I'm a terrible writer

and other lies

Spring is truly showing off, and I love it.

What I don’t love so much is feeling like a failure.

I am recovering from an author event from the weekend and probably will be all week, if I’m honest. It was my second such event, a learning experience, and I wasn’t as prepared as I thought.

Exhaustion, disappointments, and a preventable medication withdrawal¹ have left me in the perfect storm of vulnerability. Thoughts like “you’re a terrible writer” and “no one will like your books” and “you’ll never be successful because you can’t handle social media” and “why can’t you write books that people actually want to read?” have hounded me constantly and woke me up this morning.

I know none of these things are true–I do struggle with social media, but that’s no reflection of my value. Social media (specifically Instagram, the only place I’m active) demands a level of participation that most of us struggle to interact with in a healthy way.² Still, this recent barrage of negative thoughts has been discouraging, another drain on my slowly waxing internal resources that were only just flourishing after months of waning.

Why am I sharing this? Yes, all writers struggle. Yet I’ve spent too long telling myself either one of two narratives: either the ‘failure’ narrative above, or one that didn’t understand how my neurodiverse/divergent/spicy/sensitive self affected my writing in ways that neurotypical folks don’t experience, and therefore tried to minimize it. As more and more ND folks share about our experiences and connect with one another, the more I want to share my story here.

The truth is that certain (writing) struggles are much bigger for ND folks, and the more we talk about it, the better.

When negative thoughts and low self-esteem surface, it may be helpful to reframe things in more positive light, but only after I acknowledge that my current internal discussion is hard. Being honest with myself is compassionate and not, as I believed for most of my life, ‘letting my emotions run away with me’. It is the first step. And sometimes, reframing is the last thing I need.

For ND folks, we are constantly having our sensitivities dismissed, mocked, or forced underground. We deal with Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria, executive function challenges that make simple tasks difficult, and a myriad of sensory issues and traumas. But we are learning to validate our way of moving through the world, rather than rushing to force ourselves into neat little boxes of toxic positivity and internalized ableism.

We don’t want pity when we share these things. We aren’t attention seekers. We simply want to connect with those who understand and to say, “here I am, this is my experience. I am valid.”

This is the sort of post I would have deemed ‘too dramatic’ a few months ago and scrapped. But I am incredibly creative and imaginative and I will continue to own this. Maybe you don’t resonate with a lot of things in this post; that’s ok. You offer your unique kind of creativity. I hope you can own that, too. The more we show up as our authentic selves, the more we step into our wholeness.

That makes for a beautiful, more compassionate world.

growing slowly, with love

Books and such

1. Autistic friends of mine are collaborating on a picture book called How it Feels to Me, and I am so excited. A book for everyone, it illustrates the experience of being autistic, the kind of book the creators wished they had as children (and I do, too). You can learn more and support them here.

2. This post from artist Morgan Harper Nichols really resonated. As always, her artwork is soothing, thoughtful, and beautiful.

3. This post about the links between ABA, autism, and conversion therapy makes me feel all the feels. Mostly rage.

4. Finally, for some lovely light reading, here is this month’s free story offering, a clean romance fairy tale retelling. Click the image to read more about A Curse of Gold and Beauty. By requesting this book, you are signing up for the author’s newsletter. You just might find a new favorite author!

1. sort of–ADHD happened and made life challenging, as it often does.

2. yes I harp on this and no I don’t plan to stop.