How I write part 2: A deeper look

Looking over last night’s blog, I thought perhaps I should delve into a little bit more detail to get the point across…

Life has not been easy for me as an autistic individual for many reasons, but today I want to focus on the positives! Many people think that, because I am autistic I struggle with creativity or empathy and all the usual sorts, however, I have one thing on my side.

I live in my own little world.

As a writer, this is a blessing and one I want to share with the rest of the world, or at least, anyone who wants to take a gander into my world!

I started writing when I was a kid. I honestly couldn’t tell you how long ago because I’ve been writing and telling stories for a long as I can remember, it’s a part of who I am, always has been. In a sense, it is my coping stategy. I work two jobs, albiet not easily, and thought I don’t look outwardly autistic (or so I’m told at least. I’ve always found that expression highly insulting.) I have days when I physically and mentally cannot cope.

I’d like you, if you can, to imagine a world filled with noise. It’s not too difficult as the world is full to bursting with it. Let’s take a supermarket for example. You have the basic noises; shop radio, and customers chatting. That’s two noises fighting for dominance. In the background there are the roll of trolley wheels; a ssssss of noise against the smooth flooring – flooring I might add, that is shiny, and reflects the bright and harsh halogenic lights from the cieling. Then there are children, crying, laughing, screaming, shouting, running and sliding, and skipping around in the supermarket, followed by someone shouting at them to behave. You are aware of all of this; including the brightly coloured everything on the shelves. It’s been a long day; you’ve been working hard all day but you are the only person where you work who speaks the language you do. Everyone at work or school or college laughs at something you don’t find funny, and then sends you strange looks when you don’t laugh along. At least, you think it’s a strange face; you can’t understand that facial expression, despite seeing it before. But because of that, you know you won’t be invited to the office party. Okay, you didn’t want to go, but it would be nice to know you were wanted there.

You reach the aisle you’re looking for. It has your favourite snacks in it. Your favourite. And you are really really hungry. You didn’t have time for break or lunch because you’re behind on work. Mostly because it takes a little longer to make sure you understand what is expected of you and you don’t feel comfortable enough with your boss enough to ask for help. She might laugh; or fire you. And you need the cash.

You reach the aisle. Everything has been moved around. You begin to panic.

You would ask someone for help, but everyone looks busy; or mean….

No! Wait! There’s someone.

Oh, but there’s a tension headache building up because of those bright bulbs and the shouting people.

The someone asked you something. Maybe it was “How can I help you?” but you couldn’t focus. It’s hard to process all this at once. You hope for the best and try to ask.

“Uh, do you know where the….such and such are?”

It turns out they don’t stock them anymore. Very few people were buying it. YOu’ve bought it for years though and love them. The taste is unique and not too overbearing on your tongue. You panick. You burst into tears. You cry. Or scream. It’s impossible to deal.

Everyone stares.

Is this twenty-something year old throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get their snack?

No. This twenty-something year old is having a meltdown because they have to deal with all of this on a similar level every single day without the ability to switch off.

It’s maddening.

So, contrary-wise. Imagine how it feels to get in. Slip on your noise reducing headphones and play something beautiful. That song with the twinkling parts and the soft, lilting tune that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up on end. It feels safe, comforting. Like home. You boot up the laptop with soft hum. A gentle vibrating hum that feels nice and warm on your knees. You take a deep breath, your bedroom door shut – keeping out the world. It’s just you and your online friends. No speaking – no body language to focus on, just words and music. Mixing together in a beautiful symphony. These are people you’ve added. People you feel safe around. People no-one is forcing you to talk to or be around.

And there is Openoffice; a blank white sheet. Desperate and begging for creativity. You can almost see the words before you type them. It’s like a meditation and you write and type down the world you wish you could escape to; the better place where everything fits into one neat little package. Where everything makes sense to you… because the other one does not….

So, imagine how I feel, when I finish one part of my world, and a publisher emails me back saying yes. Yes, they want to show my world to the world….

Won’t you come and experience my world with me?