The Fear of Writing My Book with Dyslexia

This November will mark three years since I started writing my memoir, Discovering My Scars. I had layers of fear about sharing my story with the world, one of them being the fact that I’m dyslexic. 

At the beginning of first grade, my teacher was pregnant and left a few months later to go on maternity leave. When she returned, she was the first to notice that I wasn’t progressing like the other students.

I was tested, and diagnosed with a reading and writing learning disability (dyslexia). I was in regular classes, but pulled out for a few hours a week for special one-on-one teaching. I was taught differently, as I learned differently than others in my grade. 

I had to work harder than my friends, and I accepted that fact. I didn’t feel sorry for myself—it was just who I was. I had private tutoring at one point, and took summer school third to forth grade. I was not excited about that, but my parents sweetened the deal by getting me a membership to the now defunct “Discovery Zone” (look it up, it was the coolest indoor play space)!

I worked hard, and in high school graduated with a 4.0! I was very proud, although my school was very big on AP classes, so even with a 4.0 I was ranked #100 in my class. 

I know how to write. I know how to read. But it’s still hard for me. So when I got the overwhelming feeling that I needed to share my story in written form, one of my first thoughts was, “Who wants to read a book by a dyslexic? I’m not going to use the right words, and people will think it’s very elementary in style.” ​

With all that fear, I forged ahead and just wrote the darn thing. 

When the first draft was done, I submitted it to Morgan James Publishing, and it got accepted. Even thought it was accepted, I still had more work to do. It was suggested to me that I get a developmental editor who would help shape the story. And then it was suggested I get a ghost writer to help make the story flow better. 

The dyslexic in me wanted to jump up and say “Yes, please, ghost write for me so I look like a better writer and fix my words.” 

But then I thought about it, and asked my editor if she thought I could do the developmental edit to “fix” the structure of the story. She thought I could, so she did a manuscript review to show me what parts of the story needed work. 

For two weeks (the last two weeks of December) I wrote, and re-wrote, and reworked the whole structure of my book. I doubted my abilities many times, but I finished and had a final line edit done my editor. 

Writing a book is hard. There are so many steps, and so much emotional work involved. Even after I took plunge to write, there was fear at every level. For me, it was never smooth sailing through each step. 

Each step (as there are still more today, like marketing) is hard and scary and vulnerable—but with hesitation—I take each step and have a drop more confidence each time. After taking a giant step forward, sometimes I have to take two steps back, but I process and then continue forward.

If you want to read the story of my life, the story I’m fearful AND proud to share, you can get an advanced copy here.