Spellcheck Saved My Book - A dyslexic writer’s guide to finishing, anyway.
Let’s talk about dyslexia. Not the kind you read about in textbooks—but the kind I’ve lived with every day of my life.
I’ve always known my brain worked a little differently; letters flipped, numbers reversed, and words jumped. Reading out loud in school was a nightmare—I’d sound flat, robotic, and slow, and in fact, I still do – I never really got better at that. In third grade, our class was split into reading groups: A, B, and C. I was in C, which, even at eight years old, I knew meant: “You’re not good at this.”
It was embarrassing. Shameful.
Eventually, I was put in a special group using Hooked on Phonics, and while that program helped some kids, for me, it just made things worse. I was taught to chop up words into tiny pieces, but no one ever helped me put them back together.
For a long time, I thought I was just bad at reading and spelling. It wasn’t until after college that I realized I was dyslexic, and suddenly, everything made sense. Back in the ’70s, nobody was diagnosing dyslexia; you were just “slow” or “not trying hard enough.”
Here’s something else no one told me: Dyslexia and ADD often come as a pair.
Not only was my brain struggling to decode what my eyes were seeing, but it was also wandering off in a hundred directions. I’d be halfway through a sentence and already spinning off into a daydream. Reading a book felt impossible, not because I didn’t want to—but because it required a level of focus that I just didn’t have. I do read, I like to read, but it takes a great writer to shut off my imagination and pull me into their world. Usually, it takes a few chapters before I’m fully hooked, and if I go too long between reading sessions, I lose the thread and never finish. It’s frustrating.
That’s why I get so embarrassed when someone asks, “Who’s your favorite author?” Or worse: “What’s your favorite classic?” Truth? I’ve barely read any of the classics; I’ve always wanted to—but I could never commit.
And then came a miracle: Save the Cat Writes a Novel: The book that helped me “cheat”
Not only did it help me shape the bones of my manuscript—it gave me CliffsNotes on all the classic stories I’ve never managed to finish. For the first time, I felt like I got it; I understood why those stories worked.
Yes, it’s kind of cheating.
No, I don’t care.
If I ever get a big interview—like Oprah—and she asks who inspired my writing, I won’t have an answer, but I’ll probably panic and say something weird.
The truth is… I’m a paranormal junkie. My favorite books are true ghost stories.
Right now I’m reading “There Is a River”, the biography of Edgar Cayce—also known as “The Sleeping Prophet.”
So yeah, sorry Oprah. I’m not smart enough to have a favorite author (at least, that’s how it feels when people ask).
The Champagne Story
I’ve had a lifelong habit of botching words. Badly. When I was 19, I was majoring in interior design and working at an architectural firm. Trying to sound sophisticated one day, I announced:
“When I drink champagne, I only drink Pierre Cardin.”
I really meant Dom Pérignon. Pierre Cardin is… a men’s cologne.
My coworkers howled. I was mortified. And yes—my husband still teases me about it, but lovingly.
How I Actually Wrote Flight 987
My book wasn’t typed out in a flurry of inspiration - It was handwritten. Literally.
I carried a notebook with me on every flight. After service was done and the cabin was quiet, I’d pull it out and work on a scene/sequel outline. Later, I’d take that rough outline and handwrite the full scene. Only after that would I transfer it into a Word doc at home.
Was it slow? Absolutely, but it worked for me. That was the rhythm that allowed my brain to keep up with my imagination.
Spellcheck saved me, outlining saved me, and the belief that stories don’t have to be perfectly spelled to be worth telling? That saved me too.
If you’re a fellow writer with dyslexia, or you struggle with a learning disorder, here’s what I want you to know:
You are not broken
You are not stupid
You do not need permission
Your story matters.
It might take longer
It might look messier
…but, if I can write a thriller—one scene, one napkin, one scribbled idea at a time—so can you!
