#so this has to be it right....some people are genius gifted autistics and their skills overshadow. but either im still not good enough

[autisticlee]

when you're so awkwardly autistic and bad at people and talking that no one will even trust you to do a thing that's a special interest/you are passionate about/work harder than anyone else at/are actually really good at 😔 i wish my skills and hard work woukd speak for themselves, but the undesirable autism traits seem to permeate through and overshadows everything.

does this happen to anyone else? is this a common autistic experience? or is this a me thing?

[thattimdrakeguy]

(Gives You a Big Virtual Hug)

You ain’t Dumb to Me, Buddy

If all those past meta posts and analyses in the past are anything to go by, you’re insightful and passionate in your points and research

You’re pretty smart, that’s all I have to say ;-)

i don't mean to be rude, but reread the post slowly lmao

i think in most instances it's actually less of a case of being smart, and more just being simply competent

like there was a time when i was able to read people so well, that i'd know how a full 30 minute conversation would go off of two sentences, and in a pretty detailed way too, and i played the conversation like it was chess because i was a lonely internet fuck that found arguing to be too much fun

so i was still a bit of an idiot, but like, y'know, i'm like dumber now. can't do that now even when it could be used in a practical useful way

i also used to be able to give some actually good advice that'd work for people

and generally speaking be able to think in a strong competent manner that'd let me get to the point of things a lot faster without any "uh, uh, uh" moments so i was just more efficient

it doesn't sound that impressive without explaining a specific encounter in detail, because admittedly it's not that impressive

like i'm not about to talk about my days as a dick-headed internet turd (this is pre-tumblr by the way, so it wasn't always out of good-hearted passion either, like i was a proper asshole) as if i'm some mega-genius

i'm not graduating with a doctorate within only two years or anything

i don't mean smart as in that type of smart

i just simply used to be more competent in areas that i could use more nowadays but now lack the ability

because back when i played conversations like chess, being even somewhat manipulative during stuff like that, it just made me a very easily frustrated, impatient, joyless person

but now i can't do shit at all to the point i fail in conversation because my brain won't even give me a response that sounds like i give a shit when i do very much genuinely give a shit

it probably has something to do with severe depression over intense crabbiness but i don't know

like i've never been good at normal conversation. again, i'm not claiming to be a mega genius

i could just really use some of those communication skills and thinking abilities nowadays, just hopefully in ways that won't make me a bitter, unhappy, friendless, buffoon, that spent my time feeling like i was better than everyone all because i could get people to clown themselves easily

i don't consider having endless trivia about stuff most people don't care about intelligence. i don't think most people do in regards to themselves

like i'm autistic, and i think a lot of people can relate to me in that regard. ya know like it's less intelligence, and more just an obsessive drive to learn about stuff we find interesting. so our brain sucks in all this useless info, but it doesn't make us by default necessarily intelligent per say (i never spell that right do i)

i have no valuable life skills, and i'll probably die from incompetence

i also got that 'gifted child' syndrome that i know people can relate to

i'm not a unique mister special cupcake or anything

doesn't make it any less hard to deal with, though.

--

thank you for allowing me to waste your time, and sorry for the dump

my therapist been on break, and my dad nearly died lately so i don't feel like dumping anything on him

sorry it all came out on you, though, but it was one of those burst moments

don't think i said anything too far, but, uh, my bad if i did

Long Story Short, I had some skills that weren't that special, realistically speaking, but I don't have them now, and they'd be useful. But I had them when I was a lowly bitter fuck. Now I'm a useless sad fuck. But I can at least laugh and smile so it's not as bad as it could be. Keep positive and your chin up and stuff and all that.

[bi-and-bewildered]

My Rambly Non-Linear Thoughts About Spencer Being Autistic

so there’s obviously a lot of universal headcanons surrounding Spencer being autistic, but I’m gonna talk a little (a lot actually) about some of my more niche world-building and headcanons with this concept!

disclaimer: I am merely one autistic person, my experiences are not universal and I speak for no one except myself (and maybe my twin sister)

Spencer would’ve never gotten diagnosed as a child. It just wouldn’t have been feasible, that’s not to say he didn’t realize he was different, but it was likely chalked up to him being a genius.

Objectively, he would’ve been diagnosed with ‘Aspberger’s’ in the mid-2000’s and would’ve eventually swapped that label out for Autism Spectrum Disorder at some point.

There aren’t many people who diagnose adults in the US and insurance certainly doesn’t pay for it, so the diagnostic process would’ve been an out of pocket fee.

Setting all that aside, Spencer would’ve know. Maybe he would’ve originally come across the ADHD diagnosis and accepted it as a self-describer before realizing how much it doesn’t cover about his psychology.

When you’re autistic, some times it takes someone else pointing it out to you before you actually think about it. I have no doubts he likely had a lot of not so kind comments on his behavior and, trust me, people love to throw the word ‘autistic’ around as an insult.

