with the chocolate icing. This came in a tube similar to ones used for whipped cream. I'd imagined myself surrounded by tiny, chocolaty hands, sprinkles and chocolate drops being scattered like confetti (there is a reason I removed the pots of glitter from the children's event art supply box). Instead it was all rather civilized. The children listened with polite interest to my reading of extracts from the book, and only person who made any sort of mess was me.
This gave me a lot of time to think, especially while I wrote out a warning about nuts, and a list of all the ingredients in the cupcakes, onto a big pieces of pink and yellow card.
What I thought about, besides my worry that my cat was going to put a worm in my bed again, was a workshop I had attended the day before. It was for writer's with dyslexia, or dyslexic writers, depending on how you like to phrase these things. I say I am dyslexic, and that I have dyslexia, without caring too much about whether it implies I have a illness or that I am part of some sort of alien race, or if anyone is going to think it actually means I'm a bit thick, but I know these things matter to other people with/who are dyslexic, especially the last part.
One of the things that came up at the workshop was the way we talk about ourselves, dyslexic people I mean. The word 'they' was used a lot, despite the only people in the room being dyslexic people. I guess we are all just so used to being out numbered by non dyslexics, and so keen not to exclude ourselves from those around us, that we have become used to talking about dyslexics as a whole as some Other thing, some Other group, that we are both a part of and separate from (Nim from RASP touches on this in her blog). I can't imagine using 'we' in a conversation about dyslexics with a non dyslexic, for instance, because it would push us away from each other, and I wouldn't want that, I'd want to pull us closer, to help us to understand one another. But I would like to use 'we' in the context of dyslexia as freely and easily as I slip between being and having dyslexia, not just in my own head, but when I write or talk about myself.
What they asked, though, was how much of my job I did; if I just stacked shelves or if I did all the things Booksellers normally do, like working the till and giving book recommendations, which really surprised me. I do all those things, and I seem to do them pretty well, and I feel like I really fit the mold for my profession, rather than feeling like a misshapen or creatively shaped pastry; which is the way I used to feel about most things, being dyslexic and such. I used to fear till work, too, and work generally, because I didn't feel like I was made for certain tasks, but I forced myself to do the things I was bad at, until somehow, I wasn't so bad at them anymore.
I normally sneer a bit at molds, at fitting in, though I don't try to stand out either, that just ends with slipping into another container. I just try to be me, as much myself as I possibly can be, whoever that is. But...actually, secretly... it's... rather nice...you know, to fit in. Not to confuse people, feeling comfortable, and not having to tone some things down and other things up to avoid judgment and rejection. I could tell you, and myself, that I don't care about those things, but it's never going to be true. I just know that judgment and rejection born out of ignorance or snobbery don't matter, that they should slide right of me, and the more I tell myself this the less it gets to me, but the the yearning to just BE, without censure, will never entirely go away.
This was one of the reasons I enjoyed the workshop so much. I found myself looking at a giant Post It (TM), tasked with writing words I had come up with based off some tarot style cards in whatever colors I wanted (well, whatever ones where in the old Candbury tin I had boldly stolen from the center of the room, and awkwardly tried to pass round). A lot of words I had come up with were ones I couldn't be certain I could spell correctly, and normally I'd have tried to wiggle out of it, or put on a variation of my I Don't Care What You Lot Think face (it's friendlier than the one you are imagining, honest), in the hope if I acted that way long enough eventually I wouldn't.
But this time I didn't have to worry, I could just write...and I found myself wondering if that was what it felt like to be, well, normal. To just be able to do stuff like that, without needing some sort of plan, or to put on some ego padding. It was nice to feel normal, and I never thought I would admit that. If anyone ever suggested I might I'd have told them I was too proud, and too defensive for that, or I'd have at least thought this, and said something about how great it is to be different.
It is great to be different, but it's lonely, too. Isolating, and it requires a lot of energy to keep yourself upbeat about it all the time. I have my low moments, where I need to talk myself up, tell myself I can do, will do, everything, nothing...I talk over the other voices, ones from my past, that whisper, whisper, that I can't, won't... she'd be great on children say the funniest things, but in the rest of life? Laughter, always laughter, but I'll show them all, and I won't rub it in or anything like that. I'll know that I have won, and that will be enough...it will have to be, because I don't want to be someone who takes joy in causing upset, and I don't want to always go looking for validation in other people, especially those who are not worth the oxygen.
The thing is, though, as much as I big myself up and tell myself how special I am, part of me doesn't really buy it. I'm optimistic but cynical, which I suppose makes me a realist, only that sounds incredibly arrogant, so I settle for describing myself confused, and more selectively self deceptive than most.
I'm warry of my deceptions, and I want to keep them in check, so I don't go too far one way or another. This means when I genuinely have achieved something I feel a bit weird about it. I sometimes feel like I am conning people into thinking I'm bright or have interesting things to say, so when I get concrete proof to show that I am not totally useless it's a bit of a surprise. I don't know what to do with it, other than to cling to it, and to share it so other people know that I'm not lieing, that I am not the sum of my faults and nothing else.
There were so many moments during that workshop were I wanted to say 'me too, me too, I get it!' There were two moments in particular, and these were related to my worries about myself and who I might be, or might have been The first was when listening to someone talk about dyslexic prisoners. I once met two dyslexic young men, one the same age as me, who spent the period I was at university in prison. He told me that was how he met his dyslexic friend, and where he finally learnt to read.
No one, should have to learn to read in prison, and that chance meeting is something I don't intend to let go of. I've wanted to make things a bit better for other dyslexic people ever since I found out I was dyslexic at the age of six, and I read the prison statistics regarding dyslexia in my teens, but that...those young men on the train, who were like me, and not like me...there was this weird sort of connection, where I and the older man looked at each other, and I felt certain we were both thinking that we could easily have been that other person. When they got off the train and I met the older man's eyes, and the moment as we both looked into each other as the train pulled off...that mattered a lot more than some numbers printed off the internet.
This meeting is part of the reason I care so much about doing something that positively impacts the lives of dyslexic people, and other's who don't get enough support or encouragement to be fully literate.
The other thing, was to do with difficulties driving. It took me a long time to pass my test, and I don't enjoy driving. I'd ended up on the BDA website reading about why this was so hard for me, just like someone else there had, and trying to work out why it upset me so much...gradually realized it was because it's was another reminder I was different, that I had some things a lot harder than other people (though not anywhere near as hard as I could have), and I couldn't hide that I was struggling. I'd actually felt like giving the whole thing up not long before the workshop, just tossing the car keys at my partner, and saying I was done, that it was his car, and he could drive me about in it. I'd even thought about offering to buy him a flat cap, and making a proper joke of him chauffeuring me around.
