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Dark Fantasy Author

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autism

ChatGPT Gave my Disabled Son the Confidence to Write: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the AI

May 4, 2023 by valneilbooks

Okay so the second part is a lie—I’ve never really been worried about artificial intelligence. I have, however, watched narrators and authors worry, and illustrators absolutely lose their shit.

Are there ethical concerns? Absolutely, though I believe generative AI can be used ethically. That’s not what this article is about, though.

This is about accessibility. It’s also about how change won’t hold you back—fear of using it will.

But first, let me tell you a bit about my son. Like me, he’s autistic. Unlike me, he did terribly in school. I won’t enumerate our struggles with IEPs and accommodations here, save to say that by the time we got him in a more accommodating program at age nine, the PTSD was already strong. He has a reading disability—decoding is difficult and large blocks of text are intimidating, so he lacks confidence, even though he can read a lot better than before.

Writing is also an issue. He lacks confidence in spelling and doesn’t want to write anything incorrectly. Unlike many typical children, he never used inventive spelling (a period where kids spell things phonetically). He also has anxiety about putting his thoughts into words.

Asking him to read or write will cause high anxiety and avoidance. If someone persists, it will lead to a meltdown. Earlier this year, his sister wanted to watch The Bad Guys. My son refused to join us. Not only that, he was angry. He wanted to watch something with us, but not that. He got really upset and ended up crying in his room. I asked him about it later and he said they tried to make him read The Bad Guys books at school. For him, the series was tainted.

He does enjoy books. We have a subscription to Epic! which has a great audiobook collection, as well as comics with a “Read to Me” option. He adores the Cat Ninja series and falls asleep listening to the audiobook of Diary of an 8-Bit Warrior. He also enjoys telling stories. He’s been working on his own for a few years, though it’s illustrations-only despite my urging to create captions. The creative spark has always been there.

Colored pencil sketch of a mutated zombie. It has a sword hand and carries a severed head. It's own head is distorted and stretched, and one eyeball dangles down its face.
One of my son’s many creature illustrations.

Even with accommodations, he was miserable in a typical school environment. He told me he felt like he was “born to suffer” and that he’d rather “jump off a mountain than go back to school.” He had mystery aches and pains and refused to do any work at school. It felt like we were prioritizing education over his mental health, except we weren’t even doing that because he wasn’t learning. And so earlier this year we decided to switch to homeschooling, sunken cost be damned.

We’d tried homeschooling once before during the pandemic. It was a shitshow. I have a teaching background and the urge to have things structured was overwhelming. Even though we are a very tech friendly household, and I used a lot of educational apps in my homeschooling, it was still very difficult for him. Anything that’s formalized or reeks of school was met with staunch refusal.

I knew we’d have to approach things differently this time. He learns best when things are unstructured and casual. We have some of our best conversations during movie night. Outschool class about making your own Roblox game, something he’s absolutely dying to learn? No, thank you. It’s got the word “school” right there.

Meme image of a Black man tapping his temple with the caption "Can't be stressed by school if you avoid anything with the word school."

On a whim, I decided to show him ChatGPT. I already use it myself, and it’s a fantastic tool. Need a brainstorm buddy? ChatGPT is great for that. I’ve given it character details and asked it how the person would react. I’ve used it to search for things more intelligently and come up with chapter titles.

I asked him to give me a prompt. Together we came up with, “Tell me a story about how a zombie became a god.” It wrote a brief story about a zombie named Zed who became a god and ruled benevolently over humans.

My son was thoroughly engaged, giving me several more prompts like “What if Zed decided to betray the humans?” and “What if Zed then became something beyond a god?” and “What if Zed had to fight a being with infinite power, something beyond imagination, that can turn into anything, any form, or end the multiverse with a single snap? If the being touches anything, the thing would get corrupted into one of his minions and experience endless torment.”

My son wanted Zed to become more and more powerful, fighting increasingly more powerful things, which led to ChatGPT basically repeating itself because power creep sucks. So I asked the kid for something different.

Suddenly the story took a new turn—Zed was helping a survivor, and they were on their way to a fortress of survivors. When we had to take a break he was bummed. He wanted to keep going! I told him to use voice-to-text and DM me his ideas. We could add them in tomorrow.

