When Writing Feels Hard: How the Phonological Loop Impacts Students’ Stories

A Story That Stuck

Years ago, I started working with a student who remains one of my all-time favorites. He was bright, witty, and endlessly creative. But like so many students, he struggled with processing speed and working memory—and those challenges showed up most clearly in his writing.

His teachers often gave him the same feedback: “We need more details.” What they didn’t realize was that his mind was full of details. The problem was keeping those ideas alive long enough to capture them on paper.

The Phonological Loop in Action

Let’s pause here for a quick brain-science moment.

The phonological loop is part of working memory that acts like an “inner voice.” When we hold a thought in mind, we repeat it silently to ourselves until we can do something with it.

For example: a student might think of a sentence they want to write, and keep it “active” by repeating it in their head until it hits the page.

But here’s the catch: when too many demands come in at once—spelling, handwriting, organizing ideas—the phonological loop can overload. That’s when students lose their thought midstream, or freeze because the juggling act is just too much. We call this cognitive overload.

And that’s exactly what was happening for this student.

Shifting the Process

Instead of pushing harder, we looked for ways to lighten the load:

• Using voice-to-text so his ideas could flow without disappearing.

• Practicing editing steps so revising wasn’t overwhelming.

• Building word choice tools (like a thesaurus) to stretch beyond the default “awesome.”

Once we cleared some of the hurdles, his imagination came alive. Want to see how these strategies came to life for one student?

One day, I pulled out this  picture prompt: a boy biting into a gingerbread house. That single image sparked one of the most memorable stories I’ve ever worked on with a student.

He created a character called The Great Crier—a giant baby who terrorized a candy village by devouring gingerbread houses. His opening line still makes me smile:

“In a dark and gloomy world there was only destruction and sadness because……The Great Crier. The Great Crier is a giant baby that terrorises the village by eating  gingerbread houses. Regular size humans lived in a village of candy. The villagers often wondered if their house was next”.

Not long after, his teacher used one of his pieces as a classroom example of excellent writing. It was such a proud moment—for him, his family, and for me as his coach.

Why This Matters

Stories like his remind us that when students “don’t add enough details,” the issue may not be motivation or effort. It’s often about working memory limits—and the supports we put in place can mean the difference between frustration and breakthrough.

With the right tools, students can finally show the brilliance that’s been there all along.