Thank you, new joiners, for being here.

Building a community of people in a niche like ours is not easy. Making the community active with posters and commenters is even less.

But if you, twenty-nine people, joined, you’ve seen something that made you think, “Yeah, I’ll give it a try.”

What was it?

Here is what you can do, today, to break the ice and feel how welcoming this place is, for all queer and/or neurodivergent people who like to write, read and create.

- Introduce yourself here: https://www.reddit.com/r/writingdivergently/s/nB65o2KfP3
- Post your favourite book, or the one you’re writing now, or the one you’re reading now
- reach out to me if you wish to post via me. We know not everyone likes to write posts, but everyone deserves to be welcome

Enjoy the space and let us know what you would improve or introduce.

Take care out there,

Alexein

I mean it kind of came.

More than a decade ago, I was in uni and I wrote a scene of a woman fighting demons in her modern office, alongside a man who looked like your classic Diablo III Barbarian.

Two years ago or so, I wrote a diary after being in therapy for some time. That diary was about my youth and the anger my parents gave me, when they told me I wasn’t gay and convinced me to go through therapy to prove it.

That woman was everything I loved in a Fantasy: femininity, strength, fight.

That boy was everything I wanted to leave behind through healing. Or find again, maybe.

I merged the two. One day I thought it could be a great idea to insert both in a single story, as two sides of one coin.

The story that came out turned out to be about an autistic adult woman and a queer boy, separated by barriers that keep worlds afar, and only they can cross. If they’re together. But they aren’t. They just feel each other, like a Sense8 kind of bond.

It’s not like I wanted to represent autistic or queer people.

It was personal. It was my story. My relationship with my feminine side and my wish to see that boy be strong and wield incredible powers.

Looking back, I see now that story appeals to many who hear me talking about it and say, “I went through that!” or “Vanessa is so relatable!” or “Danny makes me want to hug him.”

That’s why I thought, maybe stories that are a bit unconventional and niche, those about the rough sides of being an autistic adult masking through life and being the hero, or the queer boy hiding his sexuality, imagining to run away until he crosses to another world and his wish is granted… maybe that’s wholesome. There’s beauty in telling that story.

I wish I could say, I wanted to represent people like me because it’s right and I made an artistic choice.

I didn’t.

I just told my story and what I knew from my life and the life of people I knew, and somehow it became about magic, parallel worlds and a prophecy.

But deep down I healed myself with it.

I was selfish.

For once, I’m not ashamed.

I don’t think this needs more words. I only know I am thinking about it for days and last night I dreamt it was delayed and I was mad. Hate not having control over things.

I think it’s perfect for our subreddit. Has anyone read it?

The Spirit Bares its Teeth, by Andrew Joseph White.

Trans and autistic main character, by a trans and autistic author.

The cover is stunning, gives off the book’s vibes in a second. It’s YA. Oh and the protagonist has violet eyes, how cool is that?

From the Blurb, the concept I find most courageous is the arranged marriage narrative for a trans man who doesn’t want to be a wife, he’s a boy. I’m very curious to read this character.

——

I wish I could write stories with such powerful representation that become bestsellers, because bringing trans and queer and autistic people on a bestselling level means it’s all about good writing and a story that is compelling enough to make people fall in love with it. It’s not about who the MC is and how typical they are.

I have this way to learn things by imitation and do them.

At school, every beginning of new school grade I was the worst student. Six months after, I was the best.

I never knew things though, I just created structures and logics and read people (teachers) to know what they wanted and how.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that is studying: learn things. But when others could see the big picture, I was always building things in tiny blocks, like ok: I go from A, to B, to C…. Even at work I see people jumping to C and I need to know all information to get there.

Sometimes then I get there better, with results that are good, but I always stick to the boundaries of what I have learned. I can’t invent things.

With people, I learn how they behave and do the same.

And I approach everything as if it’s something I need to learn the rules of: I write? Ok I learn the rules from feedback and apply the feedback. But I never feel like I know anything about it.

Whenever something out of the expected rules I learned happens, I’m like “where was this explained? Where was this written?”

Even a downvote on reddit for me it’s like, “what did I do wrong?” As if human reactions to me must be written somewhere.

Anyway, I’m just upset today because I try to achieve things but feel like I will never because it doesn’t come natural to me, I just learn scripts.

Which always makes me question who am I? Am I good at something?

You have that perfect schnitzel, those fries, and some freaky German (live you, Freund) puts liquid sauces in your plate. Why do you hate me?

Certain foods can’t touch. It is my decision whether or not they will.

Do you experience the same?

For me it’s tastes I like with tastes I like less. One can’t contaminate the other. Or liquids touching crunchy. In fact, I hate Montreal’s poutine. Why would you ever mix fries with soggy or mushy stuff?

OUTRAGEOUS.

My autistic traits are many, but this one really pisses me off and makes me so sad when it happens 😆

We are 23 and I am impressed.

Thanks for being part of this new subreddit where we discuss books with representation for ND and/or queer people.

We also give spaces to ND/queer authors to promote their published stories with representation.