In general the workshop made me feel more confident, and got me to believe in myself that little bit more. I drove to work today, and enjoyed it. It was because knew it wasn't just me, that I wasn't just hopeless, and I got to feel that it I'd done well to pass, especially considering all the trouble I had in the beginning. I see my dream of being a full timed, published author, as something more realistic. How could I not when I could sit in a room like that and see I was not alone in my dreaming?
It was great to meet dyslexic people who were already published, too, and to overhear conversations between dyslexic people where they were recommending books to each other. I found myself discussing my dyslexic heroswith other dyslexic people, something I'd never done before, and it was brilliant.
This sort of thing is exactly why I stared Dysbooks. I really believed that it wasn't just me, that conversations and exchanges like this between dyslexic people were, are, important.
I believe in the importance creativity, too, and it was wonderful to have that feature in the workshop so prominenly. Creativity wasn't ever approached during my degree course, despite it being an integral part of Creative Writing. It was something a bit dirty that you presumably did on your own. Sadly, it didn't feel my course always addressed the writing side very well, either, but I'll never regret my degree course. There were parts that helped me a great deal, it got me writing regularly, and my writing has dramatically improved since.
 |
| This is my cat Peach. I'm glad she doesn't kill birds, but it worries me she keeps eating worms and bees, and that if a bee flies behind her she has no idea where it has gone. |
The cat did bring a worm into the house, but she left it in the kitchen, where the last of the cupcakes are. I should be asleep so I can do gardening in the morning, before work, so I shall go and collapse in my worm-free bed, and dream about the castle I will buy when I am a bestselling novelist...(if only writing actually paid that well).
You can find out more about the Roehampton Dyslexic Writer's Workshops here: http://roehampton.ac.uk/Creativity-and-dyslexia-research-project/
The next two workshops will be held this coming Wednesday 15th May from 5.30pm-7.00pm, and on Wednesday 22nd May 5.30pm-7.00pm. Unfortunately I cannot attend, but highly recommend going along.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Dyslexia and Mums
It's not easy being a mum, but when your child is struggling at school it is even more difficult. Mums often take the brunt of the emotional issues this can cause for their children, and the worry about their future. That isn't to say that dads aren't important too, and there are many dads who take a very active roles in their children's school lives, but today is Mother's Day, so I'm going to be focusing on mums.
My mum was the driving force behind my academic successes. Without her and my maternal grandmother, I honestly do not know where I would be now. Today I read The King of Space and The Mummy Shop to a group of young children at the bookshop where I work when not focusing on my writing, or on trying to help people who have learning differences, and those who support them. I helped the children draw Mumbots, like those in one of the books, and helped them write down the best things about their mums underneath their pictures. I got to tell a mother and her dyslexic daughter that I am dyslexic, and I have a degree in English and Creative Writing, and where they could go to get help with testing for colored lenses. I can't express how much I love doing all these things, and to be unable to is almost unthinkable, yet there was a time when none of this seemed possible. My mother was told I would struggle with Secondary School, University wasn't even contemplated, and no one had any idea what sort of job I could do.
I remember the surprise and joy when I got my AS results in Six Form. My mum said that was when she realised that I could actually go to University, that all the effort and tears had been worth it. I felt rather affronted, as I never doubted I would go. My mum had always told me to just do my best, and she would sort everything else out with whatever school I was at, and I knew my best was better than most people expected, especially my teachers. I remember my mum crying when I got my GCSE results, because I got two As for English, and my grandmother who had taken me to my dyslexia tuition twice a week, and retrained as a special needs teacher to support me and my dyslexic cousin, had passed away just before my exams.
I remember my mum pulling me out from under the bed so I would go to school, all the nights she stayed up late writing letters, and acting as a scribe for me so I could complete my school projects by the same deadlines as everyone else. I remember her driving to my school in her lunch break in the response to a panicked phone call saying I had forgotten my PE kit, AGAIN, and might get detention this time...
It didn't sink in until I graduated how much my mother and grandmother had done for me. It's not that I wasn't grateful when they were supporting me through school, it's just that moment really brought it home. Yes, I had earned my degree through my hard work and dedication, but there had been a team of people behind me, ready to catch me when I tripped, to fight my corner when it needed fighting, and who gave me the strength to fight for myself. I almost felt like I needed to give a speech, as though I was accepting an Oscar, it just felt right that I should be thanking all the people who helped me get to that point, my voice breaking with emotion as I finally turned towards my mother, a knowing smile on my face...saying more than words ever could about what she'd been through. We had to settle for a hug afterwards.
I want my gift to mothers this Mother's Day to be the knowledge things do get better. There can be some very hard times when trying to support your dyslexic child, it can be a shock that more is not automatically done for children who learn differently, and there can be the fear for your child's future battling with reassurances from your child's teacher that 'sometimes children just take a bit longer to catch up' or the fear of being a pushy parent. If this is you, remember, you know your child better than anyone. Listen to your gut feeling, and don't be afraid to look for support, there is lots of it out there, you just need to look in the right places, and ask the right questions.
Here are some resources for mums who want to help their dyslexic children:
www.beingdyslexic.co.uk - a great place to get support from other parents, professionals, and adult dyslexics. I post here regularly as BubblewrapPrincess.
www.dysbooks.com/Pages/LearningDifficultiesReadingList.aspx - some of the books I recommend to parents of dyslexics, or those wondering if their child has a learning difference. The survival guide is especially helpful.
www.dysbooks.com/Pages/ChildrensBooks.aspx - a guide I have written on finding books suitable for dyslexic readers, with links to great resources to help find books dyslexic children can both read and enjoy.
www.totko.org - an organisation I volunteer with. We go into schools and give workshops to parents, teachers, and students, about a wide range of learning differences, and how to help students with them. If you want us to come to your child's school drop us an email to info@totkomail.org and we will see what we can do.
If you are a mum who needs a bit of help with something in particular, please get in touch. I'll do my best to help you, or to put you in touch with someone who can. You can leave me a comment here, or send an email to sarah@dysbooks.co.uk, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.
(I love you mum, you always said you hoped one day I'd give something back, well, I'm just getting started...happy Mothers Day).
