The obstacle isn’t your ability—it’s the approach you’ve been taught to use.
For years, Corissa Grant wanted to be a writer.
There was one problem.
She was dyslexic.
Writing was difficult. Spelling was especially difficult. As a child, her mother even bought her an electronic spelling checker. There was just one problem with the solution: Corissa sometimes couldn't spell a word closely enough for the device to figure out what she was trying to spell.
The conclusion seemed reasonable.
Maybe writing simply wasn't something she could do professionally.
Today, Corissa writes the Worthy Chaos comic series.
What changed?
Not her dyslexia.
What changed was how she wrote.
When the Method Becomes the Limitation
We often confuse two statements: "I can't do this" and “I can't do this, this way.”
They sound similar. They lead to very different conclusions. If I can't do something, perhaps I've reached the limit of my ability. If I can't do it this way, the problem may not be my ability at all. The problem may be the method.
Corissa didn't begin by sitting down and trying to write a novel. She started participating in online role-playing games. At first, her responses might be a line. Then they became a few sentences. Eventually she was writing hundreds of words at a time.
At some point, someone pointed out something Corissa hadn't really recognized herself:
She was writing.
The activity she thought she couldn't do was something she was doing. She just wasn't doing it in the form she associated with being a “writer.” Eventually those few sentences became hundreds of words, then thousands.
The limitation hadn't disappeared.
She had found another way around it.
Technology Didn't Give Her the Vocabulary
Something else Corissa said during our conversation struck me. She has a large vocabulary. She knows complicated words. She doesn't necessarily know how to spell them. Before tools such as Google and voice recognition became readily available, that created a problem. She sometimes had to simplify her own writing because she couldn't spell the word she wanted to use well enough to look it up.
As she put it, she had to "dumb down" her writing.
Today, if she can pronounce the word, her phone can often find it for her. If she can get close enough, Google can help.
Think about what that means. The technology didn't give her the idea. It didn't give her the vocabulary or the story. It removed a bottleneck between what was in her mind and her ability to express it.
We describe tools in terms of what they allow us to do. Sometimes their value is in removing something that was preventing us from doing what we were already capable of doing.
Are You Solving the Wrong Problem?
Suppose we had defined Corissa's problem as, how do we make a dyslexic person spell better? There are things we could do: Tutoring, practice, spelling exercises, specialized instruction.
Some might help.
What if the actual objective is: How do we enable Corissa to tell stories?
That's a different problem. Once the problem changes, the possible solutions change. Maybe perfect spelling isn't necessary. Maybe she can dictate, software can correct spelling, or another person can do the editing. Maybe she can begin with a form of writing that feels natural to her, and develop from there.
The spelling problem is real.
Solving it may not be necessary to achieve the objective.
That's why defining the problem matters.
Sometimes we spend enormous amounts of effort trying to overcome a limitation because we've assumed the limitation has to be overcome. Maybe it doesn't.
Maybe we can go around it.
“It's Working for Me”
There was another moment in my conversation with Corissa that takes this idea further. A friend told her that her therapist thought Corissa might have ADHD. Her friend pointed to Corissa's tendency to become intensely fixated on things. Corissa's response was simple:
“It's working for me.”
That doesn't mean ADHD, or any condition or characteristic, doesn't create problems for someone.It doesn't mean every limitation should be embraced. Corissa's response raises a useful question:
When does something about us actually need to be fixed?
Other independent comic creators thought Corissa's approach was excessive. She says many creators release three, four, perhaps five projects a year. She does seven or eight.
They made fun of the amount of merchandise she created.
Then, according to Corissa, some of those same people started asking her where she had the merchandise made. The characteristic someone else sees as excessive may be part of what allows you to do something they don't. We should look at the outcome before deciding there's a problem.
The Standard Way Isn't Necessarily the Right Way
We create standard ways of doing things for good reasons. They work for a lot of people. Schools teach students in particular ways. Businesses develop processes. Professions develop best practices. Software creates workflows. Organizations create procedures.
Standards make complicated systems manageable. But there's an easy mistake to make:We can confuse a way that works, with the way it must be done. Then, when someone struggles with the method, we conclude that the person is the problem.
Maybe they are.
That's a hypothesis, not a conclusion.
Before deciding that someone lacks the ability to accomplish something, try separating the objective from the conventional method used to reach it.
What are we trying to accomplish?
Which part is essential?
Which part is how we've traditionally done it?
And what happens if we change that part?
Find the Constraint
This applies far beyond dyslexia or writing.
Maybe you think you're terrible at public speaking, when what you actually struggle with is memorizing a speech. Maybe you think you're bad at exercise, when what you hate is going to a gym.
Maybe you think you can't run a business because you're terrible at selling to strangers, while you may be exceptionally good at building relationships with people who already know your work.
Maybe you think you can't learn something because you struggle to absorb it from a textbook, but you understand it immediately when you build something with your hands.
In each case, the first interpretation makes you the problem.
The second identifies a constraint, and constraints can be redesigned.
Ask a Different Question
Corissa became the thing she once thought dyslexia prevented her from becoming: A professional writer. She didn't have to stop being dyslexic first. She found a process that allowed her to write anyway.
When you find yourself saying:
“I can't do that.”
add two more words:
“…that way.”
Then ask:
What am I trying to accomplish?
What specifically is preventing me from doing it?
Is that constraint inherent to the goal, or only to the method I'm using?
Sometimes the thing holding you back isn't your ability.
It's the assumption that there's only one way to do it.
Listen or Watch
Apple Podcasts • YouTube • Spotify
Learn More About Corissa Grant and Worthy Chaos Comics
Worthy Chaos Devastation Comics
https://worthychaoscomics.com/
Kickstarter
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthychaoscomics/worthy-chaos-devastation
Worthy Chaos Redemption Books 1 & 2 plus HARDCOVERS (Issues 1-12)
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthychaoscomics/worthy-chaos-redemption-hardcover
Editor’s Note
This article is based on my podcast interview with Corissa Grant. The ideas discussed here originate from that conversation. The structure, emphasis, and commentary are my own. Any errors or interpretations should be attributed to me, not to Corissa Grant.
About the Author
Daniel Stih (danielstih.com) is an aerospace engineer, software engineer, indoor environmental consultant, and author of 12 books. For more 30 years, he has investigated complex problems spanning engineering, technology, the built environment, and human decision-making. His work explores how evidence, assumptions, and systems shape the conclusions we draw—and whether we're solving the right problem. Learn more about his approach in Why I Think This Way.