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.
This is the blog for dysbooks.com, it is updated by our founder, Sarah.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
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
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