My mum was the driving force behind my academic successes. Without her and my maternal grandmother, I honestly do not know where I would be now. Today I read The King of Space and The Mummy Shop to a group of young children at the bookshop where I work when not focusing on my writing, or on trying to help people who have learning differences, and those who support them. I helped the children draw Mumbots, like those in one of the books, and helped them write down the best things about their mums underneath their pictures. I got to tell a mother and her dyslexic daughter that I am dyslexic, and I have a degree in English and Creative Writing, and where they could go to get help with testing for colored lenses. I can't express how much I love doing all these things, and to be unable to is almost unthinkable, yet there was a time when none of this seemed possible. My mother was told I would struggle with Secondary School, University wasn't even contemplated, and no one had any idea what sort of job I could do.
 |
| Me and my mum, just look at those battle weary eyes. Bringing me up was not easy, and not just because of my dyslexia! (shhh...mum, you look fine, not sure about my hair, though). |
I remember the surprise and joy when I got my AS results in Six Form. My mum said that was when she realised that I could actually go to University, that all the effort and tears had been worth it. I felt rather affronted, as I never doubted I would go. My mum had always told me to just do my best, and she would sort everything else out with whatever school I was at, and I knew my best was better than most people expected, especially my teachers. I remember my mum crying when I got my GCSE results, because I got two As for English, and my grandmother who had taken me to my dyslexia tuition twice a week, and retrained as a special needs teacher to support me and my dyslexic cousin, had passed away just before my exams.
I remember my mum pulling me out from under the bed so I would go to school, all the nights she stayed up late writing letters, and acting as a scribe for me so I could complete my school projects by the same deadlines as everyone else. I remember her driving to my school in her lunch break in the response to a panicked phone call saying I had forgotten my PE kit, AGAIN, and might get detention this time...
It didn't sink in until I graduated how much my mother and grandmother had done for me. It's not that I wasn't grateful when they were supporting me through school, it's just that moment really brought it home. Yes, I had earned my degree through my hard work and dedication, but there had been a team of people behind me, ready to catch me when I tripped, to fight my corner when it needed fighting, and who gave me the strength to fight for myself. I almost felt like I needed to give a speech, as though I was accepting an Oscar, it just felt right that I should be thanking all the people who helped me get to that point, my voice breaking with emotion as I finally turned towards my mother, a knowing smile on my face...saying more than words ever could about what she'd been through. We had to settle for a hug afterwards.
I want my gift to mothers this Mother's Day to be the knowledge things do get better. There can be some very hard times when trying to support your dyslexic child, it can be a shock that more is not automatically done for children who learn differently, and there can be the fear for your child's future battling with reassurances from your child's teacher that 'sometimes children just take a bit longer to catch up' or the fear of being a pushy parent. If this is you, remember, you know your child better than anyone. Listen to your gut feeling, and don't be afraid to look for support, there is lots of it out there, you just need to look in the right places, and ask the right questions.
Here are some resources for mums who want to help their dyslexic children:
www.beingdyslexic.co.uk - a great place to get support from other parents, professionals, and adult dyslexics. I post here regularly as BubblewrapPrincess.
www.dysbooks.com/Pages/LearningDifficultiesReadingList.aspx - some of the books I recommend to parents of dyslexics, or those wondering if their child has a learning difference. The survival guide is especially helpful.
www.dysbooks.com/Pages/ChildrensBooks.aspx - a guide I have written on finding books suitable for dyslexic readers, with links to great resources to help find books dyslexic children can both read and enjoy.
www.totko.org - an organisation I volunteer with. We go into schools and give workshops to parents, teachers, and students, about a wide range of learning differences, and how to help students with them. If you want us to come to your child's school drop us an email to info@totkomail.org and we will see what we can do.
If you are a mum who needs a bit of help with something in particular, please get in touch. I'll do my best to help you, or to put you in touch with someone who can. You can leave me a comment here, or send an email to sarah@dysbooks.co.uk, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.
(I love you mum, you always said you hoped one day I'd give something back, well, I'm just getting started...happy Mothers Day).
Friday, March 8, 2013
Mentoring
I had a great meeting in London today, about a mentoring program for students and graduates with learning differences. It seems as though the project has a real chance of coming together soon, and helping a lot of people.
I can't say too much about the project, as it is still evolving, and taking shape, but the main hope is to help people with learning differences progress within creative industries.
I want this to be fun, and as much about having a sense of community as about career progression. I also want to make sure we are providing something that students with learning differences really want and will benefit from, or there is obviously no point.
To this end, I'd love to know people's thoughts and feeling about this.
Is this something that would interest you as a student, graduate, or creative freelancer? What sort of support would you like from a mentoring scheme? (We have discussed talks from people with learning differences who have successful careers in creative industries, business advice, networking opportunities, and help with self awareness). But what would you want from something like this?
For me, I know I would have been interested. I felt scared when I started my degree, and wasn't sure if I could handle it. I know talking to someone who had already completed a degree like mine (English, American Studies, and Creative Writing) would have really helped, and I'd have really enjoyed hanging out with people who understood what it was like to be a bit different, and to have to work a bit harder. Yet, not all mentoring schemes have a huge uptake. My old university trialed a scheme for dyslexic students in one department, and when I heard about it, they were having trouble finding people who wanted to be mentored (though this might have changed as it progressed).
I have theories about why this might be, but the only way to find out if this project can work, and to make it work, is to make sure it's giving people with learning differences things they see to be of real value.
I'm not just collecting views on this blog, but the more feedback I can get, the better this project will be, so your comments really are appreciated.
I can't say too much about the project, as it is still evolving, and taking shape, but the main hope is to help people with learning differences progress within creative industries.
I want this to be fun, and as much about having a sense of community as about career progression. I also want to make sure we are providing something that students with learning differences really want and will benefit from, or there is obviously no point.
To this end, I'd love to know people's thoughts and feeling about this.
Is this something that would interest you as a student, graduate, or creative freelancer? What sort of support would you like from a mentoring scheme? (We have discussed talks from people with learning differences who have successful careers in creative industries, business advice, networking opportunities, and help with self awareness). But what would you want from something like this?
 |
| Eighteen year old me, taken just before I started university. I'm climbing somewhere I probably shouldn't, and at the time I was worried I was doing the same by going after a degree so focused on reading and writing. In both cases, I just went for it, and everything turned out alright, though I didn't realize this was going to happen until I was half way up. |
For me, I know I would have been interested. I felt scared when I started my degree, and wasn't sure if I could handle it. I know talking to someone who had already completed a degree like mine (English, American Studies, and Creative Writing) would have really helped, and I'd have really enjoyed hanging out with people who understood what it was like to be a bit different, and to have to work a bit harder. Yet, not all mentoring schemes have a huge uptake. My old university trialed a scheme for dyslexic students in one department, and when I heard about it, they were having trouble finding people who wanted to be mentored (though this might have changed as it progressed).
I have theories about why this might be, but the only way to find out if this project can work, and to make it work, is to make sure it's giving people with learning differences things they see to be of real value.
