Neurodiversity in Fiction
In a course I took on starting and running a small press, we examined the way stories center identity. They do this not only in the way authors give characters are given some phenotypes and not others, but in the language of the narrative. One particular piece of short fiction we read was "the river" by adrienne marie brown. In “the river,” a Black woman lived on the river in Detroit. She sensed something coming from that river, a sentience that picked off tourists and moneyed late-comers, ridding Detroit of all but the city’s own. The language of the story, the language the author chose to use, was central in the creation of character and context.
In giving a story an identifiable voice, we grant that voice presence. We say that it exists, and that people who speak so exist, as well, and that they are valid. On the other hand, if we streamline what makes an author, a character, or a story themselves into asserted "normalcy" (which has never been the norm), we wipe out the audience that needs that story the most.
Most readers are, by nature, both empathetic and curious, and therefore will look for similarities with the characters they read, as well as intriguing differences that they will likely be eager to learn about. At the same time, people desperately need the validation of reading about others who are like them. Combine these two perspectives, and diversity in fiction is essential.
I don't speak much differently than others in my area, except to sound a little more like the people in the books I read growing up. I look like a white woman, which has its advantages and drawbacks. But my thought patterns and the way my emotions move are different. I know and applaud that people have started writing books with neurodivergent main characters, but it's come to a point when it seems as though most of these books focus on one representation of one type of neurodivergence: an easily labeled layman’s version of ASD, or Autism Spectrum Disorder. I think it's amazing that characters who have ASD are getting attention, but there are other kinds of neurodivergence, and I want those to be explored, too. I'm not saying that books never center such characters. I'd just like to see more. I'd particularly like to see more in genre fiction. I'd especially like to see more in romance, that genre that teaches us about happily ever afters, and how we deserve them, too.
I'm neurodivergent, but I am not diagnosed as on the Autism Spectrum. I have ADHD and OCD. I've also had persistent issues with anxiety and depression, but I consider those sort of tag-along neuroses I'd rather not focus on right now. Point is, I never write neurotypical main characters. I can't. I have no idea how to think along those comfortable, worn tracks that make up the middle of the road. And it's strange, when my work is critiqued, to hear someone who appears to be neurotypical say things like "the main character wouldn't do that. People don't act that way." or "I don't understand why your character would do that." Because what they mean is that they wouldn't do that, and they don't know why anyone would.
When I write something I think makes perfect logical/emotional sense in a fictional world, I'd prefer an editor ask me about it, rather than writing it off as not a thing a person would do. As not human. Just as an author's voice should be preserved, I wonder if their patterns of thinking should be respected. Those, too, speak of identity.
—Vivian Walker Ward