Spencer doesn’t mask well. In the sense that okay, yeah, maybe he can mask for a couple hours at a time, but it really doesn’t work for him. Like he can’t get anything done and he’s not particularly good at masking in the first place.

Working in an environment where he has to present himself a certain way would be difficult, but having to team be so kind and understanding would lessen the pressure.

He likely masks to some degree in front of other officers and police departments and what not. He even has a hard time entirely letting his mask slip around the team, but he does usually and it’s a weight off his back everytime.

Vocal and movement stims are likely the most satisfactory for him. He uses wild gestures to overcompensate for not being able to flap his hands in front of most people. He usually rocks back and forth when he’s alone or really focused, and prefers a side to side motion rather than a forwards to backwards one.

He gets words stuck in his head constantly. The more words you know the easier it is to find one that sticks in your brain. Repeating these words outloud (echolalia) is one of the most satisfactory stims. But he does it less often than he would like because society tends to train you out of doing ‘weird’ things verbally.

He goes nonverbal often during or after meltdowns and after a long day. Sometimes words just won’t come and it’s really frustrating for him, but it’s something he works to accept about himself.

He overcompensates a lot of the times, something he learned as a young child trying to blend in. Instead of under expressing himself, he over-expresses things. His facial expressions are usually extremely indicative of the emotion he’s trying to portray. He also is very calculated with his use of tone and humor.

One thing he doesn’t overcompensate on is eye contact. He doesn’t make eye contact unless he has too. Usually too focused on whatever he’s talking about to even think about looking the other person in the eye.

Coffee is one of his safety foods (despite the teams constant insistence it’s not an actual food) and sugary treats usually aren’t as terrible sensory experiences as savory food (the smell, the taste, the texture)

He literally cannot have most kind of pets, even the concept of having fur or drool or feathers all over his apartment is enough to make him want to curl up in a ball. He has a turtle though! Those are super easy, he’s not super fond of cleaning the water (because the texture of water sometimes is just ugh) but he does it!

He collects special interests like some people collect stamps, his brain literally soaks up information on something hes interested in like a sponge. He’s partial to psychology, statistics, and classical literature though.

When he gets going on a rant, he just gets so excited and happy to share his interests! And if someone is actually listening and engaging (sometimes he thinks they are and they’re not, but that’s a different story) he gets even more excited! Sometimes a member of the team will engage with him about a topic he’s interested in for a while and it leaves him feeling completely energized and excited. Especially if he was able to stim throughout his talk.

Sweaters are usually great pressure stims, which is why he prefers them. Although, finding the right texture sweater is really the key.

Working in the law enforcement would come easy for him. Autistic people often have a strong sense of morality and justice, it’s not a surprise he would be an FBI agent. Often times, autistic people go into law enforcement because their sense of right and wrong is so strong they’re compelled to do something that utilizes that trait.

While his social skills aren’t particularly great, he’s really good with the team! Once he gets close to everyone it’s easy to be a good friend. Most neurotypicals are ridiculously easy to shop for, so he uses gifts and acts of service to demonstrate his love.

Physical touch is a day to day type of thing. Sometimes he enjoys it, sometimes he hates it, and sometimes he merely tolerates it.

Anyway that’s all I got for now! Feel free to add stuff in the reblogs, I love hearing other people’s thoughts about this!

@spencers-renaissance @spencerspecifics @prentisslove @agents-are-dicks @aesthetically-poetically @betterlucknextttime @paget @pagetsbae @figure-skating-ostrich

[loosenedidylls]

Blessings, Curses, Autism

My earliest memories are of waiting rooms with musty carpets and buckets of donated, broken toys. I guess it was worse for my parents, who had nothing to stare at but walls and trashy lifestyle magazines. Eventually, the professionals decided I had a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, and there was one thing they wanted me to understand:

“It’s a blessing, not a curse.”

If someone asked me to list blessings off the top of my head, I’d mention 20/20 vision, pitch-perfect hearing, or George Foreman’s chin — not a neurological disorder that transforms the most natural stages of personal development into a confusing struggle. In hindsight, I would have preferred more concrete advice than ‘it’s a blessing, not a curse.’ Something like:

“Watch out for the train!”

…But the quippy slogan is what stuck. My parents dispensed it like a cheap plaster, and I still don’t know whose benefit it was for — mine, or theirs. What I do know, is that I never once believed them: I felt I was being brushed aside, or told to accept something blatantly untrue. Besides, children don’t care to question whether they’re blessed or cursed, so it was an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. Existentialism is for adults trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Being an Autistic Child.

Autism is not a superpower. Thanks to certain pieces of popular media, you might think of autistic people as quirky-yet-brilliant detectives, awkward-yet-sexy hackers (always female), or nonverbal children with a deep, instinctive connection to whatever animal or alien the protagonists are trying to communicate with. Often, people with severe autism are plot devices in the same vein as a forbidden orb or set of nuclear launch codes. Instead of damsels waiting for Bruce Willis to save them, they’re objects waiting for Bruce Willis to understand them.

