Let's Talk About Autism

I’m autistic with a generous dose of ADHD. If you have autism, it means you are among the 1-2% of the human population who are wired very differently. In many individuals, this can be seen via MRI of the brain and sequencing of marker genes. Autism and ADHD are something you’re born with. They are not diseases but can frequently result in suffering: A main cause of early death in autistic people is suicide.

My writing is shaped by how I experience this world that isn’t made for people like me: Real-life social interactions drain the lifeblood out of me. Sensory overload is a big problem, so much so that my system went into shutdown up to three times a week via epileptic seizures for thirty years of my life. I prefer writing to talking, silence and solitude over parties, and a friendly nod over a handshake or a hug (my family is a big exception, they get tons of cuddles). I collect information like a dragon would gold, and find small talk as incomprehensible as politicking and manipulating people. I abhor all moulds society created to press people into.

Yep, my brain might be a little difficult, but I love it the way it is.

When you read one of my newsletters and wonder why the heck I’m starting yet another crazy new project and how the bloody hell I’m juggling them all: That’s just how I’m wired. My executive function skills are very different to those of neurotypical people. Picture the executive function section in your brain like the admin office where plans and shopping lists are made, where you lay out your day, week, or month, and decide what to do next. My admin office is a pinball machine where disciplined-me is trying to organise a pile of scrap paper into a filing system, while creative-me keeps letting in hordes of squirrels on speed (aka exiting new ideas, information, and research projects). It’s constant chaos. Somehow, it all works out at the end, but it takes a boatload of energy, which was one reason for an epic burnout that started five years ago. The problem with burnout in autistic people is that we can lose cognitive skills. Some autistic people stop speaking altogether or have problems coordinating their movements.

I lost the part of my empathy that I needed to write good character dynamics. I lost the sense of what is a well-told story. I lost my synesthesia — flavours connected to words — just like Micka in the 1/2986 Series. The confidence to write anything worthwhile was gone. I’m still climbing out of that dark hole, and it will probably be another year until I’m back to “normal” — whatever that might be.

All of this inspired me to write Morgan of The Adventures of the Basement Detectives and is the reason why my protagonists see the world differently