It’s always tricky to self-diagnose a disorder, especially when there’s not a definitive medical test for it. For my raging case of prosopagnosia (“face blindness”), anecdotal evidence was more than sufficient.
I easily confuse characters in movies, even if they’re on opposite sides of the country, one is pregnant, and the other is missing an ear (Vikings, Season 2). I frequently walk past friends in public places. I try to open cars that aren’t mine, but are the same color. At a concert I found a glossy head shot on the ground, so I took it with me in the autograph line. Then I asked the singer if it was a picture of her. (It had her name at the top.) I tried to get into a car with someone who wasn’t my husband. Twice. He thinks it’s a miracle I haven’t been shot yet, and he may be right.
So whenever I participated in writing groups, receiving critique for the things I could improve, physical description was always at the top of the list, mostly for its complete absence. For years I couldn’t understand why people kept bringing that up. Did anyone really notice this? Apparently so.
Not too many people know what prosopagnosia is, or care to learn to spell it. I finally learned about my disorder from, of all things, a Milla Jovovich movie. It felt like the ultimate Get Out of Jail Free card from every awkward situation I’d ever landed in; although, ironically, There Will Be Blood makes less sense now. This was no more my fault than a color blind person not knowing how to read a traffic light, and with far fewer consequences.
But to other writers, even a cognitive disorder wasn’t much of a defense for flawed writing. No matter the underlying reason, this was something I needed to work on, and they were here to help.
You may not suffer from face blindness, but no writer comes out of the gate with all pistons firing. There’s going to be some aspect of your writing that you don’t realize needs help. Find some people you trust—you’re going to need a guide to get going. Ask them to hold up a mirror and tell you what’s there. You might not even recognize yourself, but in time your eyes get better, and so does your writing, and you’ll like what you see.