I'm not just collecting views on this blog, but the more feedback I can get, the better this project will be, so your comments really are appreciated.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
World Book Day
All this week I have been talking to parents about costumes their children can wear for World Book Day, particularly which costume would be the easiest to make while it still being clear that their child had dressed up. I'm more used to being asked about which book would be best for an eight year old girl who adores ponies, or for books for school projects, so it made for an enjoyable change of pace.
I recommended Harry Potter a lot; put on some glasses (they can easily be made from card), draw on a lightning bolt scar, and like magic, you have a instantly recognizable costume.
The most low effort costume I personally ever used for World Book Day was Harmony from The Queen's Nose. I wore my normal clothes all day, but made sure to carry around a 50p, which I could present if questioned about my identity. In a previous year I had come dressed as Jasmine from Aladdin, which while I looked good, turned out to be too cold to wear comfortably outside. I was not making that mistake again.
But what is World Book Day? Is it just an excuse for children to dress up?
World Book Day is about getting children reading and enjoying books (something I'm also very passionate about). World Book Day itself, describes it as a 'celebration of reading'. It's not just isolated to the UK, as the name implies, it's an international event.
Every year official World Book Day books are released, which cost £1.00. They are free with a World Book Day token, which are given to children through schools. Alternatively, the tokens can be used to get a £1.00 discount on other books (including audio books). Most Primary School children get the tokens, as do some younger children through a Nursery, and some older children through Secondary Schools.
This years World Book Day books are:
You might notice this year there are no offerings for teenagers. To fill this gap Waterstones has teamed up with publisher S & S Children's, to selling two of their books for young adults for £1.00; The Hunt - by Andrew Fukuda, and Girl, Missing - by Sophie McKenzie.
They are not part of the official World Book Day selection, or associated at all with World Book Day. They just cost the right amount to be bought with the £1.00 World Book Day tokens.
But World Book Day isn't just about selling books, schools, bookshops, and libraries, are also encouraged to host events that celebrate reading in the lead up to, on, and after World Book Day. In the bookstore where I work I have run several of these events. Every Sunday I read at a children's Story Time, and I have added in some coloring and craft activities to these. I sourced stickers to give away, along with official activity sheets for different books, and series. I organised a bigger event day during half term, which involved finding characters I had made and hidden among the books in our children's section. I blew up and tied so many balloons to give out as part of the prizes, my fingers were stained the same color as the balloons! The year before I painted children's cheeks and hands with little books and flowers, as part of one of the events.
These sort of events are hard work, but it's so rewarding to see children and enjoying themselves, and talking to them about the books they love, and who their favorite characters are. I volunteered to do something similar for a summer reading scheme with my local library. I was in my teens at the time, and I knew then I wanted to do more things to help more children to become enthusiastic about books.
You can look up events in your area here: http://www.worldbookday.com/events/
What has this got to do with dyslexia?
If I didn't love books, then going through the trial of learning to read wouldn't have appealed to me half as much. To get over those extra barriers to literacy, dyslexic children need to want to read for themselves, for joy as much as for academics, or to make adults happy, especially when they are young and might not realise how important being able to read is.
Things like World Book Day and World Book Day events help get children enthused about reading...they help provide that motivation, the extra spark of interest, that will help dyslexic children endure and overcome their struggles with reading. To me, it doesn't get much more relevant than that.
I recommended Harry Potter a lot; put on some glasses (they can easily be made from card), draw on a lightning bolt scar, and like magic, you have a instantly recognizable costume.
The most low effort costume I personally ever used for World Book Day was Harmony from The Queen's Nose. I wore my normal clothes all day, but made sure to carry around a 50p, which I could present if questioned about my identity. In a previous year I had come dressed as Jasmine from Aladdin, which while I looked good, turned out to be too cold to wear comfortably outside. I was not making that mistake again.
But what is World Book Day? Is it just an excuse for children to dress up?
World Book Day is about getting children reading and enjoying books (something I'm also very passionate about). World Book Day itself, describes it as a 'celebration of reading'. It's not just isolated to the UK, as the name implies, it's an international event.
Every year official World Book Day books are released, which cost £1.00. They are free with a World Book Day token, which are given to children through schools. Alternatively, the tokens can be used to get a £1.00 discount on other books (including audio books). Most Primary School children get the tokens, as do some younger children through a Nursery, and some older children through Secondary Schools.
This years World Book Day books are:
- Tony Robinson’s Weird World of Wonders: Funny Inventions - by Tony Robinson and Del Thorpe
- Horrid Henry’s Guide to Perfect Parents - by Francesca Simon and Tony Ross
- The Diamond Brothers in…Two of Diamonds - by Anthony Horowitz
- Hang In There Bozo - by Lauren Child
- Tom Gates: Best Book Day Ever! (so far) - by Liz Pichon
- The Chocolate Box Girls: Bittersweet - by Cathy Cassid
- Giraffes Can’t Dance Colouring and Puzzle Fun - by Giles Andreae and Guy Parker-Ree
- Alfie's Shop - by Shirley Hughes
You might notice this year there are no offerings for teenagers. To fill this gap Waterstones has teamed up with publisher S & S Children's, to selling two of their books for young adults for £1.00; The Hunt - by Andrew Fukuda, and Girl, Missing - by Sophie McKenzie.
They are not part of the official World Book Day selection, or associated at all with World Book Day. They just cost the right amount to be bought with the £1.00 World Book Day tokens.
But World Book Day isn't just about selling books, schools, bookshops, and libraries, are also encouraged to host events that celebrate reading in the lead up to, on, and after World Book Day. In the bookstore where I work I have run several of these events. Every Sunday I read at a children's Story Time, and I have added in some coloring and craft activities to these. I sourced stickers to give away, along with official activity sheets for different books, and series. I organised a bigger event day during half term, which involved finding characters I had made and hidden among the books in our children's section. I blew up and tied so many balloons to give out as part of the prizes, my fingers were stained the same color as the balloons! The year before I painted children's cheeks and hands with little books and flowers, as part of one of the events.
These sort of events are hard work, but it's so rewarding to see children and enjoying themselves, and talking to them about the books they love, and who their favorite characters are. I volunteered to do something similar for a summer reading scheme with my local library. I was in my teens at the time, and I knew then I wanted to do more things to help more children to become enthusiastic about books.
You can look up events in your area here: http://www.worldbookday.com/events/
What has this got to do with dyslexia?
If I didn't love books, then going through the trial of learning to read wouldn't have appealed to me half as much. To get over those extra barriers to literacy, dyslexic children need to want to read for themselves, for joy as much as for academics, or to make adults happy, especially when they are young and might not realise how important being able to read is.
Things like World Book Day and World Book Day events help get children enthused about reading...they help provide that motivation, the extra spark of interest, that will help dyslexic children endure and overcome their struggles with reading. To me, it doesn't get much more relevant than that.
