My son Sawyer spent the better part of the first eleven years of his life talking almost exclusively to himself. He could talk to others; he just usually chose not to, a choice that led to a diagnosis of autism. It was always somewhat of a mystery to us why he mostly talked to himself – though, as a writer, I had my suspicions. These were confirmed recently when Sawyer, now eighteen, confessed, “When I was a kid I loved you and Mom, but I just didn’t want to deal with you.”
He was like every author I know in this way, which I’ll get back to in a moment. Sawyer is now very concerned about his future. Because he’s been homeschooled for the last six years, he’s not sure he’s adequately prepared for a successful adult life. Plus, there’s still the autism thing. The other day he asked, “Is there something wrong with my brain? Sometimes I just can’t seem to put my words together.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your brain,” I said. “Your only problem is you hardly talked to other people for your first ten or eleven years. You really don’t learn how to communicate until you have to figure out how to help someone else understand what you understand. It’s never as simple as you think. You just need more practice, that’s all.”
Sawyer continues to teach me why authors become authors. I’ve kept a journal on and off for most of my adult life, and in it I talk to myself. While I often learn something in doing so, it is never as satisfying as when I write for publication. The problem is those other people who will read what I’ve published. I love them, but I don’t want to deal with their myriad likes and dislikes. Everyone is so goddamned unique. How easy it is to be misunderstood, and how frustrating when it happens. Sometimes Emily Dickenson’s choice to publish nothing at all seems like the best.
I think every author’s a little autistic in this way. To a bunch of eager introverts, comfortable being alone, the great ocean of other people can seem a tad unfriendly. Yet to this day the greatest comfort I have known has come from learning how to share what I love with those other people, whether they are my family or complete strangers. It takes a lot of practice, but to find the connecting thread of language is more than a gymnast’s triumph of mere skill – it is a reminder that to retreat from others is to retreat from myself.
If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual and group coaching.
Fearless Writing: How to Create Boldly and Write With Confidence.
You can find William at: williamkenower.com