And he did! I got a bunch of messages, which I cut and pasted into Word. The following day I walked him through how to add capitalization and punctuation. From then on, my son was crafting his own story. He paced the room, dictating while I typed for him. Suddenly the story he’d been illustrating for years had text to go with it.

Sometimes he got stuck, at which point we’d ask ChatGPT to write us a scene, then make corrections.

The first day we went entirely without ChatGPT he got alarmed.

“But we didn’t use AI today!”
“We don’t have to. You can write it all if you want.”
“But I’m no good at dialogue!”
“That’s okay, I am.”

We talked about plot (he didn’t have much to start, just nonstop fight sequences), how he needed to give the characters goals, and how the book needed to end with them succeeding or failing to reach those goals. He shared his plans for the whole story. There are a million different mutated monsters he wants to incorporate and several major plot turns. I told him it would probably be better as a series, and we decided on a decent end point. The last few chapters are even more action-heavy, if that’s possible, and we talked about reminding readers what the characters are working towards.

We now have a 16,000 word rough draft. This week we’re revising, and he’s already tossed out a bunch of the AI created text in favor of his own (Zed can now summon weaponized French fries). When we’re done I’ll format it and add his illustrations. He’s super excited to print out copies and give them to everyone he knows, including his old teachers, though he’s too nervous to make it publicly available at this time. I showed him how even bestselling books have bad reviews and we talked about how no book is for everyone and that’s okay. (If you are interested in reading a copy, please let me know in the comments. I think it would do wonders for his confidence to know people want to read his book.)

When new technology emerges, society has a tendency toward catastrophizing. I remember when the Final Fantasy movie came out in 2001. People were amazed at the quality of the CGI lead, featured on the cover of Maxim, and worried the technology would make actors obsolete:

Among some actors there is concern that these “synthespians” as they are called, will eventually replace humans. …nobody doubts that producers would employ compliant computer-generated actors who require no salary, and hardly any upkeep, if they thought they could get away with it.

Tom Hanks is concerned that technology will enable unscrupulous auteurs illegally to use a computer generated image of himself – or use a digital clone to tamper with his existing performances.

He told the New York Times this week that he was troubled by it. He said: “It’s going to happen. And I’m not sure what actors can do about it.”

In defence, supporters of computer-generated human characters say they are just tools that add to the film-makers palette and that actors have no need to fear. (x)

That didn’t happen. Now it’s common to use motion capture combined with outstanding performances. Even when there is no motion capture, actors are still employed to provide voices. Computer animation is a tool, and so is AI.

Already there are visual artists making use of Stable Diffusion in their own work. I’m seeing people train the AI on their own content so they can create work faster. Others are using AI to flesh out their sketches. One guy even created a script that allows SD to draw along with him. Another created a helpful visual guide on how artists can incorporate AI into their work:

1. AI Matcaps

Create simple fresnel materials for your 3D models using Midjourney or DALLE
(2/9)#midjourney #dalle #noai #noaiart #yesaiart pic.twitter.com/1QmNPYIojb

— Sean (@ThoseSixFaces) December 21, 2022

Many artists are worried they’ll lose business. Certainly many authors are now looking to AI to generate book covers—but so are many cover artists. Most book covers are made by combining or tweaking various stock art. This, combined with genre conventions, leads to some stock images being used repeatedly on endless book covers. It’s particularly striking in fantasy, where pickings are especially slim.

Another issue with stock art is diversity—images overwhelmingly feature attractive white people. If you want a Black elf or a fat middle-aged woman, you’re usually hard pressed to find one. It’s the reason why Paranormal Women’s Fiction tends to go with symbolic covers.

AI solves this problem. I’ve seen a ton of gorgeous BIPOC characters being generated with AI. People are using it to create art that just isn’t available anywhere else.

While it’s definitely easier to get quality images with AI, it doesn’t mean there’s no work involved. Anyone who’s used AI knows it can take countless refining of prompts, blending of multiple images, and back and forth with photoshop to get what you’re looking for. As Joanna Penn likes to point out, the “ease of use” argument was also used when photography was created. After all, someone can just point and click, right? You’d think this argument was settled, but a quick search will show you that many people still argue that photography isn’t art.

