I know I promised to get back to talking about writing stuff instead of autism stuff, but, well, plans change. (Sorry.)

Earlier today, the lovely Beth Cato linked to this article on Twitter–Autism Awareness is Not Enough: Here’s How to Change the World–and I loved it so much I had to post about it. This will be my new go-to article when explaining the autistic rights movement and neurodiversity to people.

If you’re interested in autism at all, I highly recommend taking the time to read the full thing. After an important introduction, fifteen people with close connections to autism–self-advocates, parents, teachers, and combinations thereof–are asked to share five thoughts on how to make the world more inclusive to people with autism. I don’t agree with every viewpoint, but I do agree with the vast majority–and the viewpoints I don’t agree with are still important enough that people should read and consider them to understand where people are coming from.

Since it’s such a long read, and because so many points made me want to jump up and cheer, I made a selection of my favorite quotes–one for each of the people interviewed.

(I also added my own ‘advice’ at the end.)

Lydia Brown:

Accept us. Autism is a part of who we are. As sure as skin color or sexual orientation, we cannot change being Autistic. Acceptance starts by understanding that we are not broken, defective, or diseased. We do not need to be fixed or cured. There is nothing wrong with us. Yes, autism is a disability, and yes, some Autistic people are very severely disabled. Accepting our autism does not mean ignoring or denying disability; it means accepting us for who we are, as we are.

Continue reading “Autistic Perspectives” »

Usually, I just rant on Autism Awareness Day. This time, I figured I’d chill out and actually talk about my experiences with autism and why awareness is important to me.

I do have to get my annual Autism Awareness Day requests out of the way first, though:

• Please do not donate to Autism Speaks. The vast majority of their income goes to research so they can eradicate autism, instead of supporting existing autistic people; they use incorrect statistics; they create advertisements that paint autistic people as monsters and burdens; they fearmonger, they lie, and for an organization that calls itself Autism Speaks, they don’t seem to care one whit of what actual autistic people have to say, given that they have no autistic individuals on their board.
• Instead, if you feel the need to donate, please consider ASAN–the Autistic Self Advocacy Network. Nothing About Us Without Us.
• Many blog posts today will spread misinformation, make gross simplifications, be condescending, and generally ignore autistic individuals in favor of talking about their non-autistic family. Please avoid playing into this trend.
• (Also avoid using the puzzle piece symbol, if you could.)
• If you want to learn more about autism, please try to get this information from autistic people, and not solely from families or organizations. We should not be shut out of these discussions.

Okay.

The below is very personal, and not always cheerful. If that makes you uncomfortable, you probably want to look away. I promise you, we’ll go right back to our regular writing-related ramblings later this week.

Looking at me, people would not peg me as autistic. I stim–usually by rocking back and forth or tapping my foot–but not outrageously so. I can communicate clearly and effectively. I am social, excitable, and have no problems recognizing expressions or moods. Although I’m sensitive to sound and touch, I’m unlikely to have extreme reactions.

(Well, I once kicked my grandmother when she tickled me without warning. Sorry, Grandma.)

All of that means that I’m privileged. Complete strangers won’t look at me with pity or condescension. People will never call me a retard. I’m capable of taking care of myself, and I can manage friendships and relationships.

So why is autism awareness important to me?

Because without awareness–the good kind of awareness, not the trendy kind that focuses on little kids only–people don’t believe that I’m autistic. Family, classmates, teachers, co-workers, government officials, my own doctor. When people hear about the problems I do have, they’ll disregard them, because, hey, look at me! I’m young. I’m normal. Clearly I’m in that group of kids who were misdiagnosed as autistic, and now I’m taking full advantage of it. I’m doing this for attention!

I’m… not doing this for attention.

This is how autism has affected my life: I had my first suicidal thoughts at eight, and had to drop out of high school at fourteen because school–with so many people and classes and demands and responsibilities–meant that I could no longer walk down a street without wanting to throw myself in the path of an oncoming car.

I’m no longer suicidal or even depressed. I like my life. I like myself. I’ve improved by leaps and bounds. I even dig my autism, because for all the bad things it’s caused, it’s done a lot of good things, too. Above all, it’s part of me.

