This post is about autism and how it may affect the ability to narrate. Points made may not apply to other individuals on the spectrum and are NOT meant to imply that narration is a prolem for all autistics.
Narration or the Lack of it
A fear of death drives us to become narrators, to transform the disconnected chaos of our sensorium into representative mental texts whose distinct scenes contain recognisable characters that act in coherent plots. -Matthew Belmonte, More Than Human
Familiar narrative structures include the three discrete acts structure (beginning, middle and end), primary literary categories (poem, novel, play), and specific fiction and nonfiction genres. Meaning is found in the overarching message these narratives convey.
Even everyday stories are usually told in three acts and, while some people are better at storytelling than others, most can construct a narrative without giving it a whole lot of thought. The neurobiology of narration, however, isn't as straightforward as we might expect.
According to Belmonte, our ability to narrate depends on the "coordination of activity amongst widely separated brain regions." In autism, Belmonte writes, brain regions that are "more or less intact" may not be "coordinated or modulated in response to cognitive demands."
This is essentially a networking issue where "a disrupted neural organisation implies disrupted narrative organisation." (Belmonte)
This is not to say that the narratives of neurotypical people are necessarily better or more authentic than that of autistics. Only that, as a group, neurotypicals find the stories themselves easier to organize and construct.
Writers on the Spectrum
It is simple, to ache in the bone, or the rind — But gimlets — among the nerve — Mangle daintier — terribler — Like a panther in the glove -Emily Dickinson
The heart of Brown's book, however, is the idea that autistic writers may have trouble with specific elements of writing. The list of issues that Brown, and others, have identified (with possible causes in parentheses) follows.
It bears repeating that these issues are NOT problems for all autistics and that few autistics will demonstrate all of them:
- A messy writing process (possibly due to autistic issues with abstract, linear processes)
- Difficulty writing for an audience (autistic theory of mind issues)
- Problems adhering to a genre expectations (oppositional or nonconformist tendencies in some autistics)
- Struggles in building a narrative structure (autistic tendency to view life, and writing, as "an incoherent series of unconnected events" - Bernard Rimland )
- Issues with character arc and character development (impaired relationships and understanding of human nature in some autistics)
- Strong use of setting that may overwhelm the reader (exceptional memory and eye for detail in some autistic people)
- Rich use of symbolism which may not be comprehensible to all readers (possible autistic tendency towards "associative thinking" - Kristin Chew)
Brown then analyzes the work of her eight authors for these particular issues—and finds them.
According to Brown, each writer featured showed "a marked resistance against the writing of novels" because of the difficulty experienced in creating a "sustained, organically whole fictional narrative."
For me, this was an important insight.
I did identify with most of the other issues listed above—as well as some of the less common traits mentioned, like basing characters on oneself (which can made critique groups especially difficult) and the tendency to create duplicate or parallel characters. Still, for me, issues with narrative structure has been, and continues to be, my biggest writing challenge.
Dead Dreams and Do Overs
Irish poets learn your trade. Sing whatever is well made... -W.B. Yeats, Under Ben Bulben
Writing a well plotted novel has always been challenging for me. And when I say challenging, I mean that I have tried to do it dozens, if not hundreds of times—without success. I abandoned most of those unsuccessful manuscripts without finishing them. Those I completed had serious structural defects.
The point of this blog post isn't that autistics can't write novels because some obviously can. The point is that long-form fiction is a difficult proposition for many—including me. I have proven this to myself over and over again. But I couldn't accept it as a possible limitation until I understood why it was happening.
Writing a novel has been a dream of mine for a very long time and it's hard to just walk away from it. But change can serve a purpose, and I think the writers featured in Writers on the Spectrum prove that point.
Hans Christian Anderson switched from long-form fiction to fairy tales still read today. Thoreau gave up on society and inspired a nation. Yeats left the Theosophical Society and embraced the mythology of Ireland. Sherwood Anderson stopped writing books and created a brand new genre.
The genre Sherwood Anderson launched with the publication of his book Winesburg, Ohio is called the 'short story cycle.' I am going to try my own short story cycle at some point. But I'm going to publish the vampire story, which has just become a novella (or maybe even a novelette), first.
It is a little sad to think that I might not write a traditional novel. But it's exciting to imagine myself writing (and finishing) short stories and novellas and the occasional poem—and I am not just saying that.
My track record for finishing things isn't the best, but I have always been able to pull a new creative project out of the ashes. In the wake of my ASD diagnosis, I understand this ability to be one among the constellation of traits we call autism.
According to psychologist Michael Fitzgerald autistics have "the ability to focus intensely on a topic...for very long periods..." as well as "a remarkable capacity for persistence...an enormous capacity for curiosity and a compulsion to understand and make sense of the world."
Fitzgerald goes on to say, "they do not give up when obstacles to their creativity are encountered," and I think that this is something I mean to hold onto.