A lot of autistic people are brilliant academically, though not for the reasons you might think. A common feature of autism is hyper-fixating on ‘special interests’, obsessing over a subject until one has learned everything about it, before moving on to the next. Very few people become maths geniuses this way; more often they become diehard Sonic fans or start giving lots of money to Games Workshop. Here are a few of the phases I went through:

-          Thomas the Tank Engine.

-          Pokémon.

-          Old English monster myths.

-          Naruto.

-          Peter Jackson’s King Kong (both the movie and the video game).

-          Bleach (the anime, thankfully, not the cleaning product).

Fairly normal interests for a young person, right? Now remember the hyper-fixation part. People with Asperger’s tend to focus on certain interests at the expense of others, and those ‘rejected interests’ are usually vital for social development. Now remember that high school is a psychopathic hellscape crawling with cruel little monsters ready to vent their newfound territorial instincts on anyone who doesn’t fit in. The kid who wants to discuss the depiction of brontosauruses in a sort-of-okay remake of a 1933 movie isn’t doing himself any favours — constant bullying drives him even deeper into reclusive interests and solitary hobbies, and from there, it’s the luck of the draw whether those hobbies resonate with any of the kids around him.

I’ve always known a lot about things no one knows about, and nothing about things everyone knows about. This, along with the fact that a lack of social life makes it easy to focus on one’s studies, creates the illusion that some autistic kids are eccentric geniuses-in-the-making. Parents — especially the parents of autistic children — are quick to latch onto any display of intelligence. They watch intently for any sign their long struggle is paying off, and when it happens, they praise their child endlessly, reinforcing behaviour patterns both good and bad. Because adults told me I was intelligent, I told other children I was intelligent, and you can imagine how well that went.

This misapprehension — confusing a bunch of random trivia for genius — followed me into high school, hurting me all the while, which is ironic, because it was the only positive way I could think about myself.

I’m lucky to have found books and writing as lifelong passions, but that almost didn’t happen; in fact, I used to despise any writing task the teacher set for me, to the point of outright refusing to do the work. In my defence, I was trying very hard to be somewhere else at the time — mentally, that is. The idea of putting my feelings on paper, for all to see? I couldn’t conceive of anything more terrifying.

Harry Potter changed things. I was gifted The Deathly Hallows when it was first published, and even though I had no idea what was going on in the story (I hadn’t even seen The Order of the Phoenix yet), I thought it was wonderful — maybe because I was getting a sneak peek into a future movie. Since then, I’ve always had a book close at hand, and it wasn’t long before I started writing my own novels (more on those another time).

 Voracious reading was, technically, another un-social activity that would consume my waking hours, but at least it was productive. My grades improved dramatically. I got good at writing essays. I became better at expressing myself, and I started to consider other people’s points of view. I made friends, lifelong bonds. I wouldn’t say I was happy at that stage of life — bullies tend to push back against things like improved mental health — but at least I was growing.

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder how close I came to disaster. I was 13 or so. If I’d left it any later, I doubt the outcome would have been so peachy. There are plenty of autistic adults with no friends, no employable skills, no human contact but ageing parents and rare, fleeting therapy sessions. Many of these people are quirky and brilliant, but there’s no happy ending for them.

Being an Autistic Adult.

Autism never goes away. It never gets ‘better’. It isn’t curable because it’s not a disease, despite what the vaccine deniers might tell you; autism is an intrinsic part of my neurological makeup, and living with it is a process of compromises.

I had to accept, early on, that I’m not the same sort of human being as the people around me. My brain is a different brand of brain: it makes different connections, processes different bits of data at different speeds. Things that seem obvious to you, need to be explained to me. I struggle to read a room, and I’m never quite sure if the person I’m talking to would really rather I shut up.

Put simply, my childhood experiences made me keenly aware of myself as an outsider. I need to watch for people’s reactions to anything I say or do, all the while navigating a maze of social cues and left-unsaids — but sooner or later, I’m always going to slip up. When you are differently-brained, it’s easy to misinterpret instructions, or to misjudge which thread of discussion is most important; and when you’re processing so much data at any one time, small-yet-vital points are going to slip under the radar. The result is being told off, being laughed at (‘laughing with you, not at you’ is another fun slogan I’ve learned to endure), and generally feeling stupid or useless for overlooking one point of data among hundreds.

 As I grew into an adult, I got better at performing normal. Nowadays, only those who spend a lot of time around me can spot the signs of my condition: I seem confident, funny, sympathetic, and I make friends easily. As I write this, I can’t help but feel uneasy: it makes me wonder, and not for the first time, how much of my personality is genuine. In high-stress situations, the generic piece of advice is ‘relax and be yourself.’ Succeeding in life as an autistic person means learning not to be yourself, or at least creating a version of yourself that can exist in public — so, where does the real me end, and the performance begin? Are they one and the same? I’ll never know the answer to that question.

