I’ve joined RJ Scott today to promote World Autism Day. Please check out the link below for the other bloggers taking part 🙂
As part of this I’m also giving away an ebook copy of one my backlist (This is Not a Love Story, Wild Summer, Skeleton, Innocence). For a chance to win please leave a comment, the name of the story you’d like to read and your email (or other way I can contact you). I’ll pick a winner on Sunday 5th April.
Several members of my immediate family have Asperger syndrome (a very high functioning form of Autism), or are on the Autistic Spectrum.
This website is a great introduction to autism, especially for teens who may have just been diagnosed or for anyone seeking a plain language introduction.
The following is from http://www.autism.org.uk
You cannot tell that someone has Asperger syndrome by looking at them. Because of this Asperger syndrome is sometimes called a hidden disability.
Asperger syndrome lasts for all of a person’s life. Some people know that they have Asperger syndrome when they are children. But sometimes people do not know they have Asperger syndrome until they are older.
People with Asperger syndrome can do a lot of things and learn a lot of skills.
Some people with Asperger syndrome find these things difficult
- They find it difficult to tell people what they need, and how they feel.
- They find it difficult to meet other people and to make new friends.
- They find it difficult to understand what other people think, and how they feel.
Not everyone with Asperger syndrome will find these things difficult. This is because everyone with Asperger syndrome is different.
This is a short excerpt from a story I’m writing where one MC has autism and synesthesia (a condition where sensory experiences overlap. For example tasting shapes/smelling colours). It’s called All Cats Are Grey and will hopefully be published sometime later this year.
He listened for Nancy’s voice. The sound of her, clear like the still surface of the pond when she spoke to him was nowhere. He closed his eyes as he trailed his hands gently over the dusty tops of the books, fingers whispering. He wasn’t looking for the title they needed, it didn’t matter—it was just an excuse—they didn’t really need an updated version of the book- Nancy just thought going out was a good idea. Going out anywhere. She suggested it a lot. He said no. A lot. No was safe. A solid word. Definite. He was in control with no. Unlike yes, which was too formless and free with possibility, too never ending…the air leaking from a tyre..yesssssssssssssss…
Nancy’s blond hair bobbed into view.
“Did you find it?”
“No.” He said.
Her warmth almost touched him and he edged back. Touch was okay sometimes, when he was sure, when he felt safe, like in the garden but not here, not when this place wasn’t safe yet—this place that belonged to the serious eyed boy who had been too much near him, too close, smelling of heat and confusion…and… yesssssssss.
His breathing quickened and he closed his eyes. Home. He needed home.
“I’d like to go now,” he said. The words nearly got stuck in his throat. He had to swallow again and again.
Not looking but only feeling as her hand gripped his arm and she lead him forwards through the quiet whispery darkness and out into the painfully busy street. She had parked close by for this very reason.
Once the car doors were closed with a deep spacey thunk, and they were sealed in, all sounds muted, the discomfort lifted.
“Okay?” she asked. And he wondered if he loved her. If that’s what love was, someone who would take you home, keep you safe.
But as he stared out the window, up the steps toward the square library block, he also wondered at the feeling that he was leaking out like the air from a punctured tyre when he thought of a boy’s serious eyes watching him, at a longing he couldn’t understand.