Autism and Authorship
- jasonleewillis
- Nov 22, 2024
- 7 min read
By third grade, I knew I was different from my classmates. They all seemed quite content playing in the real world of the Tri-Valley playground in Colton whereas I developed an ulcer and preferred quiet corners where I could be alone for a few precious minutes. When I got home, I’d rush to my imaginary worlds to escape. By this time, I’d seen Star Wars and Star Trek, and I’d already read the Iliad and Odyssey. Despite being an avid reader, I preferred the imaginary world that I created.
Like a mashup of stories: I have a typed copy of a story I created from this time where I took the heroes of the Trojan War, and instead of reimagining them within the lines established by Homer, I added a twist from the Book of Revelation. Huh? Oh, it makes sense. Why? St. John was imprisoned on Patmos, a Greek Island. Greeks. So my story has Odysseus running into the Cyclops and an island filled with “Pollyons,” you know…the demon horde belonging to Apollyon from Rev Chapter 9.
Another example: I’d already immersed myself in Native American culture by this time, and understanding the impacts of colonialism upon all these cultures, I created an alternative historical reality to create a simulation on how things would have been different if Europeans had not come across the Atlantic. Here’s how it worked: I played the game of “War” (two cards flip, high card wins) that would represent a region and tribe. Soon the floor of my bedroom was covered with a room-sized map of America (my father had large drawing paper). My simulation would see mighty nations rise and fall. Each deck was a tribe and each face card a character from history.
Hours and hours passed…
So when my 3rd grade teacher asked for a meeting with my folks—and brought up the ideas of “special education”--I’m sure my folks were aghast. After all, they saw me creating slides for my electric microscope (great Christmas present, FYI), and knew my voracious reading habits. Special Ed?!?!
By 4th grade, I had Miss Briggs and her polyester pants, big hair, and high heels. Oh boy, I paid attention to her lessons, and if she wanted me to act normal, I’d act normal. By all appearances, I was fixed, but I was still tested.
And tested.
And tested.
In 5th grade, I got the results. By this time, I’d moved on from Miss Briggs to Leila, who had soft sweaters, cascading hair, and sat right in front of me in class. I could fake normal for her, too. But then my superintendent showed up to take me away—not to Special Ed—but to the gifted program in the basement of Tri-Valley Middle School. (yes, I know it sounds like a creepy Hollywood scenario). I was hurt and happy all at the same time. I could tell that I didn’t fit in with these kids either. They were quick and calculating while I was slow and ponderous. Plus, I struggled to “color inside of the lines” academically while they sponged it all up.
Four decades later…
I still needed alone time for lunch. In 28 years of teaching, 90% of my lunches were spent alone (by choice). I remember walking out of the building, down the sidewalk, and—
“Excuse me”
A “fully stamped” millennial autistic student just passed me on the sidewalk. My special education colleague at MRHS understood the traits and trauma of autism and arranged that her student could get some alone time, which he spent walking outside of the school building. Each day, we’d see each other during lunch and RARELY utter a word to each other. We both needed some silence, so I continued my trek to my house.
One by one, my “fully-stamped” autistic students became some of my favorites through the years. We’d laugh loudly at the same jokes in movies, we’d cringe at the same stimuli, and if there was a sudden change of schedule, we’d freak out equally and refuse to go. My autistic students revealed so many of our shared traits. As a professional educator, I learned enough about autism to see it in others but not myself until that lightbulb moment during a conference with a distraught parent about her son’s autism (she wanted him to be normal, and I defended being weird).
Suddenly, I thought of my 3rd grade teacher.
“Dang, is this what she saw in me?”
Autism is described on a spectrum since it has several degrees of impact. Obviously, I didn’t have severe autism, but I still felt “the traits” even though I could “fake normal” by studying normal people and acting like them. In my last year of teaching, I had a peer who was a special education teacher who took time during lunch to answer 20 questions about me. She’d known me for about a decade, so she had plenty of observational time. Together, we went down this checklist:
AUTISM TRAIT/CHARACTERISTIC *my answer”
Anxious about social situations “Solitude is great.”
Hard to make friends or preferring to be on your own “1 is enough. Solitude is great”
Blunt “Yes.”
Having the same routine every day and getting anxious if it changes “I schedule 2-3 years out”
Prefer Alone Time “Solitude is great”
Don’t entertain others at home (safe place) “My home is my fortress of solitude”
Protective of their space “I put up a fence.”