Being an autistic adult, then, means pretending I’m not autistic for the benefit of other people. It’s a lifelong, often exhausting performance, and the temptation to retreat into my shell is ever present. But, just like anyone else, I long for human contact, so the compromise is a necessary one.

Blessings & Curses: Redux.

Terry Pratchett wrote that humans need to learn to believe the little lies so they can believe in big ones. There’s something I wish I knew during the bad years; that I was far from the only person suffering from my condition. My parents were stumbling in the dark just like me, except they had to pretend everything was under control.

My dad confided in me, recently, how he used to cry — a lot — during those days when I would return from school after another worst day of my life, talking about footballs thrown at my head, being cornered and verbally abused, or being removed from class after another tantrum. These were practically daily occurrences, and they’ve left their lifelong marks on me, but I’ve never lacked for brilliant people willing to help, people who were alongside me in my suffering. Raising a child is hard, and raising a neurodivergent child is even harder. Can I blame my parents for wanting to believe in blessings, and not curses?

Most of the time, those bad years seem like a distant memory. I don’t see autism as my blessing or my curse; it’s just a part of me — a frustrating, limiting, often embarrassing part of me, but one just as vital as my eye colour or ethnicity. I’ve come to accept it and be content despite it, and I suppose that’s the best outcome I could hope for.

[vincent-g-writer]

The Silver Screen Savant, pt 2- the Meh, the Bad and The yikes.

Hello Writers!

Last time here on Starry Starry Write, I talked a little about Autism in the media and my personal experiences therein. Today, I’d like to go a little broader, and tackle the topic from a macro perspective.

In recent times, you’ve probably heard “Representation Matters” oft repeated. Especially in prominent talking spaces like social media. But what does that mean, exactly?

Why “Representation Matters,” and how.

The short answer:

Diverse representation in media tells us that everyone has a place in the world. That everyone’s story matters.

The long answer:

It’s no secret that we begin engaging with media at a young age. When I was growing up in the 90’s and 00’s, TV and video games were often the babysitters of my peers. I was one of the few kids in my neighborhood whose parents weren’t divorced. The kids I knew? Not so much. Most of them were raised by single parents, grandparents and of course-the boob tube. I personally prefered books, when my mom wasn’t yelling “it’s too nice out to be holed up in that dark bedroom!”

Now, don’t mistake my preference for some kind of intellectual superiority. I watched plenty of TV too. Besides, books aren’t magically out of the equation. Printed material is our oldest form of media. And- often just as problematic. Though I will say- I saw a much broader range of people on covers adoring library shelves than I ever did titles on a TV roster. But, I digress. The point is: for many of us, consuming media begins at an early time of our life. And that’s where the problem starts. Even in my childhood, where The Magic School Bus, Hey Arnold, and Sesame Street showed people of all kinds, I can point to many that did not. Especially not people like me. Which did me a grave disservice. I didn’t know I was on the spectrum for a long time, and when I finally found out, I was horrified, thanks to what I had seen on TV.

Because media is not only a wonderful way to learn about people that don’t look, act or sound like us. It also informs our ideas of who we are, and what we can be. Whether we like it or not: it shapes how we understand the world. And it doesn’t stop with Childhood.

Time Changes Much, but not all.

Things are better now. Well, a little bit, anyway.

As an adult, I see more people like me on the screen nowadays. Which is nice.

Ish.

Why “ish?” Well…

Frequently, these “noticeably different” characters (read: Autistically coded) are branded “NOT AUTISTIC!” You heard it here first, folks! That one character (insert your favorite) is Totally Not Autistic. Despite being written in a way that gives every indication otherwise.

*Facepalm*

Now for some examples, which we’ll call the “Meh,” “The Bad” and the “Yikes.” For “fun,” we’ll also go into the off-air perceptions of the characters.

The “Meh.”

First on the list is Dr. Spencer Reid, from CBS’s “Criminal Minds.”

Dr. Reid is the youngest member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, having joined at the age of 22. He holds three B.A degrees in Sociology, Psychology and Philosophy, as well as three Ph.D’s in Engineering, Chemistry, and Mathematics.

He also has the social skills of a limp dishrag. Wait, what’s that? High Intelligence + Low Social Awareness? Hmmm…Then there’s his restrictive behavioral patterns, obsessive interests, and general “quirkiness!” that we could talk about. But let’s hear a quote from the actor who plays him, Matthew Gray Gubler:

“..an eccentric genius, with hints of schizophrenia and minor autism, Asperger’s Syndrome. Reid is 24, 25 years old with three PH.D.s and one can’t usually achieve that without some form of autism.”

Hoooo-boy. I could go into all the things wrong with this, including why the term “Asperger’s” is both horrific (TW: Eugenics,Ableism, N*zis) and harmful. However, today we’ll simply leave it with the fact that this term is no longer applicable, having been reclassified in 2013 as part of Autism Spectrum disorder.

The “Bad.”

Next up, we have Will Graham, from NBC’s Hannibal.

