Authentically Authoring in the Age of Neurodivergence

What do I mean by that? Do I mean that I, as an author, label characters in my books as ‘neurodivergent’?

The short answer is: No, I do not.

The long answer is a bit more complex—the umbrella term ‘neurodivergence’ is in itself quite vague and non-specific, therefore using that term to describe a character of mine would tell readers little more than labeling them as different. Most of us would agree that brain chemistry, while it can vary widely even within that spectrum, is only a part of the story. Lived experience can be just as important (sometimes more so) than the chemical processes in the brain that interpret and internalize a person’s emotions.

Why do I feel that’s so crucial to understand? Because while a neurotypical and a neurodivergent may have similar life experiences and wind up with completely different feelings about those experiences, two neurodivergents living through similar circumstances may have reactions that vary just as widely.

In short, brain chemistry doesn’t lead to perceptions and emotions in any kind of a predictable manner based on those factors alone. If you’ve ever heard the saying ‘Nature vs. Nurture’ you likely understand that a person with mental, emotional, or physical challenges—when raised in a supportive environment—can lead to that person feeling content and relatively stable. Someone who experiences trauma (especially long term), invalidation, exploitation, or loss without any understanding or support often fare badly, whether they are neurodivergent or not.

Because long-term effects of trauma are experienced by such a wide variety of people, my goal as an author is to speak to the emotion that results rather than draw attention to a label that may complicate the readers’ experience.

As a neurodivergent myself, I may present a particular character in a way that I empathize with and understand, but may not make sense to someone with a different expectation. Some emotions, however, transcend barriers and can speak to a wide variety of readers with different backgrounds, experiences, and understanding.

Love. Loss. Fear. Masking. Silencing. Desperation. Uncertainty.

The reason I’ve chosen to create the Lucarn race as telepaths and shapeshifters is simple: Humans cannot control the telepathic power of the Lucarn they’ve enslaved, so they forbid it; the shapeshifting abilities of the Lucarn are highly coveted by the powerful men of the galaxy and exploited with impunity. My Lucarn characters show that, regardless of the life you’ve been forced to live, you can still grow, heal, and rise above.

The female main character in my first trilogy, Kitania Celeste, is the last of her clan House, and has experienced almost seven decades of captivity and exploitation. When the human Captain finds her stowed away on his small starship in Translucent Traveler, her only goal is survival. As Malcolm gets to know more about her, he values her for who she is inside, not what she looks like on the outside—although Kit struggles to see herself as he does. Revelations about her heritage come to light in Shattered Crystal, and it becomes clear by the climax of the trilogy in Dispersion of Light that, not only does Kit have to stand up to her pursuer and cruel former master, she can do so with the support of others, her found family, and a lover who would lay down his life for her.

Kit is not alone, and she never will be again. The light within her that she brings to everyone around her is precious, valued, appreciated, and she finally learns that it’s safe to just be herself… a safety she hasn’t experienced for 70 years.

Many neurodivergents can relate to these feelings, and have lived similar experiences. Many neurotypicals can relate as well.

In summary, I hope to convey these emotions to my readers, whatever category they may fall into: You are valued. You are good enough. You have so much to give, and your unique power shines brightest when you let yourself be loved. It’s difficult to do, but it’s totally worth it!