Friday, February 22, 2013
New Beginnings
I walk through a park on my way to work. Most mornings, I find the park lake partially frozen, and that the only sounds are the cries of angry ducks, and the footfall of joggers. Recently, I have instead been greeted by the sound of children's laughter, and water that glitters as it moves beneath the sunlight.
It seems half term is upon us, and that spring is struggling it's way into the world, bring with it the hesitant bloom for the first few daffodils.
It's a time for new beginnings, and for me to share with you my new projects.
I run children's events at the bookshop where I work, and It's been very busy with half term, and I have been running a few special events. I ran one of these on Wednesday and ended up with blue thumbs from all the balloons I was blowing up to give away as prizes. It's wonderful to see young people having fun, and one of the best parts of my job.
I'll have more news for you soon, along with something about the Dysbooks' Book Club. Please get in touch if you would like to join, either in a blog comment here, or by sending an email to: sarah@dysbooks.co.uk
It seems half term is upon us, and that spring is struggling it's way into the world, bring with it the hesitant bloom for the first few daffodils.It's a time for new beginnings, and for me to share with you my new projects.
- Editing an anthology for RASP. - The anthology will be called Disobedience, something I know more about than most people might expect. It's a difficult task, but one that is incredibly rewarding.
- Helping to set up a mentoring scheme for dyslexics. - It will be connected to several UK Universities, but that's all I can say for now. I am really excited by this, and the potential this has to support young dyslexic people.
- Making changes to dysbooks.com, and working on some more short films to compliment and replace some of the text.
- Casting for Dysbooks' introductory short film.
- Continuing my novel in progress. - Not exactly a new project, but a vital one. The novel isn't very good right now, but the main thing is that I finish it, then I have something to work with, and to reshape into a more coherent and elegant form. I'm over the half way point now, but there is still plenty of plot to go.
- I am considering entering some short story competitions, and I am going to add something about these to dysbooks.com in the near future. If there is any other information or resources you would like to see on the site please let me know.
I run children's events at the bookshop where I work, and It's been very busy with half term, and I have been running a few special events. I ran one of these on Wednesday and ended up with blue thumbs from all the balloons I was blowing up to give away as prizes. It's wonderful to see young people having fun, and one of the best parts of my job.
I'll have more news for you soon, along with something about the Dysbooks' Book Club. Please get in touch if you would like to join, either in a blog comment here, or by sending an email to: sarah@dysbooks.co.uk
Saturday, February 9, 2013
National Libraries Day 2013
Today is National Libraries Day, a celebration of libraries and librarianship across the UK. In honor of this I am going to be blogging about my own experiences of libraries, and why they are vital to our communities.
When I was young, every week, without fail, I would go to my local library with my younger brother. I wasn't very good at reading because of my dyslexia, and I found reading very frustrating, but I always got excited about these visits.
Normally, my grandmother would take us. We would walk with her up from her house and across a railway bridge; if we were with my mother we might have tried to run ahead, but not with Nanny Glen. She was a school teacher, and once told me that if you taught children you had to be able to command their respect the moment you entered a room, something she was highly adept at.
The library itself was a squat building at the end of the High Street, with the children's section located at the very back. Once through the library doors, we would rush to it, fighting over who was going to sit on the giant ladybird-pillow, in our quietest voices. It was a brightly colored area, separated with a wall from the adult sections. This was covered in children's artwork. There were bright wooden boxes of picture books to rummage through, and small chairs for us to sit on.
We were always allowed to choose our own books, so we always had books to take home that we really wanted to read. My grandmother felt this was very important, especially as I was having such a hard time developing my reading skills. She got us to hand our books to the librarian ourselves, along with our library cards, which I remember being extremely proud of. The librarian would ask us about the books we were checking out, which made my brother and I smile shyly, secretly delighted by the attention.
My mother spent a lot of time at work, and had a very stressful job. My brother and I spent much more time with Nanny Glen, and Grandma Amber, as a result, but every night without fail she would sit with us both and read us to us from the library books. It was also a great time to talk about school, and the little things that matter most to children, like my decision to start collecting rocks. My father had made it very clear he did not want me bringing anything living or dead in from our garden, or anyone else's garden, so this was a rather big confession. I swore my mother to secrecy, and she helped me find a cardboard box to put them in, and to hide under my bed. It later transpired my father knew about it all along, but felt less strongly about me hiding fossils in my room than earth worms, or buckets of mud and leaves.
These are some of my best memories, they are a large part of my childhood. My mother helped me to learn to read using library books, and reading from them to my younger brother was one of the few times we both got along. When I could finally read fluently, I decided to read all the books in my school library, starting with Crime. This didn't quite go to plan, though I did discover some of my favorite writers along the way, in an anthology of fantasy and science fiction, as well as a love of classics. In later years I volunteered to help run a reading scheme at my local library, and I got to experience the pleasure of helping others to enjoy reading for the first time. I've come a long way since then, mentoring young people with dyslexia, through an English degree, and into a job as a Bookseller (something I had always wanted to do). None of this would have been possible without libraries...this is why I feel it is so important to celebrate libraries, and the people who run them, especially today.
Sarah
(Dysbooks Founder)
How have libraries and librarians positively influenced your lives?
When I was young, every week, without fail, I would go to my local library with my younger brother. I wasn't very good at reading because of my dyslexia, and I found reading very frustrating, but I always got excited about these visits.
Normally, my grandmother would take us. We would walk with her up from her house and across a railway bridge; if we were with my mother we might have tried to run ahead, but not with Nanny Glen. She was a school teacher, and once told me that if you taught children you had to be able to command their respect the moment you entered a room, something she was highly adept at.
The library itself was a squat building at the end of the High Street, with the children's section located at the very back. Once through the library doors, we would rush to it, fighting over who was going to sit on the giant ladybird-pillow, in our quietest voices. It was a brightly colored area, separated with a wall from the adult sections. This was covered in children's artwork. There were bright wooden boxes of picture books to rummage through, and small chairs for us to sit on.
We were always allowed to choose our own books, so we always had books to take home that we really wanted to read. My grandmother felt this was very important, especially as I was having such a hard time developing my reading skills. She got us to hand our books to the librarian ourselves, along with our library cards, which I remember being extremely proud of. The librarian would ask us about the books we were checking out, which made my brother and I smile shyly, secretly delighted by the attention.