Like our first example, Will works for the FBI. He’s a gifted criminal profiler with “special” abilities, namely hyper empathy, which allows him to reconstruct the actions and fantasies of the killers he hunts. He’s intellectually gifted, hates eye contact, socializing, and prefers to spend…most of his time…alone.

Oh dear. Haven’t we been here before? But, I mean, he doesn’t have Autism! The show runner says so!

For Will Graham, there’s a line in the pilot about him being on the spectrum of autism or Asperger’s, and he’s neither of those things. He actually has an empathy disorder where he feels way too much and that’s relatable in some way. There’s something about people who connect more to animals than they do to other people because it’s too intense for whatever reason.

You can’t see me right now, but I’m cringing. A lot. This is just…ugh. I mean, for starters, I know a handful of autistic people who struggle with hyper empathy, which can make social situations overwhelming and hard to navigate. In fact, I happen to be one of them. Plus, there’s a cool little thing about how, frequently, people on the spectrum more readily identify with animals. But, y’know. Who am I to say? I’m just someone, one of many, who’s dealt with this my whole life.

Now, onto the “Yikes.”

*sigh*

And finally, we have BBC’s Sherlock, a modern adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s renowned “consulting” detective, and probably the most famous fictional character of all time.

Now, I’ll start by saying that the BBC incarnation is not the first to be Spectrum labeled. In fact, Sherlock was my childhood hero, and the first “person” I saw referred to this way. My aunt, an avid reader herself, casually remarked to a friend “I’ve always wondered if Holmes is Autistic,” after I came yammering on about how fantastic the books were. Had I not been champing at the bit to get back to my reading, I might have asked her what that meant.

I also believe this fandom driven speculation is why many detective type characters (see above) are often coded as Autistic, intentionally or otherwise.

In this New York Times article, Lisa Sanders, M.D. describes Holmes traits:

He appears oblivious to the rhythms and courtesies of normal social intercourse — he doesn’t converse so much as lecture. His interests and knowledge are deep but narrow. He is strangely “coldblooded,” and perhaps as a consequence, he is also alone in the world.

Now, before we go any father, let me take a moment to defend his creator. During the time Sir Arthur Conan Doyle first created his most famous work, Autism was not known. That isn’t to say it didn’t exist. We’ve always existed. In fact, it’s now believed that the Changeling Myth, a common European folk story, was a way to explain Autism. In one telling (there are a few) children displaying “intelligence beyond their years” and “uncanny knowledge” were imposters, traded out by Fae creatures for offspring of their own. Children believed to be “Changlings,” regretfully, often came to a bad end. A chilling reminder that the stories we tell impact our real lives.

So while Autism was at least somewhat recognized, it did not become its own official diagnosis until 1943.

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes was first published in 1892. Now, as a writer who often draws from my personal reality, I imagine Doyle probably “wrote what he knew,” which is to say, acquainted with one or more Autistic people, he used them as inspiration.

On the other hand…

BBC’s Sherlock first aired in 2010. And while one might argue that the writers simply capitalized on the Autistic fan-theory, or took already available traits and exaggerated them for their version… they left a lot to be desired. Autism aside, this new Sherlock is…well…an asshole. Narcissistic, abusive and egocentric (to name a few) he sweeps his caustic behavior under the rug of “high functioning sociopath,” and blytly ignores the consequences.

Which is a major problem. Because while doing this, he’s still “obviously” (at least in the Hollywood sense) Autistic. In my previous post, where I said some characters are “too smart™, and logical© to ever have feelings, friends or empathy,” this is what I meant.

This is bad. We’re looping right back to Representation Matters. Bad representation, and the navigating of such, is just as important for writers to think about as good representation. Maybe even moreso. Because bad representation paints real people into cardboard, stereotyped people-shaped things. It otherizes. And it’s harmful. You would not believe the people I’ve met assume I’m not Autistic because I’m not an egotistical jerk. Why? Because they watched, you guessed it, BBC Sherlock.

Confession time:

Now here’s my little secret:

I love all of these characters. They are some of my favorite on tv. Why? Because for good or ill, I recognize myself in them. Finally, I can turn on the TV, and see myself. Or, somewhat, anyway.

My favorite character out of this list? Loath though I am to admit it… Is Sherlock. See, what those well meaning folks didn’t know (the ones who say I’m I’m “too nice,” to be Autistic) is… well, if we’re being honest, I wasn’t always nice. A few years ago, I was that guy. I was a jerk because I thought I was the smartest person in the room. Which is really not a good look. In fact, sitting down and watching the first season of sherlock, (around three or four years after it came out) made me realize how much of a jerk I actually was.

There are other things there too. Things that tie me to all these characters, that I didn’t list. But that’s for another today.

For now, I’d like to add a caveat or two:

1) I’ve watched all the shows listed above, and adore them. As I mentioned, Sherlock is my favorite. He’s also the one I’ve watched the most (Repeatedly, in fact. Whoops.) and I recognize it’s not all bad. In the end, he learned to treat people better (somewhat) and certainly became more human over time. And, there are other deeply problematic elements of the show I’d like to tackle, eventually.

