What My Childhood Reading Struggles Taught Me About How I Work Today

Why listening first and reading second has transformed my editing work (and might help you too)

Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash

Last week’s newsletter mentioned that I’m taking a course on neurodivergent inclusive coaching. This learning has me realizing that the way I think and process information may not be typical in certain ways. I'm beginning to suspect that I have ADHD (more on that in a future post), in addition to dyslexia, and better understanding myself is causing me to reflect on strategies I’ve developed for work.

Bear with me, dear reader. I’ll likely be doing a lot of personal self-reflection as I process these new insights. Today is no different! But I hope that you might gain some practical ideas about managing the plethora of reading we do for our jobs or that you might see yourself in part of my story. Here goes.

The Pattern Was There All Along

I didn’t learn to read until I was ten years old. My mom called it a developmental delay, but perhaps it was undiagnosed neurodivergence. Whatever the reason, reading didn’t come naturally to me as a child. But my mom found a strategy that worked: she read aloud to me while I played with Legos. This wasn’t just accommodation—it was how my brain learned best.

The pattern was there all along, even if I didn’t recognize it until recently: I comprehend more quickly through listening than reading. When I learned to play piano, my teacher told my mother that I had a hard time reading the notes, so I would just make up what sounded good. When learning languages—now including Dutch—my listening comprehension is always levels above my speaking or reading. That truth about how my brain works has followed me from childhood into my professional life, and it’s only now, through this course I’m taking, that I’m beginning to understand why.

Now, as someone who does developmental editing work, I’ve discovered that this same pattern still holds true. For my first pass through a manuscript, I listen to it on Voice Dream, a text-to-speech app. After listening, I read the material manually and insert detailed notes. This two-pass approach works beautifully because listening first gives me the big picture, making subsequent reading so much easier. I can absorb the overall argument, the flow of ideas, and the structure of the piece through audio in a way that helps me orient myself before diving into the details. I also speed up the audio—my brain processes faster this way, though I know that’s not the case for everyone.

It’s important to note that not everyone’s brain has a preference for audio, even if you have dyslexia. There are a variety of types of neurodivergence and learning differences, and what works for me might not work for you. Some people comprehend much more quickly from reading text directly. Others benefit from listening but need to slow the audio down rather than speed it up. There may be other factors that influence how my brain works beyond neurodivergence. The point isn’t that audio is universally better—it’s that there’s no single “right” way to process information, and understanding how your individual brain works best can transform how you approach your work.

How I Actually Use Voice Dream

Let me walk you through how I actually use Voice Dream Reader in my developmental editing work. The app allows me to save PDFs and import them directly, and importantly for confidentiality, Voice Dream keeps files local on the device and does not have access to them—a crucial feature when working with clients’ manuscripts or student work.

I listen while taking a walk, working out at the gym, or commuting. As I listen, I pause occasionally to take a few shorthand notes on my phone for things I want to explore further when I read manually later. These aren’t detailed notes—just quick reminders of patterns I’m noticing or questions that arise.

The first pass through audio ensures my comprehension and actually speeds up the entire process for me. When I can catch orally whether an argument is unclear or if the structure isn’t quite working, I’m already thinking critically about the piece. But I still have to manually dive into the text during subsequent passes to begin thinking about why an argument might be unclear and how to make specific suggestions to fix it. The listening pass gives me the framework; the reading passes let me work within that framework with greater efficiency and understanding.

If you’re faculty reading this, you might be thinking about how this could apply to your own work. The same two-pass approach can work beautifully for reading articles for research or even grading student work. Imagine listening to student papers while taking a walk or commuting, getting that first sense of their argument and writing quality, then returning to the document later to add detailed feedback. It’s not about replacing close reading—it’s about making close reading more effective by starting with comprehensive understanding. This strategy might be useful for folks without learning or processing differences as well.

Working With Your Brain, Not Against It

My point is to work with your brain instead of against it. For years, I thought I was just a slow reader, or that I needed to try harder to focus. Now I’m realizing that my brain simply processes information differently, and there are tools that allow me to work in ways that feel natural rather than forced. Finding movement opportunities throughout the day while tackling that ever-expanding reading queue is a bonus, but the real gift is discovering a workflow that actually works with how my brain functions.

This approach isn’t just about personal accommodation. There’s a variety of neurodivergence and learning differences out there, and for some folks, audio can feel more effortless than reading written pieces directly. Technology allows us to customize our learning and working environments in ways that previous generations couldn’t have imagined. Understanding how our individual brains work best is powerful—it means we can stop trying to force ourselves into methods that don’t serve us and instead find approaches that let us do our best work.

So I’ll leave you with an invitation to reflect: How does your brain work best? What accommodations or tools might help you work with your natural processing style rather than against it? As I continue to learn more about neurodivergence and how my own brain works, I’m reminded again and again that work strategies should serve us, not the other way around.

There’s no virtue in making work harder than it needs to be, and there’s real wisdom in understanding yourself well enough to build systems that actually work for you.