My mother spent a lot of time at work, and had a very stressful job. My brother and I spent much more time with Nanny Glen, and Grandma Amber, as a result, but every night without fail she would sit with us both and read us to us from the library books. It was also a great time to talk about school, and the little things that matter most to children, like my decision to start collecting rocks. My father had made it very clear he did not want me bringing anything living or dead in from our garden, or anyone else's garden, so this was a rather big confession. I swore my mother to secrecy, and she helped me find a cardboard box to put them in, and to hide under my bed. It later transpired my father knew about it all along, but felt less strongly about me hiding fossils in my room than earth worms, or buckets of mud and leaves.
These are some of my best memories, they are a large part of my childhood. My mother helped me to learn to read using library books, and reading from them to my younger brother was one of the few times we both got along. When I could finally read fluently, I decided to read all the books in my school library, starting with Crime. This didn't quite go to plan, though I did discover some of my favorite writers along the way, in an anthology of fantasy and science fiction, as well as a love of classics. In later years I volunteered to help run a reading scheme at my local library, and I got to experience the pleasure of helping others to enjoy reading for the first time. I've come a long way since then, mentoring young people with dyslexia, through an English degree, and into a job as a Bookseller (something I had always wanted to do). None of this would have been possible without libraries...this is why I feel it is so important to celebrate libraries, and the people who run them, especially today.
Sarah
(Dysbooks Founder)
How have libraries and librarians positively influenced your lives?
Friday, February 8, 2013
Quick Reads 2013
Quick Reads' new books for 2013 are out this month, so today our blog is going to take a look at what Quick Reads is, and why the books they publish are great for dyslexics.
Quick Reads is a scheme set up to encourage adults who are reluctant to read to pick up a book. They publish books designed to be as appealing as possible to these adults. They are short, easy to read, exciting, and all written by popular authors. The books can be bought through High Street stores, and online, for just £1. Quick Reads publishes several new books once a year.
These books are perfect for dyslexic adults who want to start reading for pleasure. They are un-intimidating, affordable, well written, and easy to read without being childish. If you like an author it is also easy to find other books they have written that are not published by Quick Reads. If memory is a problem, the shortness of the books means they can be finished before any of the plot or characters are forgotten.
This year the Quick Reads books are:
A Dreadful Murder by Minette Walters
A Sea Change by Veronica Henry
Doctor Who: The Silurian Gift by Mike Tucker
Love is Blind by Kathy Lette
Today Everything Changes by Andy McNab
Wrong Time, Wrong Place by Simon Kernick
The books can be bought through most High Street bookshops in the UK, and online in print, or as ebooks. They can also be borrowed from many libraries. For more details on availability visit the Quick Reads website: quickreads.org.uk
Quick Reads is a scheme set up to encourage adults who are reluctant to read to pick up a book. They publish books designed to be as appealing as possible to these adults. They are short, easy to read, exciting, and all written by popular authors. The books can be bought through High Street stores, and online, for just £1. Quick Reads publishes several new books once a year.
These books are perfect for dyslexic adults who want to start reading for pleasure. They are un-intimidating, affordable, well written, and easy to read without being childish. If you like an author it is also easy to find other books they have written that are not published by Quick Reads. If memory is a problem, the shortness of the books means they can be finished before any of the plot or characters are forgotten.
This year the Quick Reads books are:
A Dreadful Murder by Minette Walters
A Sea Change by Veronica Henry
Doctor Who: The Silurian Gift by Mike Tucker
Love is Blind by Kathy Lette
Today Everything Changes by Andy McNab
Wrong Time, Wrong Place by Simon Kernick
The books can be bought through most High Street bookshops in the UK, and online in print, or as ebooks. They can also be borrowed from many libraries. For more details on availability visit the Quick Reads website: quickreads.org.uk
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Interview with Helen Lawson
Following our recent review of 'The Spaceship Saga', Dysbooks interviews author Helen Lawson about her 'Read a Play' series. You can read our review of the first book in the series here.
How did you come up with the concept for 'Read a Play'?
I’m an advertising copywriter by profession and have always worked with words in one way or another. It was also a burning ambition of mine to be a published writer. I think I was always waiting for the right storyline, the right time, the right reason to start a book and really it was like a light bulb went on in my head when I thought of creating ‘Read a Play’ stories. They’re for our son after spending many nights trying to get him to enjoy reading. He didn't want to read little books any more, he wanted to keep up with his friends but his dyslexia stopped him and also knocked his confidence. After talking with a friend who works in education she explained there might be just too much text on the page and it overwhelms him. It was right then when I had to idea to chop it up into chunks like a play.
Are your books aimed at dyslexic readers, if so, are they aimed purely at dyslexics?
They’re not just aimed at dyslexic readers, no, any child can and does enjoy them from the feedback I’m getting. I just think the concept of only reading every other line and getting to finish the story before bed really helped with our son’s confidence. It really worked for him so I hope it works for other struggling readers, whether they have dyslexia or not. I know of a couple of very confident readers who have been acting the stories out and having fun with them that way, which I love. It also means they begin to put expression into their reading because they follow your lead. Hearing this is wonderful!
Have you always had an interest in writing?
I have always been a writer, yes. When I did Camp America at age 18 I wrote short plays for the children to perform and I used to write a funny poem to read out at the end of their week on camp about their experiences there. After that I went on to have a very varied career, including a stint as a radio producer and a restaurateur. At the age of 31 I became a copywriter, which reminded me of how much I love to write.
Who is your favorite children's author, and why?
As a young girl I read almost every Enid Blyton book there was. I just loved them. Oddly though I don’t think they've stood the test of time with me because when we read them now they feel very dated. I find myself changing the language a bit as I read it out. Roald Dahl, on the other hand, is timeless. I’m reading The Witches with our 8-year-old girl at the moment and every night as I go to tuck her in she gives my hair a tug just to check. It’s magical.
What was the hardest part of writing your book, and getting it published?
I got extremely, extremely lucky to get published so quickly. I’m still not quite sure how I managed it. I put a status update on Facebook asking if I knew anyone who knew anyone who worked in publishing and it turns out I did. I sent them the first draft of my first story, Football Madness, along with an explanation of the concept and I got a publishing deal 3 months later. The hardest part was trying to be patient. That’s not something that comes naturally to me. Waiting to get the actual book in my hands felt like a lifetime when actually it was only about 10 months.
What advice would you give to writers who are just starting out?
Keep writing. Keep plugging away. Talk to people. Try and find someone who knows someone who knows someone and keep going. Also, always go back to your work a few weeks after you’ve written it. Even if you think you’ve finished, you’ll find things you want to change and amend and you can do that better once you’ve had some time apart from your work.
Is there anything else you would like to say about yourself, or your work?
I really want to make writing ‘Read a Play’ books my career and see them on children’s bookshelves across the world. I love the idea that it makes parents and carers read together with children and I feel excited and very passionate about making this little idea work. I’m also still freelancing to pay the bills and even though I’m working on new stories it’s difficult sometimes to juggle work, children, writing and our two dogs. Fingers crossed someone somewhere picks it up and sees the potential not just in this idea but also in me and then I can realise my ambitions for ‘Read a Play’ books.