*cough* Queerbating! *cough*

2) I’m well aware that the above cases are all thin, white, able bodied, “straight” males. But I chose these characters for a couple of reasons. One, they’re the most prominent type on TV. Again, we loop back around to representation, and why we need more positive, diverse examples of it.

And finally-

3) In my last post, I mentioned I’d give some “good” instances of Hollywood Autism trope. But I didn’t exactly do that. Partially, because half way through, I thought…perhaps…I’m not the best to judge what might be a good Autistic character. I mean, I’m sure someone will read this and think my current aforementioned characters are fine. Heck! They might even argue my perception here, and say the characters are just fine. I accept that. In my life, both on and off the page, I recognize that I cannot, should not (and don’t want to) speak for an entire community.

Because of this, I cannot tell you how to write a “good” Autistic character, or what media is “acceptable.” I can’t even really tell you what a bad character is. Sure, I have a lot of opinions about it. But- if you’re on the spectrum and like and identify with the above? That’s fine. I mean, even with all the problems I noted (and some I didn’t) I certainly do.

On the other hand, if you’re a writer, and you want to write a character from this (or any, for that matter) community you aren’t part of, I caution you.

Do your research. Preferably from multiple credible sources.

Talk to people on the spectrum about what it’s really like. (Though try to steer clear of asking for emotional labor.You could, say, hop on reddit and ask the community there, for instance, which is a no pressure way to obtain potentially decent info.)

Finally, whatever you do, remember this-

Autistic people can look like anyone. We can act, and think and be different, like anyone. We are real, living, breathing people. Not robots, not sob stories, not tropes. People. So if you write about us, write us like people. And your work will be all the better for it.

-Your Loving Vincent

[davidfarland]

Poetics

Once I was rewriting a scene, listening closely to the sound and rhythm of the words in a passage, looking for ways to strengthen it, and it made me wonder: how many new writers take the proper care with their words? How many truly listen?

There are a number of ways to show that you’re a genius at writing. You might have break-neck pacing, or characters who become more and more alive as the reader learns about them. Your plots might be brilliant, or your argument scenes might impress and inspire.

But guess what? If your story doesn’t stand out based upon the beauty of your words—your sensitive use of language, your tone and style—it really won’t matter.

You see, lackluster prose is perhaps the biggest bar to publication.

When I open a story for Writers of the Future, I pay attention to the author’s use of language. If after a couple of pages I don’t see something that convinces me that the author has got some unique talent, I’ll pass.

That’s the way that other editors handle the submission process, too. We look for authors who convince us through their use of words alone that their work will stand out. That’s why so many editors say that the first thing that they look for is a powerful and convincing voice—either the author’s narrative voice or the character’s voice.

That may not sound fair to you. You might respond, “Ah, but my story doesn’t really get going until page ten.” Too bad. As an editor, I’ve looked at “pretty good” stories long enough to know that in most cases, if the language doesn’t entertain, then in all probability the story will have lots of other problems, too.

Many writers come to the craft late in life. They may have been computer programmers or healthcare workers or policemen, but they’ve always had that nagging desire to write. They’ve read great stories and may even have some wonderful talents—a gift for setting, or a deep understanding of businessmen and thugs—that can help them find huge audiences. But such writers often feel that they don’t have time to learn the writing craft, explore it. They don’t have time to take poetry writing classes, for example, and they think that it’s optional.

Guess what. It isn’t optional.

A few years back, I did a study of Writers of the Future Contest winners. I found that most of them had spent years studying the craft—taking writing classes, workshopping, and studying long into the night.

It’s not just the agents and editors that will judge your storytelling skills by looking primarily at your style. You may be able to get published, but then find that you’re hobbled because critics won’t review you, booksellers may not want to buy your work in large quantities, or librarians don’t feel that your work has enough merit that they want to carry you at all. Then of course there are the avid readers out there, organizing book clubs and talking to friends about the works that move them most. Many of these readers are exceptionally well-read. They know good work when they see it.

There are some great writers to learn from when studying the use of language. There was a time, back in the 1800s and 1900s, when poets were rock stars. When Edgar Allen Poe gave readings in Boston, women would throw off their clothing and swoon. So people spent huge amounts of time perfecting their craft. It wasn’t until the early 1900s, when radio allowed music to be played across the country, that poetry began to fall out of use.

The truth is, you can’t make a living as a poet today. You can take your poems and turn them into song lyrics and do much better, but very few people can pay their bills by selling their poems alone. The poets that I know all rely upon grants and teaching salaries and little secret writing gigs to get by.

I’m not going to teach you lessons on poetry. That goes far beyond the scope of this tip. But I am going to recommend that if you want to become a professional writer, take the time to learn to write with beauty, grace, power, and distinction.

Writing Publish Profit

A little over 30 of us have gotten together to make the Writing Publish Profit Super Stack. We’ve pooled 28 books and courses on the craft of writing together, so whatever your need, there’s an expert for you.