Overreaction to stimulus “They get loud, I’ll get louder”
Communication Quirks (ask my wife about French Fries)
Out of the blue questions “My Bible studies are out of the box”
Dissect every word “It’s why I love Bible studies”
Misinterpret what you’re saying “Did you mean to say it like that?”
Disinterested in conversations “Small talk kills me”
What is the purpose of this conversation? “Talk to solve a problem…only”
Focus their time and energy inwardly “I create imaginary worlds”
Regular women= focus on people “I have a small circle”
Regular men=focus on things “I’m not materialistic. Tools? Ew.”
Autistic=our passions “Obsessive with my interests.”
Keep emotions to ourselves “I pack emotions away to open later”
World of Their Own “I literally create worlds”
Multi-tasking Struggles “I juggle things but…”
Can’t move on without completing a task. “I must meet deadlines or…”
The uncompleted task will prevent them from doing others “I can’t even think of next”
Super-Sensitive to Senses:
Light “Dark is soothing. My classroom lights were off”
React strongly to Loud Noises “You get loud, I get angry”
Talking loudly 🙂 “No self-volume control.”
Even though autism is a trending concept, I couldn’t ignore the reality of the above list. Being self-aware (vs. self-diagnosed?), I reflected on my career as an educator. My obsessions fueled my curriculum and provided me with joy, but my misery stemmed from the triggers that also affected my autistic students. Beginning in about 2018, too many things were changing for me: education, family, and routine. I fought through them as an educator, and being aware of my triggers helped me untangle the knots in my belly, but with Covid followed by a new building, so much change made me a miserable person.
Once again, writing kept me afloat.
Being able to control a story helped me manage my anxiety on a daily basis, and I cranked out over a million words (you read that right) from 2015 to 2023. Writing soothed me and also provided me with a routine that school no longer could provide. I knew I had to make changes so I could establish a routine. So…I resigned from a really fun job.
Observing my special education colleagues working with autistic students, I witnessed how hard they worked to prevent kids from withdrawing into their own world, so I knew resigning from my miserably fun job meant I risked my own mental health. For the first three months, I literally spent 12 hours a day at Lura Studios writing and revising my projects…and I FELT GREAT.
However, I slowly modified my schedule to create a 20 year plan (again, I’m a long term planner). When I had the opportunity to be a sports writer for the local paper, the autistic kid in me said HELL NO. But upon pondering for a few minutes, I knew it’d get me out of the house for nine months of the year while also (ew) socializing.
I’ve recently expanded this new aspect to create maplerivermemories.com. With this endeavor, I get to allow my “rabbit hole” traits to fixate and share some local history while also doing human interest stories (and some video editing) with my “real” friends and neighbors.
I also picked up an “educational” gig that kept me plugged into my old love English. I now teach online English, which allows me to act as a “substitute grader” for 12th grade English without having the stress and anxiety of performing in front of a 120 live teenagers.So I’ve now found a new routine that’ll allow me to healthily continue as an author.
Being aware of those 20+ autistic traits also has helped me as an author. Honestly, I’d write even if nobody ever read my work. (after all, I have a 600,000 word fantasy series just waiting on the backburner). Yet awareness also made me realize a few pitfalls:
I need to think like my readers.
I can’t fixate on obscure facts
As an escapist, I really didn’t think of the reader in the past. I wanted to visit. I wanted to explore. I wanted to imagine. Now, as I revise works I wrote 3-4 years ago, I feel I’m a better writer by trying to guide the reader rather than abandoning them on page 1 to figure things out for themselves.
My self-published novel PAN’S APPRENTICE is an example of me throwing everything and the kitchen sink at the reader. By comparison, my newest manuscript (EXILE ON MAINE STREET) has a single protagonist for 80% of the chapters (I couldn’t bring myself to writing in 1st person, though). Simple.
I’m also noticing my “rabbit hole” traits as I’m editing and writing books 3 and 4 in the Dreamcatcher Chronicles. I began THE TRICKSTER in 2019, and as I’m finishing it, I’m hitting the delete button more than any other key on the keyboard. Why? Information overload. Ask any autistic kid about their recent obsession and: BUCKLE UP! You’re going to get an earful. So I now try to prevent myself from overdoing it.
But I also feel blessed to be wired this way. As I mentioned above, my Bible studies are popular because my brain exists out of the box. In the same way, my novels are out of the box since my mind goes on adventures long before I take the reader on a ride also.
Over the next 20 years, I hope to harness this curse/superpower of mine to steadily improve as a writer and storyteller.
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