But: I’m on disability benefits, because even working one or two afternoons a week caused so much stress that I struggled to get anything done around the house. I’ve never been able to eat normally, and will gag uncontrollably when made to eat food I can’t handle. I’ve consciously had to train my social skills; I was very proud when I finally learned to say ‘Have a good night!’ to people. (Unfortunately, I blurted it out during mornings and afternoons as well.)

I can talk about how I prefer certain shapes of forks or how I can’t handle certain sounds or how I still can’t make eye contact or how when I get stressed sometimes I’ll slap myself in the back of the neck, but what it comes down to is this: That I’m doing well doesn’t mean I’m any less autistic. Put me back in school, give me a job, force me to eat a normal meal, put me in a situation I can’t deal with, and I’ll go right back to freaking out because I never built up a script to deal with those situations.

Like I said–I generally like my life. I don’t want pity. What I do want is understanding, and that’s why awareness–the good kind–matters. I have learned to adapt to the rest of the world so much, and if there’s things left that I can’t do… please take my word for it. Please don’t think I’m taking it easy on myself. Please don’t laugh in my face and go, “Oh, please, like you’re autistic!” Please don’t tell me a positive attitude is all I need to hold down a job.

It’s not encouraging. It’s not a compliment. And it’s not true.

I am at peace with my limitations, and I wish more other people could be, too.

Thank you for reading this.

Fourteen books this month. New record! \o/

Rosemary and Rue, by Seanan McGuire: Aside from a bit of a slump in the middle, I really enjoyed this book. Interesting faerie mythology, interesting characters — definitely picking up the sequels at some point.

Gone, Hunger, Lies, and Plague, by Michael Grant: Fast reads with lively characters and interesting moral dilemmas — though occasionally they’re a little too silly. As you can see by my having read all four books in this series in the space of a week and a half, they’re pretty darn addictive, too, and I’ll be getting parts five and six once they come out. Unfortunately, the portrayal of Little Pete, an autistic kid, made me put the books down every now and then so I could work past my hurt and anger before reading on. Not pleasant.

Tithe, by Holly Black: Since I loved White Cat so much, I had high hopes for this, but I won’t be picking up the rest of this series. I loved Kaye’s living situation and family; they were fleshed out and real and interesting. The rest of the book fell flat in comparison, and since that’s what the focus was on, my interest faded pretty quick.

Moonshine, by Alaya Dawn Johnson: I wasn’t gripped for the first third, but it picked up to become a pretty fun read. Loved the setting.

Black Blade Blues, by J.A. Pitts: I wanted to love this, even when the queerness became less incidental and more of a focal point, but it seemed like the book couldn’t decide what it wanted to be: a fun romp with Norse mythology and magic swords or an angsty relationship drama. The balance didn’t work for me. The chatty voice also bothered me, and I normally love chattiness.

Guardian of the Dead, by Karen Healey: Definitely recommended. The writing style is exactly up my alley and it keeps the parts I love about YA UF while being its own thing.

Liar, by Justine Larbalestier: Loved this. Was proud to catch two of the lies before they were revealed. *g*

Sisters Red, by Jackson Pearce: This was very fun, and I loved the sisterly interplay. The romantic relationship was slightly on the bland side, though.

For The Win, by Cory Doctorow: Enjoyable read, interesting concepts, great female characters — but pretty wooden villains. Unsure about the resolution. Like with Little Brother, at times the infodumps made me feel like I was back in class.

Magic Under Glass, by Jaclyn Dolamore: A light, quick read. Effective writing and lovely, magical concepts. I enjoyed this.

The Secret Year, by Jennifer R. Hubbard: Another quick read. I liked what was there, but it never entirely grabbed me — I expected it to go deeper.

So, the dreaded Autism Awareness Day is here, and… uh… I’m not quite sure what to write. When I have something to say about autism, I just say it, so I’ve got nothing in particular to say or recommend right now.

So instead, let’s steer away from the soapboxing and focus on REALLY AWESOME THINGS.

Like:

• Remember my post about Animorphs and whitewashing? Scholastic responded, and they did it awesomely. I’m so, so happy right now.
• That super fancy netbook I mentioned on Thursday? It’s arriving today! It’s a shiny white Samsung N210, and can’t wait to get my hands on it and get it ready for lift-off for when my Pixel Qi screen arrives next week.
• Also thing from that post on Thursday… I forgot to list another geeky movie I’m cautiously excited about. Namely, X-Men: First Class. Which also has a semicolon in its name. I’m starting to smell a conspiracy of some sort.
• People were completely lovely in commenting on, linking to & retweeting yesterday’s post on Autism Awareness Day. Thank you!
• There’s more good news. Really good news, in fact, which… I can’t post about until tomorrow. I can’t wait to share! (And no, it’s not a book deal. *g*)

One of these days, I will write a blog post that does not include lists.