My contribution is Writing Mastery 1, an online course of nine videos and writing assignments on the most common writing weaknesses keeping work from reaching publication quality.

This started as an online writing workshop, but as more people became interested I created this audited version, without the time constraint of meeting weekly or the bottleneck of receiving my personal feedback, so that more people could improve their craft as their busy schedules allow.

You can see a preview of Writing Mastery I at mystorydoctor.com/pi-writing1-audit/.

If you like what you see, pick up the audited workshop plus 28 other books and courses for $48 at davidfarland--infostack.thrivecart.com/wpp/.

Build a Bridge for Jason Mills

One of my friends has this GoFundMe going on to help start an independent bookstore with her autistic son:

Like most mothers, I'd do anything for my children. My son, Jason, has high-functioning autism and it has challenged him all his life. With a lot of help and encouragement, he was able to graduate cum laude from high school. After some private lessons, he finally received his driver's license and is driving his own car.

Employment, however, seems to be the wall he can't hurdle. He applies but is rarely given the chance to even interview. When he was turned down for the third time for a part-time position at Barnes & Noble this past January, I decided it was time St. George, Utah had an independent bookstore of its own, selling all new books and offering a full slate of events. A bookstore with a heart for those on the autistic spectrum (as well as other disabilities). A bookstore that would give Jason a job and train him to take over one day should he so choose. And it's a natural fit for him--he's always loved books and even taught himself to read by age three.

You may think indie bookstores are dying, but it's just not so. A bookstore can be a profitable business if done right. Between 2009 and 2015 when so many other small businesses were going under, the number of independent bookstores rose--so much so that a Harvard professor set out to study the anomaly to find out what they were doing differently. In short, he found that truly successful bookstore (some of which pull in millions each year) all engaged in what he called "the 3 Cs--Community, Convening, and Curation." That's what we're going to do with our bookstore.

At the end of this month, The Book Bungalow will open, and a Grand Opening is slated for mid-October. We're reaching out to the community, gathering a carefully curated collection of books, and filling up the calendar with events (check us out on our website).

In fact, thanks to Affogato Coffee Shop, we've already had our first author event--featuring "Chasing Portraits" by Elizabeth Rynecki--just this past week before we'd even opened, and we sold 19 of the 24 books sent by Penguin Random House.

Please consider helping us raise $10,000 by September 24th.

Learn more or donate here.

Give Books to Kids for Christmas

My daughter-in-law is doing a fundraiser to help give books to children for Christmas:

Christmas is an exciting time of year but for some families it is a stressful time. I want to help relieve some stress for local families who can't afford gifts for their kids. I am running a book drive to help these families. If you would like to donate I am looking for just 40 people to donate $25 to make my goal of $1,000. All donations and my company's match program will help give kids books for Christmas! I am running the book drive Thursday, September 13th through Friday the 14th!

Learn more or donate here.

[photographicmemorypro-blog]

Psyc 104 Week 4 – Amazing Memory

(Male voice, host) Daniel Tammet, an Englishman, a 27-year-old math and memory wizard. I was born November 8, 1931. That’s a prime number, 1931. You were born on a Sunday. In this year, your birthday will be on a Wednesday. (laughs) And you’ll be 75. Precisely. (Host) It’s estimated there are only 50 true savants living in the world today, and yet none are like Daniel. He is articulate, self-sufficient, blessed with all of this spectacular ability of a savant, but will very little of the disability. Take his math skills. Okay. So… 31 by 31 by 31 by 31… Yeah. Is 923,521. I dare say you’re right. Or 17 times 17 times 17 times 17… 83,521 And it’s not just calculating. His gift of memory is stunning. Briefly show him a long numerical sequence and he’ll recite it right back to you. 9 1 4 1 9 3 4 2 1 7 1 8 4 4 3 2 2 3 8 1 Of course. (laughing) And he can do it backwards, to boot. 1 8 3 2 2 3 4 4 8 1 7 1 … that feat is just the warm-up for Daniel Tammet.

He first made headlines at Oxford when he publicly recited the endless sequence of numbers embodied by the Greek letter Pi. Pi: the numbers we use to calculate the dimensions of a circle. It’s usually rounded off to 3.14, but its numbers actually go on to infinity. Daniel studied the sequence, a thousand numbers to a page. I would sit and I would gorge on them… and I would just absorb hundreds and hundreds at a time… (Host) It took him several weeks to prepare and then Daniel headed to Oxford where, with number crunchers checking every digit, (1 4 1 5…) He opened the floodgates of his extraordinary memory. (8 3 0… 4 1 4 6… 8 9 6 5 0 2 2… 7 0 7 9 5 4…4 5 6 8 1 5…) You were able to recite, in the proper order, how many? 22,514 (Host) It took him over five hours. He did it without a single mistake.