AI writing isn’t nearly as advanced as AI illustration yet, so I haven’t seen as many authors getting anxious about it, but that day will come, and soon. It’s important to remember that AI is just a tool (and a helpful one at that). Savvy authors are already incorporating AI into their writing process—using it to brainstorm ideas, write ad copy, or sketch out that one type of scene they suck at writing. It allowed my son to get over that first hurdle—the blank page—and will help others do the same.

During our writing process, my dad came to visit and I told him what we were doing. I’d barely gotten the word “AI” out before he interrupted to tell me that AI was aggressive and rude. I asked him to elaborate, because ChatGPT has always been perfectly polite with me. Turns out he’d read an article in which someone asked ChatGPT the date and when it responded, tried to “correct” the AI by saying it was a different date. The user then belligerently insisted it was the wrong date until Chat GPT acted annoyed and told the user to stop or go away.

I don’t know how accurate his recounting was, but that’s how word of mouth works—it’s a big game of telephone and at the end of the day it doesn’t matter what the article said, it only matters what people remember, and what my dad remembered was that AI was rude. It wasn’t until I showed him several of my conversations with the AI and explained how I used it that he began to soften. That’s part of the problem—many of the AI naysayers haven’t tried it, refuse to try it, or specifically use it in ways designed to create a negative response, likely for clickbait.

AI is here to stay and nothing will change that. If you don’t learn to use it, you’ll be left in the dust by those who do. While it may shut doors for some, it will open countless more for people who lacked the time, money, or skill to realize their creative potential. If you haven’t already used ChatGPT, I recommend giving it a try in good faith. You might be surprised at how helpful it can be.

Filed Under: autism, blog, writing Tagged With: ai, autism, blog, chat gpt, disability

Author Burnout or Autistic Burnout?

November 4, 2021 by valneilbooks

I’ve been in autistic burnout for two years. It took me a while to realize that’s what it was, because author burnout is a thing too. I was struggling to work on my book and figured it must be author burnout. But none of the suggestions for getting out of author burnout worked for me.

Authors get burned out by doing too much work. Indie publishing is hard — we have to wear all the hats associated with a small publishing business, because that’s what we are. There is writing, but there’s also working with cover artists, editing, newsletters, marketing and ad copy. A lot of writers hate all but the writing, but I actually enjoy them as they’re part of my special interest.

Then there is the constant need to produce. It’s all about the backlist — how many books you have in your catalog. More books equals more income, but it takes time to put out that work. Some authors use a rapid release model and push themselves to write a book a month (or more). While some authors can keep up that pace, many can’t and end up slipping into burnout.

When I looked at author burnout recommendations, it was all stuff like refill your creative well (read, travel, watch movies), hire an assistant, offload what you can, and don’t push yourself to write at a pace you can’t sustain.

Yeah, none of that worked for me.

Unlike neurotypicals, autistics get energy from our special interests and get super stressed when we can’t do them. I wasn’t writing too much; I wasn’t writing at all. And it was killing me.

I thought maybe it was just the stress of 2020 and everything that was going on in the world. That certainly fed into it, but I expected things to get better after the election and after the vaccine came out. It didn’t. Even when I stopped homeschooling for the summer, things didn’t get better. If anything it got worse because now I had all this free time and couldn’t do anything with it. I couldn’t focus on my book at all.

I tried again to refill my creative well. I set my book aside without guilt and watched movies and TV shows. After month I still wasn’t feeling better. Another month, same thing.

What the hell was happening to me?

Thing is, while some of my external anxieties around politics and covid were reduced, I still had massive stressors at home. The kids bickered constantly, or else they came in and interrupted me. Interruptions are brutal on autistics, and I was getting them nonstop. My executive function isn’t great, but it’s better than anyone else’s in the household, which means a lot of the small duties fall to me. With everyone home all the time they were piling up. Taking a weekend away did nothing, because all the demands and stressors were there when I came back. Except now they were magnified because I had stuff to catch up on since I’d been gone. It was death by a thousand cuts.