How did you come up with the concept for 'Read a Play'?
I’m an advertising copywriter by profession and have always worked with words in one way or another. It was also a burning ambition of mine to be a published writer. I think I was always waiting for the right storyline, the right time, the right reason to start a book and really it was like a light bulb went on in my head when I thought of creating ‘Read a Play’ stories. They’re for our son after spending many nights trying to get him to enjoy reading. He didn't want to read little books any more, he wanted to keep up with his friends but his dyslexia stopped him and also knocked his confidence. After talking with a friend who works in education she explained there might be just too much text on the page and it overwhelms him. It was right then when I had to idea to chop it up into chunks like a play.
Are your books aimed at dyslexic readers, if so, are they aimed purely at dyslexics?
They’re not just aimed at dyslexic readers, no, any child can and does enjoy them from the feedback I’m getting. I just think the concept of only reading every other line and getting to finish the story before bed really helped with our son’s confidence. It really worked for him so I hope it works for other struggling readers, whether they have dyslexia or not. I know of a couple of very confident readers who have been acting the stories out and having fun with them that way, which I love. It also means they begin to put expression into their reading because they follow your lead. Hearing this is wonderful!
Have you always had an interest in writing?
I have always been a writer, yes. When I did Camp America at age 18 I wrote short plays for the children to perform and I used to write a funny poem to read out at the end of their week on camp about their experiences there. After that I went on to have a very varied career, including a stint as a radio producer and a restaurateur. At the age of 31 I became a copywriter, which reminded me of how much I love to write.
Who is your favorite children's author, and why?
As a young girl I read almost every Enid Blyton book there was. I just loved them. Oddly though I don’t think they've stood the test of time with me because when we read them now they feel very dated. I find myself changing the language a bit as I read it out. Roald Dahl, on the other hand, is timeless. I’m reading The Witches with our 8-year-old girl at the moment and every night as I go to tuck her in she gives my hair a tug just to check. It’s magical.
What was the hardest part of writing your book, and getting it published?
I got extremely, extremely lucky to get published so quickly. I’m still not quite sure how I managed it. I put a status update on Facebook asking if I knew anyone who knew anyone who worked in publishing and it turns out I did. I sent them the first draft of my first story, Football Madness, along with an explanation of the concept and I got a publishing deal 3 months later. The hardest part was trying to be patient. That’s not something that comes naturally to me. Waiting to get the actual book in my hands felt like a lifetime when actually it was only about 10 months.
What advice would you give to writers who are just starting out?
Keep writing. Keep plugging away. Talk to people. Try and find someone who knows someone who knows someone and keep going. Also, always go back to your work a few weeks after you’ve written it. Even if you think you’ve finished, you’ll find things you want to change and amend and you can do that better once you’ve had some time apart from your work.
Is there anything else you would like to say about yourself, or your work?
I really want to make writing ‘Read a Play’ books my career and see them on children’s bookshelves across the world. I love the idea that it makes parents and carers read together with children and I feel excited and very passionate about making this little idea work. I’m also still freelancing to pay the bills and even though I’m working on new stories it’s difficult sometimes to juggle work, children, writing and our two dogs. Fingers crossed someone somewhere picks it up and sees the potential not just in this idea but also in me and then I can realise my ambitions for ‘Read a Play’ books.
'The Space Ship Saga' can be purchased through any of these booksellers:
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Review - The Spaceship Saga: and Other Stories
When I was young my mother used to read to me every night before I went to sleep, because I loved stories. When she found out I had dyslexia she decided it was essential she do this, especially as it was getting harder for her to get me practice my reading skills, partly as I found it so difficult, and partly because my school reading books were so dull. Her solution to this was to ignore the school books, and to wait until she reached a really exciting part in the story she was reading to me. She would then stop, and tell me if I wanted to know what happened next I would have to read it myself. Over the years she got me to read longer and longer sections, until she was no longer reading to me every night, I was reading to her.
There were other factors that contributed to my reading getting better, but this was an important part of how I overcame many of my reading difficulties, so when I came across 'The Spaceship Saga: and Other Stories' by Helen Lawson, I was very interested to find it had be written so it could easily be read this way. It is the first in a series of books for developing readers called 'Read a Play' where parents and children are encouraged to take turns reading together.
I was still unsure what to expect from the book, and whether it would be any different to reading a play, and if it would actually offer anything different to the huge range of books that claim to improve children's reading skills. The book is marketed with the suggestion that each story can be read in one sitting, so I also wondered if there would be enough text for it to be worthwhile to use specifically to improve reading ability.
These reservations soon faded away as I began reading the first story. While it is very similar to reading a play, as the series title suggests, it's more of a blend between a play and a normal children's book. Each story lists the characters in it at the start, and they always include a narrator. It is the narrator's sections that are similar to reading a standard children's story, and it is through the narrator that character's motives and thoughts are conveyed, as well as all of the description. The parts where the character's speak are lively, interesting, and often funny. Every story could easily be read in one sitting, but there is plenty of text to read, the book is just written so it feels like you are reading less and at a faster rate, something sure to appeal to many reluctant readers.
I can easily see how it could really help children who are struggling with their reading, or who find reading off putting, but it's also a book all children within it's target age range (6-8) could enjoy.
The author Helen Lawson says she wrote the book after her experiences trying to help her dyslexic son with his reading skills, and reading enjoyment. She found that breaking each story into manageable chunks improved his confidence, and that he loved her amusing and surprising tales.
There is a good mix of stories and parts for male and female readers. Through swapping roles the stories have some re-reading value, and I can see them being enjoyed by siblings. All in all, it would be a fantastic addition to many children's book shelves, and I hope that the series continues.
I just wish this book was around when I was younger.
Sarah
(Dysbooks Founder)
We will be soon be interviewing Helen Lawson, but in the mean time you can find out more about her here: readaplayhelenlawson.blogspot.co.uk. You can buy 'The Space Ship Saga' through any of these booksellers:
Waterstones
amazon.co.uk
Foyles
Barnes and Noble
There were other factors that contributed to my reading getting better, but this was an important part of how I overcame many of my reading difficulties, so when I came across 'The Spaceship Saga: and Other Stories' by Helen Lawson, I was very interested to find it had be written so it could easily be read this way. It is the first in a series of books for developing readers called 'Read a Play' where parents and children are encouraged to take turns reading together.