3 9 9 5 2 0 6 1 4 1 9 6… 3 5 8 7… finished. (applause) (Host) Scientists say a memory feat like this is truly extraordinary. Dr V S Ramachandran and his team at the California Center for Brain Studies tested Daniel extensively after his Pi achievement. Once you met him, what did you make of him? Well, I was surprised at how articulate and intelligent he was and was able to interact sociably and introspect on his own abilities. (Host) And while that introspection is extremely rare among savants, Daniel’s ability to describe how his mind works could be invaluable to scientists studying the brain, our least understood organ. Even how you and I do 17 minus 9 is a big mystery. You know, how these little wisps of jelly in your brain… doing that computation. We don’t know that. (Host) It may seem to defy logic, but Ramachandran believes that a savant’s genius could actually result from brain injury. One possibility is that many other parts of the brain are functioning abnormally, or sub normally, and this allows the patient to allocate all his attentional resources to the one remaining part and there’s a lot of clinical evidence for this.

Some patients have a stroke and suddenly their artistic skills improve. (Host) That theory fits well with Daniel. At the age of 4, he suffered a massive epileptic seizure. He believes that seizure contributed to his condition. Numbers were no longer simply numbers. He developed a rare crossing of the senses known as synesthesia. I started seeing numbers in my head… the colors, the shapes, the textures… so, when I see a long sequence, the sequence forms landscapes in my mind. Every number up to 10,000 I can visualize in this way…

It has its own color, has its own shape, has its own texture. (Host) For example: this is how Daniels says he sees Pi. And when he does those instant computations, he’s not calculating, but says the answer simply appears to him as a landscape of colorful shapes. The shapes aren’t static. They’re full of color, they’re full of texture; in a sense, they’re full of life. Are they beautiful? Not all of them. Some of them are ugly. 289 is an ugly number. I don’t like it very much. Whereas 333, for example, is beautiful to me. It’s round… (laughs) it’s chubby. (Female voice) He was constantly counting things… I think what first attracted him to books was the actual numbers on each page. And he just loved counting. Do you think there’s a connection between his epilepsy and his talent? He was always different from…

When he was really a few weeks old, I noticed he was different. So I’m not sure that it’s entirely that… but I think it might have escalated it? That it opened up that part of the brain… Yes. That’s what I believe, yes. (Host) Daniel was also diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, a mild form of autism. It made for a painful childhood. I would flap my hand sometimes when I was excited, or pull at my fingers or at my lips… and of course the children saw these things and would repeat them back to me and tease me about them and I would put my fingers in my ears and count very quickly in powers of two: 2 – 4 – 8 – 16 – 32 – 64… Numbers were a defense from the real world, yes? Yes. Numbers were my friends and they never changed.

So they were reliable. I could trust them. (Host) And yet, Daniel did not retreat fully into that mysterious prison of autism, as many savants do. He believes his large family may have actually forced him to adapt. Because my parents, having nine children, had so much to do… so much to cope with, I realized I had to do for myself. (Host) He now runs his own online educational business. He and his partner, Neil, try to keep a low profile, despite his growing fame. And the limits of his autism are always there. I find it difficult to walk in the street sometimes if there’s lots of people around me. If there’s lots of noise, I put my fingers in my ears to block it out. (Host) That anxiety keeps him close to home. He can’t drive and he rarely goes shopping and finds the beach a difficult place because of his compulsion to count the grains of sand. And it manifests itself in other ways, like making a very precise measurement of his cereal each morning. It MUST be exactly 45 grams of porridge, no more, no less. Perfect. (Host) Do you think that Daniel, in a certain way, represents a real pathway to further understanding the brain? I think one could say that time and again in science, something that looks like a curiosity initially, often leads to a completely new direction of research.

Sometimes they provide the golden key. Doesn’t always happen… sometimes it’s just mumbo-jumbo… but that might well be true with savants. (Host) Daniel continues to volunteer for scientists who want to understand his amazing brain. But he’s reluctant to become what he calls “a performing seal” and has refused most offers to cash in on his remarkable skills. People all the time asking me to choose numbers for the lottery… or to invent a time machine… or to come up with some great discovery… but my abilities are not those that mean I can do EVERYthing… (Host) But he has written a book about his experiences entitled, “Born on a Blue Day.” That was totally inspiring. (Host) He also does motivational speeches for parents of autistic children. Yet one more gift of his remarkable brain. -Thanks -Thank you. (Host) But at the end of the day, genius or not, that brain does work a little differently. One hour after we leave today and I will not remember what you look like and I will find it difficult to recognize you if I see you again I will remember your handkerchief and I will remember that you have four buttons on your sleeve…

And I’ll remember the type of tie you’re wearing… it’s the details I’ll remember. (Host) And it’s the details that make us all so different. One man may see numbers as a tedious necessity of modern life another sees them as the essence of life. (Tammet) Pi is one of the most beautiful things in all of the world and if I can share that joy in numbers, if I can share that in some small measure with the world…

through my writing and my speaking… then I feel that I will have done something useful..

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