'It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it’s getting late.' So Alice got up and ran off... But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and... the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream. -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
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Resources:
- Writers on the Spectrum (affiliate link) by Julie Brown (literary professor and critic)
- Human But More So by Matthew Belmonte (research psychologist)
- Autism and Creativity (affiliate link) by Michael Fitzgerald (research psychologist)
- Nobody Nowhere (affiliate link) by Donna Williams, specifically the intro by Bernard Rimland (research psychologist)
Please note: If you click on one of the Amazon affiliate links (above), I may receive a small commission at no cost to you.
All of the books featured are available in ebook. They are:
- Xandri Corelel Series (affiliate link) by Karia Sønderby: 0. Testing Pandora, 1. Failure to Communicate, 2. Tone of Voice (affiliate links)
- Drama Queen (affiliate link) by Sara Gibbs
- Label Me (affiliate link) by Francesca Baird
- U Don't Seem Autistic (affiliate link) by Kathleen Schuber
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Please note that I may receive a small commission at no cost to you if you click on one of my affiliate links above.
Theme music by the Caffiene Creek Band
Vampire Story Update
I’ve spent most of the summer rewriting my vampire story. The first version was a novel. The second is a novella.
The initial rewrite took out a major character and storyline. The edits I’m working on now take out another. The cuts were the kind of material that’s often found in paranormal fiction. Unfortunately, it just didn’t read well in mine.
For better or worse, my story isn’t high stakes or even especially complicated. Most of the violence happens off page. There is a not very spectacular crime plot, no explicit sex and only one curse word.
Instead of a kick-ass heroine I have somebody whose arc is mostly about addiction, neurobiology, trauma recovery and vampires. It is a little dark but not in the usual way.
My working title is Swap Junkies (which will make sense by the end of Chapter One).
I plan to have the rewrites done by my birthday (August 22nd). Which means I’m going to have stop binge re-watching Dark Shadows at night and get back to writing.
(More on Dark Shadows in an upcoming post).
Swap Junkies Scene 1
Miranda O’Malley arrived at the Black Goddess a little after midnight and took a seat at her usual table. On a low pedestal just a few feet away, an over-sized statue of Kali glared blindly into the crowd.
Kali was painted in bright carnival colors, the paint strange and shiny in the light of a dozen flickering candles. A necklace of bleached baby monkey skulls encircled her neck. At her feet was a wide brass bowl filled with fruit and flowers and money.
On this particular night, most of the vampires at the Black Goddess were half-vamps. Unlike their blue-blood vampire mothers or fathers, half-vamps couldn’t zap people or wipe someone’s mind or see the power pulsing away in another vampire’s aura.
Miranda couldn’t do those things either, of course, but she could hear auras at least instead of see them. And each one was unique.
Blue-bloods were a symphony and each symphony was a one of a kind composition. Half-vamps were static, but it was never the same static even with them—which made being around a bar full of half-vamps sound like an old time radio receiver sweeping back and forth in between channels.
Miranda pulled out her phone and stared at blindly as she worked to shut out the energy and when she looked up, a small girl with long, silky brown hair was standing on the other side of the table.
Her name was Layla Peterson, and she had been friends with Miranda’s younger sister Violet, up until Violet had gone away to college and never looked back
“Hey Miranda.”
Miranda put down her phone. “Hey.”
Layla had a on white filmy blouse with long gauzy sleeves and round peasant neck. It made her look soft and pretty and young. “I heard Daniel’s back home. ”
Miranda sighed. It would be that. “So did I.”
“You haven’t seen him?”
“Nope.”
Layla didn’t smile, but Miranda knew she was happy. “Word is you guys are on the outs.”
“We are.” Miranda resisted the urge to disconnect from the conversation and go back to her phone. “Have you seen Sketcher?”
Layla shook her head. “I think he’s in jail.”
“For dealing?”
“That’s what I heard.”
He’d gone outside the gate then, the idiot, or sold to some tourist. “Do you know anyone else?”
“Not for V.” Layla picked at her bright pink nails and the long gauzy sleeves slipped down to reveal three sets of fresh double dot bite marks. She’d gotten tired, apparently, of waiting for Daniel to notice her. “But a vampire I know was asking about you.”
“Which one?”
Layla made a quick over the shoulder gesture. “By Kali.”
Miranda studied the skinny half-breed vampire on the far side of the altar. His dark hair was slicked back and his complexion was pasty. The plains of his face were sharp in the flickering light of Kali’s candles.
He was obviously lurking—close enough for even a half-vamp to hear every word they were saying.
“Is he safe?” Miranda asked.
Layla pulled down her sleeves. “Definitely.”
Miranda focused on the fuzzy pulse of his energy, and the static around her began to fade.
In this episode, I talk a bit about why I've switched gears with the podcast, my journey to a (very) late autism diagnosis, and how I was misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder for almost 20 years.
Memoir I loved (mentioned in the episode): Drama Queen (affiliate link) by Sara Gibbs
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Show music performed by the Caffeine Creek Band
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