I am dyslexic. I was diagnosed in grade school in the 198os, and no one knew quite what to do with me. I was a smart kid, but a painfully slow reader, and I’d often reverse my letters and numbers or make simple spelling mistakes.

Word searches were nearly impossible for me to complete.

I am still a slow reader, and when I’m tired, I reverse letters and numbers and make simple spelling mistakes. I often can’t spell “of” correctly — even though “o.v.” doesn’t look right. Acronyms don’t stick in my head, and it is ‌difficult for me to process written information when it is poorly formatted.

The websites of the early 90s were a nightmare.

But dyslexia also comes with a few gifts, one of which is a remarkable ability to identify and recognize complex patterns, including language patterns and article structure.

The power of pattern recognition.

In high school, I wanted to be a journalist or a lawyer. Because of my diagnosis, my academic advisor told me neither option was realistic.

That was the last time I spoke with my advisor.

I’ve always enjoyed reading and writing, even though I was much slower than my peers. But slow reading helped me study the structure of everything I read. Over time, I understood what made a collection of words stick together. As I discovered writers whose work I admired, I studied their writing more closely. It felt like a game — like a giant jigsaw puzzle of words.

In law school, I picked apart legal briefs, Supreme Court decisions, and journal articles. The structure differed from the novels and National Geographic articles I was used to, but it was there. Because of my understanding of the structure of legal writing, I was awarded a Dillard Fellowship, a teaching assistant position in the legal research and writing program at the University of Virginia School of Law. The following year, I served on the editorial board of one of the law journals.

The first time I wrote for a magazine, I read every article the publication put out in the last year so I could find the patterns. They all followed a similar structure, with slight variations depending on who wrote the piece.

Once I understood the structure, I could mimic it.

As I developed my writing voice, I experimented with the structure, adding my own variations. Once I found a few structures that worked well for me, I rotated between them.

The structure of an article is largely hidden. When no one noticed I was using the same few structures repeatedly, I got nervous.

I felt like I had pulled a fast one over on my editor!

But structure is built into every kind of writing, and my editor was well aware of my preferred variations. But because they fit within the standard structure, my preferences were part of my voice and style, not a trick.

Your reader expects a certain structure, even if they can’t identify each of the elements. And structure helps you, as the writer, get your point across.

Using structure to become a better writer.

Every non-fiction article follows a variation of the same basic structure: there’s an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. The introduction works with the headline to tell the reader what you’re going to tell them while providing the necessary context. The body goes into the details, telling the reader what you want to tell them. The conclusion wraps it all up in a nice bow and tells the reader what you just told them.

Variations exist within that basic structure, but that structure is always there. It provides a solid container for your writing.

Because I am dyslexic, I struggle to write in a logical order. Having an outline helps, but when I’m writing a longer piece, or a piece with a lot of research, my process looks chaotic.

I capture quotes and notes and miscellaneous ideas in one big document. I don’t bother looking for a rhyme or reason. I throw everything into the mix. At this stage, the point is to capture my ideas and anything else that might make it into the piece.

Then, I print out the document and grab a pair of scissors. I cut each snippet of text from the page and group similar ideas together. I order the notes within each group, and write one section at a time. I rarely start at the beginning. I like to start with the section that sparks my interest and curiosity.

It’s a messy process, but it works for me. It allows me to honor the way my brain works.

I don’t think linearly, which can be a bit of a challenge. But it can also help me make connections that other people miss. And those connections — those surprising insights — make for good reading (and fun writing)!

It is because of my dyslexia that I understand the patterns inherent in article-writing.

These patterns are things you can learn, and they can help you become a better writer, regardless of whether you have dyslexia.