I really didn’t start to see a light at the end of the tunnel until the kids went back to school. Since my husband works from home now he’s been handling the morning shift so I can sleep in. I finally have some semblance of control over my schedule and far fewer interruptions. I’m able to work it again, though it’s still hard to get back into the headspace.

I’m not out of the woods yet and feel like I’m walking on a razor thin edge over a bottomless pit of despair. I make dinner for the kids but I can’t make dinner for myself. I cook a big batch of eggs at the beginning of the week so I don’t have to make breakfast every day. I’ve been leaving the pan in the sink to soak. Normally I’d wash the dish same day, but these days it sits there for a week until I need to use it again. This is something my husband used to do that drove me nuts. Now I’m the one doing it. I see it there and know it needs cleaned but can’t muster the energy to do it.

The kids being back in school comes with its own demands. There’s all the stuff surrounding my son and his IEP which I can’t avoid, but there’s also little crap like spirit days and book fairs and homework. Book fairs are fun — we always do that — but I always skip things like spirit days and I told my youngest I don’t care she does her homework. I’m cutting back where I can and focusing on the things that actually need doing. I’m trying to be easy on myself about this.

I’m working on Dark Mind again. It’s causing an undue amount of stress not to have it finished. Again, we autistics get energy from our special interests. I can’t move forward in the series until this is done, which is why am so stressed about it. I’m hoping to have this current revision done by the end of the year, although that might be a pipe dream. I was planning to hire a sensitivity reader for part of it, but I’ve been revising for two years now and the thought of having to do major revisions again terrifies me. I may be stressing over nothing as I try to do my research, but the worry is there. I don’t know that I can handle any more at this point. I just need it done and off my plate.

Don’t know where I’m going with this, except to say that I’m doing my best and hope to recover soon. Keeping myself afloat as best I can. Getting my special interest fix in ways that don’t stress me out as much — writing newsletters, interacting with fans, and writing

Filed Under: autism, blog, writing Tagged With: actuallyautistic, author, author burnout, autism, blog, burnout, creativity, depression

Accidentally Autistic: Marcus Brewer, About a Boy

June 6, 2021 by valneilbooks

Welcome to my Accidentally Autistic series, in which I discuss headcanoned autistic characters — characters not formally declared autistic by the creators, but heavily coded that way, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

Will and Marcus

Am I watching old favorites because I’m in a funk? Maybe.

About a Boy is about a snarky, self-centered man named Will who gradually learns to open up and make genuine connections with people. I love characters like this, so it’s not surprising I like this movie. The second main character is Marcus Brewer, a twelve year old boy who meets Will on the day that his depressed mother attempts suicide. He stalks Will and forces him into a mutually beneficial friendship.

Marcus reads as autistic to me. He’s described as a “weird kid.” He randomly sings or talks aloud without realizing it, and spouts out inane facts in conversation, like that dolphins can kill sharks with their noses.

Marcus misses a lot of social nuances. When Will offhandedly says, “see you soon” as a generic parting phrase, Marcus takes him literally, calling him up to ask when they’ll be hanging out next. Will tries to get out of it, but Marcus doesn’t take the hint.

“I’m super busy at the moment.”
“I thought you did nothing.”

When Will finally acquiesces, Marcus insists his mother come along and bluntly tells Will they’ll either have to go someplace cheap or Will has to pay. Will remarks on the bluntness and Marcus reiterates, “You’re rich, we’re poor, you’re paying.”

When Marcus invites himself over to watch television, he abruptly announces his departure and leaves once he’s had enough. It feels very scripted to me. Marcus offers a hand for Will to shake and says, “Thanks, see you.” Then just leaves before Will can reply. In another scene, Will holds up a hand and says “high five.” Marcus doesn’t react and just walks past him. When Will attempts to talk about his attraction to Rachel, Marcus interrupts him to talk about his own girl problems. He also doesn’t understand slang like “taking a piss.”

Marcus seems to get along better with adults than with kids, understanding them better. He does try with other kids, but his conversations come off as forced or odd. He’s bullied horribly at school. When he’s confronted with another bully at Rachel’s house, he leaves without even announcing his departure to the adults. To me this reads as both overwhelm and unconsciously breaking a social convention.