And there’s always space to share your experiences!

Use the flairs: we have user flairs and post flairs.

Now, introduce yourselves here: https://www.reddit.com/r/writingdivergently/s/2ExH2aowLN

Let us know a bit about you!

We hope you enjoy this subreddit and we’re always open to feedback.

Take care,

Alexein, your moderator.

One of those days.

I organised a dinner with friends. Do you think I have an easy, fresh and light dinner? Fuck no, I‘m Italian and my cooking started two days in advance.

Pie, custard, pizza, roasted eggplant, roasted peppers, clean the house, buy groceries, write your book, edit the other book.

Result? Headache, I almost cried because the dough levitated too much, the custard is too liquid, my pain too much.

I can’t do this. My first headache was yesterday. Today, a new one. Why am I like this?

Every time I get stressed I get headaches. It’s actually more cervical/neck pain. I always had it.

And everything seems to suck and turn out shit because I can’t seem to put two plus two together.

Why?

I am neurodivergent. My husband loves to game and he’s taught me to appreciate gaming over the years.

I have a strange reaction to gaming though: when I stop, images, scenes, remain in my head. In fact I can even not sleep because those frames keep repeating in my head. I “see” them when I close my eyes.

Is this a thing? Is this common, regardless of being ND?

This is rant, not rage bating. Apologies in advance.

- Calling it ‘tism. It’s Autism

- The posts with weird spoons

- The “we’re all a bit on the spectrum”

- Saying ND is quirky. It’s not a quirk

- This is not bad in my head anymore thanks to those who explained it 🤗 Neurospicy: again, why spicy? What’s spicy about brains? We don’t need to look cute and appealing

- The tough reality of being friends when different neurotypes. Let’s face it, someone will grow bored or someone will grow silent

Any more?

EDIT: thanks to those who gave me new perspectives to be less rigid, and for interacting kindly despite my rant 🤗

And if you want, tell me how we’re doing and what stops you from creating posts of your own

View Poll

We usually talk about troubles, worries, sides that make us feel “less” in a world made for the most.

Today, I wish to celebrate the good. Because seeing the world with a perspective that is not the one of the many, has a lot of benefits.

My positive experience is: my trauma made me someone who can make anyone feel comfortable. I know what hurts and anyone opens up to me. My neurodivergence gives me an imagination through writing and craft that is so vivid! I sometimes don’t know where do all these things I write come from 😆

In more than sixteen years, it never happened.

I have spoken about that experience, spread the word, said it was against the law, but I have never dreamed of him.

In fact, in my dream, it wasn’t him. It was a mix of him and my brother. Possibly because my brother liked to say I had to pay women to have sex with them and see how I felt. That’s what my father said, too. And my therapist, well, he pushed me to get Serena’s number and I tried. She even gave it to me but sadly told me she was already seeing someone.

Hey, I tried doc.

This dream means something at this stage of my life, when I am an adult, I have moved away from my family, I am happily in a gay marriage, I write books with queer and neurodivergent characters, and I have a job that allows me to live my life with everything I need and more.

I would have liked a dream where I shouted at him the truth, but in the dream I was my usual self: subtle, not explicit. I showed him my ring and he said “You got married?”

“Yeah,” I said, my expression neutral.

He went on saying he was sure I had a good life, a family, a house and there I said, “Nah, no house, but I have a family.”

No. I didn’t confess him I was married to a man.

He kept talking and I asked him, “So, you say, I was convinced of being gay?”

Proudly he gave an explanation I can’t recall. Yes, he was.

Now, my conscious self was witnessing that dream, and I waited for myself to do something.

In the dream, I imagined I was wired, recording his words to prove he’s a fraud and to report him. I imagined I was there to end him. Even literally. I know it’s a bad and inhumane thing to say, but I imagine how I would close him in his house and light a fire.

Maybe I write too much about murders.

Instead, I let him think he’d always been right. Until I stepped outside, closed a window he asked me not to close - wow, Alex, such a badass you are - and he said, “I’ll see you.”

But I whispered, “See you never.”

He asked me, as I rushed away, “Why never?”

I rushed and rushed and he followed me and I woke up, scared. In the end he was getting to me once again.

Did he win even in my dream? Do I believe that facing certain people, convinced in their ignorance about their truths, is useless?

I have proof of that. Whenever I explain to my family why they messed up the little kid I was, alone at sixteen, unable to talk about the therapy, my sexuality, to anybody, isolated so everyone could do and say things to me and no one knew, they just say “It’s the past.”

Yeah. But it lingers. It haunts my nights.

And if you’re a parent who’s even fathoming to change your child, I hope you stop right now.

Love isn’t fixing. Love is accepting, protecting, making your kid feel safe to speak, live, be himself at least in his own home.

That’s why I wrote my debut novel. So that kid could become a hero and leave that family, finding the one he deserved. Maybe I wrote my true story. After all, that’s what I did. But unlike Danny, I didn’t travel to other worlds, I don’t wield powers. I didn’t get away when I was sixteen.

I deserved a family.

I’m lucky I have one now.