… it’s a skill that clearly needs developing.

I know I’m not alone in fearing April Fools. I’m one of those really gullible people who doesn’t much like being pranked, so today is a minefield. I trust no one. No one.

I’ve got my eyes on you.

Even worse, right after April 1st comes… April 2nd. (Shocker, I know). And April 2nd is Autism Awareness Day.

Warning: SOAPBOXING AHEAD.

And I know people mean well. I do. But I’ve been dreading this day for weeks. Last year, I had to cringe my way through Twitter and Google Reader. This day seems to be aimed primarily at the clueless, and it feels odd to experience a day that’s about me, but not by me and apparently not for me, either. I can’t tell you how often I’ve seen people talk about the families and caretakers of people with autism while completely forgetting that the actual people with autism should also be taken into account.

Basically… good intentions mean very little when the end result is still hurtful, patronising, or just plain offensive.

So I’ve got two basic requests for anyone who wants to post about Autism Awareness Day:

1. If you don’t know a lot about autism — or even if you do! — please tread very carefully. I know awareness is important, and I know people just want to help, but please realize that many topics aren’t black-and-white within the autism community as they seem to be outside of it. Things like cures, early detection, high-functioning/low-functioning, autism-as-disease, vaccines as even a possible cause of autism, the increasing prevalence, teaching kids to appear/act normal… All of these are controversial and hotly debated within the autism community, and it’s super weird — and rather off-putting — to see total outsiders bring up/take sides on these topics without even realizing there might be another side to them.

   Keep in mind that people with autism also browse the web (hi, that’d be me!) and might also read your posts. The overwhelming majority of posts on Autism Awareness Day make me feel like an object of pity, like a problem to be solved, like people don’t even consider that I might be reading their post, or like people like me — ie. autistic adults — don’t even exist. Is that how you want to make the people you’re trying to help feel?

2. Do not ask people to donate to Autism Speaks. Do not use stats from Autism Speaks. Do not mention Autism Speaks in any positive way.

   I know this seems glib, but I’m serious. I could go into the reasons for this, but… well, I don’t really want to clog up this blog with my rants. If you’re really interested, shoot me an e-mail. (Or simply Google “autism speaks controversy”. There are many, many pages to leaf through. Focus on posts by autistic people.)

… and I’ve also got two basic requests for anyone who wants to Do Good on Autism Awareness Day without actually posting about it:

1. Seek out blog posts by autistic people. Remember who this day is supposed to be about. An outside perspective is often a skewed perspective. I absolutely value the opinions and experiences of those living with autistic people — but in media these days, those voices overpower the voices of those autistic people themselves. We are being shut out of our own conversations. That’s not how it should be.
2. If you want to donate to an organization — kudos to you! — try hunting down self-advocacy groups. Many autism organizations (like The One That Must Not Be Named a.k.a. The One I Named Earlier In This Post) don’t have a single person with autism on the board. That seems a little iffy, don’t you think?

Autism has been getting a lot of attention these past years, and the side effects of that are that people are more keen on helping out than ever, which I appreciate — but it also means that people are more clueless than ever due to the rampant misinformation and the prevalence of non-autistic voices in this discussion.

So what I’m asking is this: Do your research. Talk to autistic people in your vicinity or online. That way, if you want to help, you’ll be able to do it so much better. I’m all for awareness, but it needs to be the right kind.

I know this is short notice, but if anyone has a post prepared for tomorrow, I’d be happy to take a look, share my thoughts good and bad, and explain anything you might be confused about — even if I don’t have the faintest idea who you are. Just e-mail me and I’ll get back to you as fast as I can — definitely on time for you to post it tomorrow. Just be aware that I won’t hold back; only send it in if you genuinely want my thoughts.

Man, that title is bringing me back to my high school Latin days. And not in a good way. *shudder*

First off — look! I drew:

Oooh man, it feels nice to be doing art again.

