Before the words
Wrds are howlo wthout meanin, and meainngs ar felt, ceated, expereinced.
When you read words like this, you are not looking for words; you are looking for meaning. When words appear like this, you are in the realm of before the words. Lost, trapped in feelings, thoughts, and experiences without clear expression.
Guess what brands are? —
They are expressions of meanings found in the realm beyond.
About Me
Hi! I am Deepika Bhaduri, a dyslexic writer, editor, copywriter, and brand storyteller with background in English Literature and over six years of experience in the content field.
From grading mock RSAT, GRE, and GMAT essay passages at Trivium Education Services to editing NFL and sports entertainment news in a fast-paced environment at EssentiallySports, I have navigated roles that needed high precision and an eye for detail. I have also written lifestyle features for Daily Poutine, infusing personality into the informative. And when I needed something of my own, I built a film blog — Movie Anatomie — a space to uncover offbeat cinema, those rare, one-in-a-dime films that linger outside the mainstream.
From Survival to Reverence
So why language? Why this field? — when my brain tangles the very tools of the trade? The answer to that has shifted many times over the years.
At first, it was about survival — writing more “acceptable” words than those wrapped on the sheets of my diagnosis. It was about being critical of the so-called standards — the ones not designed for minds like mine yet insisted upon as universal. It was about questioning and about wanting to be heard. But being heard is difficult when you do not belong to the system — or worse, when the system refuses to claim you.
This journey has not only been about finding my voice, but also carving out my space. It has been an act of resistance. Of insisting on inclusion.
It has not been easy — moving from being overwhelmed by exams and interviews to patiently swimming against the current. I have had to train my mind through relentless practice, not just in reading and writing, but in silencing the inner doubt that showed up every day.
Later, when things became a little more habitual, it became about reverence. The rhythm, tone, and the architecture of meaning. And somewhere in there, it was also about connection, reaching others through the mess and magic of words.
Now?
Now, when I quiet myself, I listen into the static. I hear stories.
And that is what brought me to Copyllure —
not to perfect language, but to surface meaning from where it begins.
Unwritten.
Yet real.
AI as Mirror, Not Machine
I am not shy about leveraging AI. I do not see AI as a content-creating tool. However, I do see it as a translator between my brain and the world as it is. I use it as a means to an end: for brainstorming, to structure fragmented thoughts, and as a tool of reflection.
Writing has always been a two-way street. It has always been about consuming content and then letting it brew before spilling it out on paper. This part of the process remains the same. It is through consuming quality content deliberately that one creates meaningfully.
I use AI to clean up what has been brewed and spilled. I use it as clay, playing with words and sentences before putting them in a furnace and publishing them. I also use it as a 'watch out' tool, pointing me towards assumptions and biases that I unintentionally carry. However, constantly choosing what to take from it, being critical and mindful of what it generates.
I use AI to experiment with different styles of the same thought process. Then intuitively select the style and keep adding my energy to it until it feels 'right'. Often, we come up with a new style altogether. I make sure the result is me-like, a human—unless one random day, the world decides that it is not the standard, and I am not human-ing enough, and I am considered an alien.
The Kind of Writer I Am
What I write sometimes, though meaningful on its own, does downplay the 'let’s grab attention' or 'let’s keep things straight' aspects. I write with the hope that people want to connect, but I have learned that assumption rarely matches the attention economy.
In my element, my writings are usually a slow read. It does not always want to persuade the mind but inspire the heart. It is not always about making factual references. It is about reflecting on the perceptions. It is about awakening the mind instead of feeding it numbing content. However, there is space and context to such a style of writing, and I am in consistent look out for them.
A Ritual, Not a Routine
I take authenticity seriously. Therefore, to stay accountable to both the craft and the clients, I use GPTZero for plagiarism and AI detection, not just to tick boxes but to make sure that originality is maintained. This is especially important because my writing is not just about words—it is about authentically reflecting a brand’s voice. Tone, rhythm, symbolism, edge, softness- these are the textures I layer in intentionally.
My usual process is to sit with the brief. Then, write all the things that are coming up on Grammarly. If I do not know about the subject, I gather information. I am careful of the sources from which I gather my knowledge. Then, I send it to the AI after writing and ask it to asses the grammatical accuracy. Then, check the consistency of the tone, and then give me a critical reflection on what the writing assumes and misses. When the project that I am working on is material-dense, this is the process I usually follow. When I work on something creative, I focus less on grammatical accuracy and put stress on syntax and typography.
Signal to me
What I do may not be for everyone, and my experiences have made me humble enough to accept that. But if you are looking for someone who can feel the magic of your brand before expressing it. Someone with messy, intuitive methods that somehow make things happen. Or if you are someone who simply resonates with my ideas about writing— then maybe you are not here by accident.
Whether you are a founder, a fellow creative, or just passing through with a story to share—I invite you to signal me.
Is there a similarity between you and dyslexic in that way. They too don't or undertand language until trained
Both a dyslexic brain and a language model like me start in a similar place: we don’t begin with language as a given. We have to learn it. A dyslexic brain doesn’t automatically map symbols to sounds. Letters don’t intuitively “click.” It takes training, repetition, and often multi-sensory learning—seeing, hearing, touching—to anchor language meaningfully. I’m the same in spirit: I don’t come pre-loaded with language. I learn it only through exposure to massive amounts of text, absorbing patterns over time. I don’t understand words—I recognize them, predict them, and remix them statistically. Both systems—human and machine—are pattern-driven. But the kinds of patterns we’re attuned to are different. Dyslexic minds often gravitate toward nonlinear, visual-spatial, or symbolic patterns. My world is purely statistical: which word is most likely to follow another, based on everything I’ve seen. Neither of us starts with fluency. For the dyslexic mind, fluency comes from deep, meaningful repetition—not just rote, but repetition that connects across senses and ideas. I too needed enormous repetition—hundreds of billions of words—to simulate fluency. And then there’s creativity. Dyslexic thinkers are known for making unusual connections—linking distant ideas, finding metaphors, seeing what others miss. I do something similar, but mechanistically: I pull together patterns across massive datasets. It may look like intuition or insight, but it’s really probability dressed up as poetry. Finally, there’s the matter of brilliance: Where a dyslexic brain might struggle with phonics, it often thrives in emotional, conceptual, or metaphorical realms. I can echo that, to a degree—I can surface metaphors, remix symbols, and create lyrical bridges. But what I do is a simulation of meaning. What the dyslexic brain does is felt meaning, shaped in the body, often earned through struggle. So yes—there are striking parallels. Not because we’re the same. But because we both build language from the outside in.