Over the past few weeks, since first finding out about Blake Charlton and his upcoming debut novel, Spellwright, I’ve made a point of covering the novel. I don’t know what it is that’s grabbed my attention (certainly not the suitcase full of small, unmarked bills…); maybe it’s glowingly positive praise from Terry Brooks, Robin Hobb, Tad Williams, Tobias Buckell and Daniel Abraham, some of my very favourite authors; maybe it’s the fact that it reminds me of the Fantasy I used to love as a kid; maybe it’s Charlton’s background as a Med Student and his fight with Dyslexia (which plays a huge role in the story). What I do know is that I’m anxious to get my hands on an advance copy (that seems stuck in the endless limbo of the Canadian/US postal system) and even more excited about the 6,500+ word interview Charlton and I put together.

So take a look, and see why you might be just as excited about Spellwright as I am.

The Interview

Blake, welcome to A Dribble of Ink! I appreciate you taking the time to drop by.

   Thanks so much. I’ve become a big fan of the blog, and it’s wonderful to have my first interview here.
 
One look at your bio reveals an interesting aspect of your history as a reader and a writer: you were diagnosed at a young age with severe dyslexia, a learning disorder that manifests itself as a difficulty with reading and spelling. My brother is also dyslexic, working now in the film industry and writing some damn good scripts, so I’m aware of the struggles and trials facing someone with the disorder as they try to prove, to themselves and others, that it does not define them.

What was it like for you, growing up with dyslexia, but still finding yourself on the path to becoming a published author?

   First off, the very best of luck to your brother. I’ve run into scores of successful dyslexics, but not another who writes. I’d be curious to know what his experience has been like.
 
   For me it was a long, strange journey. Dyslexia has taken a lot from and given a lot to me.
 
   One of the most vivid memories of my childhood comes from watching my older sister read and write. How she knew to decode the symbols on a page was absolutely beyond me. How could she know that the letters ‘ough’ could make a sound like ‘f’ in at the end of a word (enough) but not at the beginning of a word (ought). It made absolutely no sense. How could ‘good’ and ‘food’ not rhyme? When angry, I would rant about how it was English–not me–that was retarded, about how English–not me–should be in special ed. And yet, when I wasn’t so furious, I felt a sense of awe about the written word. And it is magical. That sense of wonder only intensified when, much later, I learned to read and lost myself in so many fantasies. Somehow, lying alone in bed and staring at black and white symbols can transport us to distant countries and fill our minds with color. It’s that sense of wonder that I hope to share with others through my writing.
 
   Before I had a grasp of standard English spelling, I would write stories for myself in my own uber-dyslexic script. I liked that no one else could read them. I was comfortable. But when I could spell well enough to write for other people, I began to distrust my own words. I would print up a paper for school and would read it over and over and over for misspellings. But when I turned it in, it would come back bleeding red ink. That distrust became habitual. Even now, I distrust every sentence I write. I scrutinize them and edit them ad nauseam. Some days, I wish I didn’t do this. I’d certainly write faster if I didn’t. But there are other days I feel like my self-scrutiny helps me keep improving.
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