Thinking about yesterday’s post some more, I’ve come to realize a few things. Those small tasks I do during my ‘cooling down’ periods include drawing (see above!), writing/editing/submitting short stories, beta reading novels for friends, designing websites, writing synopses and queries, and doing research and taking notes for future novels. Which basically means that I’m more productive than I give myself credit for… just nowhere near as productive as I feel I should be. I mean, I don’t have a job (I get by on disability benefits), I’m not married, and I have no children (hah!). That means I have scads and scads of free time on my hands. In theory, I should be able to write all day long. When I don’t, well, I look at all the hours wasted and the result is immense frustration.

But that’s overlooking the fact that I’m in on disability benefits for a damn good reason, isn’t it? If it were that easy for me to get work done, I’d be out there, er, doing work.

Anyhow, I also realized that a) I tend to have a far more difficult time getting into projects halfway through (editing, picking up abandoned first drafts, etc.) than starting projects from scratch, and b) I work better with some outside pressure. Organizing myself is hard as hell, but having someone give me a deadline and a job to do? I feel a lot more stressed, but it does tend to get results — and, within limits, the stress is worth it. Nothing feels quite like that sweet bliss of Getting Things Done.

These are all good things to realize. The more I know about myself and how I work, the easier I’ll be able to manipulate myself into productivity. We’re our own worst enemies, right?

I know I’m not supposed to process these kinds of things on a public blog — so long, professionalism! — and I promise I’m not going to make a habit out of it. But I do think it’s important to be at least somewhat open about these kinds of things. If everyone just talks about sunshine and rainbows all the time, we start to think we’re alone when things take a turn downward. And we never, ever are.

Besides: it makes all the sunshine and rainbows even better.

Briefly: I’m so giddy with all the positive reactions to my post on autistic characters from the other day. After my friend handyhunter posted it on Tumblr, a whole lot of people on Tumblr dug and reblogged it. Yay!

In less cheery news, I just found out via the fab RaceBending.com LiveJournal group that a casting call for the Hunger Games movie was released, and it’s not looking too hot. Here’s what we know they’re looking for:

• 15 to 20 years old
• Caucasian
• “underfed but strong”
• “naturally pretty underneath her tomboyishness”

Wait… Caucasian? That’s not how I pictured Katniss. This is how I pictured Katniss:

The Dandelion in Spring by *Ratgirlstudios

Together In the Games by *Samurai-PET

(Further gorgeous HG art here and here. Spoilers abound.)

Everyone pictures characters differently. You’ll never be able to please everyone. And I can see why some people imagine Katniss as white; her physical description of olive skin, grey eyes, and black hair doesn’t exclude that possibility.

But… it absolutely doesn’t exclude people of color.

It’s not about pleasing everyone or about making sure the character is how I imagined her, down to the size of her ears or what kind of shoes she wears. It’s about not engaging in this constant tiring pattern of whitewashing characters, be it on covers or live-action media or who knows what else. Why on Earth is it necessary to restrict this part to white actresses? There are countless of talented non-white actresses around and to prematurely rule them out is just… um… let’s go with a nice word here and say ‘ridiculous’. As long as the actress fits the description, she should be allowed to audition.

Look, Prim, Peeta, and a whole bunch of other characters in this film are clearly white. I’ve always read Rue and the others from her district as black, though it’s possible any dark-skinned ethnicity would fit — I’d have to reread the books. Just because there’s some uncertainty about Katniss’s, and thus Gale’s, race doesn’t mean they have to default to white.

Anyway, they’ve said this a whole lot better on the RaceBending LiveJournal community. There’s more discussion in the comments. Please spread the word — the more people protesting this, the better our chances of seeing the auditions opened to other actresses.

Forgive me, I usually try to keep the snark away from here, but I just finished watching this week’s episode of Criminal Minds and it compelled me to dig up something I wrote some time last year.

Standard disclaimer: I’m not saying all of these things are automatically wrong or never ever happen in real life. I’m just saying they’re really, really, nauseatingly clichéd and I may need to start throwing lawn chairs around if I see them again anytime soon.

Additions welcome.