I was still unsure what to expect from the book, and whether it would be any different to reading a play, and if it would actually offer anything different to the huge range of books that claim to improve children's reading skills. The book is marketed with the suggestion that each story can be read in one sitting, so I also wondered if there would be enough text for it to be worthwhile to use specifically to improve reading ability.
These reservations soon faded away as I began reading the first story. While it is very similar to reading a play, as the series title suggests, it's more of a blend between a play and a normal children's book. Each story lists the characters in it at the start, and they always include a narrator. It is the narrator's sections that are similar to reading a standard children's story, and it is through the narrator that character's motives and thoughts are conveyed, as well as all of the description. The parts where the character's speak are lively, interesting, and often funny. Every story could easily be read in one sitting, but there is plenty of text to read, the book is just written so it feels like you are reading less and at a faster rate, something sure to appeal to many reluctant readers.
I can easily see how it could really help children who are struggling with their reading, or who find reading off putting, but it's also a book all children within it's target age range (6-8) could enjoy.
The author Helen Lawson says she wrote the book after her experiences trying to help her dyslexic son with his reading skills, and reading enjoyment. She found that breaking each story into manageable chunks improved his confidence, and that he loved her amusing and surprising tales.
There is a good mix of stories and parts for male and female readers. Through swapping roles the stories have some re-reading value, and I can see them being enjoyed by siblings. All in all, it would be a fantastic addition to many children's book shelves, and I hope that the series continues.
I just wish this book was around when I was younger.
Sarah
(Dysbooks Founder)
We will be soon be interviewing Helen Lawson, but in the mean time you can find out more about her here: readaplayhelenlawson.blogspot.co.uk. You can buy 'The Space Ship Saga' through any of these booksellers:
Waterstones
amazon.co.uk
Foyles
Barnes and Noble
Friday, February 1, 2013
Update...
In my last post I introduced Dysbooks, and myself. This time I'm going to update you on all the magical things we have planned over the coming weeks, the biggest of which is work on our first short film. I've messed about with film making before, but this is the first time I've ever spoken into a boom, it was really intimidating, and my friend Laura kept laughing at my facial expressions as she advanced on me with it. I was really worried my cat was going to attack it, but luckily she contented herself with yowling during some of the takes. Thank goodness for editing software.
We only recorded the voice over today, next, is the storyboard, and recruiting people to be filmed. I'm going to be in some of it, as it's partly about my experiences with dyslexia, but I will need other people in it, too. Mark, Dysbooks editor, and my long suffering dyspraxic boyfriend, has declined the opportunity to be in my masterpiece. He helps a huge amount with Dysbooks, so I'm not going to try to force it on him.
In other news, this Feburary the Dysbooks' Book Club (or rather I, as I'm currently the only member) will be reading Spellwright by Blake Charlton. I cannot tell you how much I hope you will join me, partly as it's not really much of a club if I'm the only one taking part, and because the book has a fantastic concept.
*Cue dramatic music*
In a world where people create magic by writing spells into their muscles, a prophesy is made. A wizard of great power shall come forth to prevent the Apocalypse, this wizard is Nicodemus Weal...or that's what everyone thought, until they realised he couldn't spell. This is something which can have deadly results, as well as preventing Nicodemus from ending his apprenticeship. Despite this, there are those who still believe Nicodemus is the chosen one, and who will do whatever it takes to control him and his abilities.
I had to buy this book, especially as the first page reveled the author was dyslexic, and not only were they a successful novelist, but they are a Yale graduate, and medical student. In short, really cool. It has been hard to resist starting the book early, especially as it's gotten some fantastic praise, and I messaged Mr Charlton via twitter telling him about the book club, and he gave me a lovely response.
We'll have our first author feature soon, and a review of their book. It's called The Spaceship Saga, and Other Stories, by Helen Lawson. It was inspired by her dyslexic son's struggles with reading, and I'm really looking forward to it.
Several people have asked about getting their books and writing projects reviewed. Our current policy is that if you send it, we'll review it. Just message me for details, through facebook, twitter, or the website. I'm happy to help with writing projects too, though I am hoping to turn this into a writing group, instead of individual email correspondence.
That's all for now,
Sarah
(Dysbooks Founder)
We only recorded the voice over today, next, is the storyboard, and recruiting people to be filmed. I'm going to be in some of it, as it's partly about my experiences with dyslexia, but I will need other people in it, too. Mark, Dysbooks editor, and my long suffering dyspraxic boyfriend, has declined the opportunity to be in my masterpiece. He helps a huge amount with Dysbooks, so I'm not going to try to force it on him.
In other news, this Feburary the Dysbooks' Book Club (or rather I, as I'm currently the only member) will be reading Spellwright by Blake Charlton. I cannot tell you how much I hope you will join me, partly as it's not really much of a club if I'm the only one taking part, and because the book has a fantastic concept.
*Cue dramatic music*
In a world where people create magic by writing spells into their muscles, a prophesy is made. A wizard of great power shall come forth to prevent the Apocalypse, this wizard is Nicodemus Weal...or that's what everyone thought, until they realised he couldn't spell. This is something which can have deadly results, as well as preventing Nicodemus from ending his apprenticeship. Despite this, there are those who still believe Nicodemus is the chosen one, and who will do whatever it takes to control him and his abilities.
I had to buy this book, especially as the first page reveled the author was dyslexic, and not only were they a successful novelist, but they are a Yale graduate, and medical student. In short, really cool. It has been hard to resist starting the book early, especially as it's gotten some fantastic praise, and I messaged Mr Charlton via twitter telling him about the book club, and he gave me a lovely response.
Several people have asked about getting their books and writing projects reviewed. Our current policy is that if you send it, we'll review it. Just message me for details, through facebook, twitter, or the website. I'm happy to help with writing projects too, though I am hoping to turn this into a writing group, instead of individual email correspondence.
That's all for now,
Sarah
(Dysbooks Founder)
Monday, January 14, 2013
Welcome one, welcome all...
Welcome to Dysbooks' Blog,
Now, I suppose, I should tell you a little about me.
I'm dyslexic, and I have a degree in English, American Studies, and Creative Writing (2.1). My mother was told when I was six that I would never read or write. My dream is to become an author, and to write books until I am old and grey, and I can no longer grasp a pen. I work as a Bookseller. I own so many books they are piling up on the floor. I volunteer for a group called TOTKO (Takes One To Know One), that goes into schools and gives workshops on learning differences to students, teachers, and parents. I do this because my other dream is to make the world a better place for people with dyslexia, and other learning differences. I founded Dysbooks in 2011, but I have been working on it since 2010. I'm still not quite finished, but I'm getting there, and I hope you will come with me on my journey.I will be posting here about Dysbooks as it grows and develops, about dyslexia, and a little about my own life too.
Sarah (Dysbooks Founder)
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