Next week is my last class in my Reading & Writing the Short Story course. During the last several weeks, I have been writing a literary short story using a different methodology than I usually use. Instead of thinking the project through first, and then writing it, I was asked to write a little at a time and let the project develop without a plan and without a whole lot of forethought. It was an interesting experience to say the least.
The end result was flawed. I haven’t even figured out how much work will be involved in order to turn the project around. But the flaws themselves provided a remarkable amount of clarity.
Autism was a major feature of this short story. Typically, I write speculative fiction, and autism or autistic characters creep into my stories even there. But this piece was supposed to be written in the literary style, and thus I wrote a story about something a bit more mundane. I remembered a writing teacher once telling me that people don’t write stories about “housewives,” because they never do anything worth telling. So, as per my contrarian nature, I wrote a story about a housewife—particularly the mother of two children with autism who is also almost autistic herself.
The clarity came, not from the story itself, but from the various reactions to my story. My readers—those individuals who are part of my life and who read most of my work—found the story compelling, clear, and approachable. My classmates—individuals who are not immersed in the world of autism—found the story compelling, but not as clear or approachable as they would have liked. The difference, of course, is how familiar the reader is with autism.
Thus the flaws. As a writer, I cannot rely on my readers being familiar with my subject matter, especially when the “point” is to show a different perspective concerning the subject matter. Which is not to say that this story is an advocacy piece. Nor did I intend it to be. But, in a way, of course, it is. In a way, everything I write about autism is an advocacy piece, because most of the dialogue on autism is still so…wrong. But, whether an advocacy piece or just a story, the point is to communicate to the reader on behalf of the characters, and relying on a shared perspective doesn’t do that.
Sometimes I forget how much I have changed, how much my perspective has changed, how much the way I see the world has changed, since I fell into the world of autism. It seems so strange to me to look at it that way, because I’m finally where I belong.