Corinne’s Rules for Writing Autistic Characters™

• Some of us are female.
• Some of us are over the age of twelve.
• Some of us have actual personalities beyond ‘autistic’.
• Some of us have identities beyond Difficult Witness or Precocious Child.
• Some of us aren’t savants. Boring, I know.
• Some of us will, in fact, know when you’re being condescending and/or talking about us as though we’re not in the same damn room together.
• Some of us have emotions beyond PANIC and BLANK.
• Some of us may even do a freakish thing like hold down a job or have a relationship.
• Some of us can explain our condition ourselves instead of needing throwaway character X to do it for us.
• Some of us will be autistic even when it’s inconvenient to your story.
• Some of us can communicate in ways that don’t include far-fetched puzzles. We might even speak! Using words!
• Some of us will simply cringe instead of scream at the top of our lungs when touched unexpectedly.
• Some of us exist for purposes other than to make your main character look ~*sympathetic*~.
• Some of us will, in fact, refuse to look your main character in the eye or allow a hug even when they’re trying to have a moving scene. Sorry. We’re self-centered jerks like that.
• Some of us could even be main characters ourselves. (Maybe even in a story that’s not about autism. Shhh, don’t tell anyone!)

/PSA

Back to your not-so-regularly-scheduled not-so-snarky blog posts soon.

I don’t talk about it a lot here — though I’ve mentioned it on Twitter a few times — but as a result of my autism and likely ADHD, work is officially A Problem™, and I’m on government benefits as a result. I’m super grateful for this, but we’ve had our problems over the years.

Mainly when the Big Nameless Government Organization took one look at me and saw someone young, bright, and motivated, and figured I could totally work a full-time job given the right environment.

I really wish it worked that way. (It doesn’t — I’ve tried.)

Sadly, they kept pushing.

Long story short — about an hour ago, my job coach* dropped by with the news that he’s found someone within the Big Nameless Government Organization who’s a-okay with me focusing on my writing/art full-time instead of getting a regular job, and they’ll contact me ASAP to hash things out.

It took several years to get to this point. And yeah, it’s a huge relief to finally get them off my back, to not have to worry about it, to have help in figuring out how to set up my art business…

But you know what the weird thing is? What I’m most excited about is that this feels like validation. It’s the government saying, “Yup. You’re an writer. Open up Word and write about teenage girls assaulting depressed Germanic gods with bike pumps, young grasshopper, you’ve got my permission.”

It doesn’t really say anything about me as a writer. Though they asked a million questions to see how serious about my work I was, they’ve never actually read a word of it.

But still.

I kinda feel like a writer now.

* He got an oliebol for his troubles. Thanks, dude!

… and not of the fictional variety.

Warning: This is a me-me-me post, with some existential angst and whining on the side. Skip as desired!

A lot of writers struggle to make time for writing. I know I’m not alone there.Writing comes at the cost of family, friends, work, housekeeping — but it’s worth it, because it’s our passion, right? You have to make sacrifices for your passion.

But what if you have more than one passion? What if finishing a book gives you the same thrill and contentment and joy as finishing a drawing – and after years of trying, you still can’t find a way to balance the two?

That’s the predicament I find myself in now. I love art. I went to school for it. I want to keep doing it for the rest of my life – both because of sentimental and practical reasons: I make more money with a single drawing than I have with all my writing put together.

But for reasons of the neurological variety, I can’t multitask. I already struggle to keep up with housekeeping and a social life in addition to writing. If I’m willing/able to deal with stress, I can add the occasional Extra Activity: actual work, or reading, or art… but not all of those. Not even close. Something’s gotta give.

So I’ve been neglecting art these past few years in order to focus on writing. About once or twice a year I feel inspired to do more, I stock up on art supplies and brainstorm ideas for drawings and maybe even do a sketch or two — and then I feel bad that I’m so behind on my writing, and let the art slide. When I finally get around to dealing with agents and editors and deadlines, imagine how much worse it’ll be? Then I won’t have the opportunity to postpone writing for weeks or months at a time, and that’s the only way I ever get any art done.

Basically, I need to make some sort of decision.

This week, I realized that I pretty much did: in October, I received an invitation to participate in an exposition. The theme was Black & White. Right up my alley. Charcoal rules, y’all.

The deadline to submit was yesterday.

I’m not happy with this decision, such as it is. But I wouldn’t be the other way around, either. When I write, I feel like I should be drawing. When I draw, I feel like I should be writing.

Sometimes, having less ambition would be nice.