Fiona, in her “yeti costume”

One could argue that Marcus is nerdy and weird because of his mother, who is, in the words of Will, a “daft fucking hippie,” but most kids don’t look to their parents for how to fit in past a certain age. When Marcus tries to set his mother up with Will, he had a hand in making her look less than presentable: “At least she looked good. I made her put on that nice furry jumper, and those earrings she got from a friend who went to Zimbabwe.” Even though he’s socially ostracized, he doesn’t seem to understand that his own fashion sense is as bad as his mother’s.

There were no signs of sensory issues that I saw, but most accidental portrayals have them.

So what do you think? Is Marcus autistic?

Filed Under: accidentally autistic, autism, blog Tagged With: accidentally autistic, actuallyautistic, hugh grant, Marcus Brewer, movies, Nicholas Hoult

Socializing Post Covid: When Scripts Fail

June 2, 2021 by valneilbooks

woman with paper bag on the head pointing away from herself
woman with paper bag on the head pointing away from herself

I forgot how to people. Or rather, the NTs forgot how to people, or miss doing so, because they threw off my scripts today.

Here in the U.S., “how are you doing?” is a greeting that requires no more than “fine.” Sometimes people get more specific, like “how was your weekend?” or “what do you have planned for the day?” but I can usually get away with some noncommittal response (“Same as always.” “Not much.”).

The doctor asked how my weekend was. Every day has pretty much been the same as any other day since the start of 2020, so I’d forgotten Memorial Day had just passed and he was looking for something specific. I said something about homeschool and all days being the same. Thankfully he stopped the small talk and got down to business.

The lab tech for my blood draw did not, however.

“What do you have planned for today?”

“This.”

“Oh come on, you must have something fun planned.”

(It’s a Wednesday, wtf would I have planned?) “I’m, uh, working.”

“What do you do?”

(Dying inside) “I’m an author. I’ll be working on my second book.”

“You have a book out?”

“Yes.”

“Is it on Amazon?”

“Yes”

“What’s it about?”

My brain bluescreened at this point, and I just kinda looked at him with the nervous, deer-in-headlights smile of death/leave-me-the-fuck-alone.

“Come on, what’s it about?”

. . .

“Is it explicit or something?”

“No! Oh, no no no, nothing like that. It’s just that you’re putting me on the spot and this”—motions to lab area—“makes me nervous.”

“That’s why I’m trying to get you to talk. To take your mind off of things.”

Like I don’t need to talk. Talking takes brain cells, but especially so when I’m stressed. I just want to get it over with and gtfo. I have somewhat of a needle phobia, but I have my coping mechanisms and being forced to socialize wasn’t helping. For the love of god, please just let me zone out.

I rambled about how my second novel was a bitch to finish because I had to split it in two, and that doing the research had been extremely depressing (mental health and racism in the 50s) and that the arrival of 2020 hadn’t helped.

When I left it occurred to me that on the off chance that the guy looked up my book on Amazon, he wouldn’t be able to find it, as he didn’t have the title or my pen name. I don’t know if I feel better or worse about that. Part of me is like, “he’s going to think I’m a liar.” The rational part knows it doesn’t matter.

I’ve done okay so far when interacting with extended family, but I feel like my brain needs a lot more warning/ramp up time than it used to pre-pandemic. These spur of the moment interactions are really throwing me off. Anyone else having issues reacclimating?

Filed Under: autism, blog Tagged With: 2021, autism, autistic, blog, covid, pandemic, socializing

The Importance of Identifying Autistic Characters

May 5, 2021 by valneilbooks

Article inspired by this thread (screencaps below), among other things. I’ve been wanting to write something about this for a while. Nothing like a blog post to make you feel productive when you’re stuck on your second book.

In prepping for my book launch, I ordered proof copies of my paperback and distributed them to various friends and family to help with last-minute typo checks. Much to my chagrin, not one, but three people flipped to the back and read the author’s notes first (who does that?!). I purposely put it at the back because I wanted people to experience the story and characters without their preconceptions of autism.

Two of my family members disliked the author notes, saying they felt unnecessary and overly apologetic. One person said that by labeling the characters, I was constraining my creativity and preventing myself from being able to change them later.

I should mention that both of these people are cis white men. One of them is neurodiverse, but doesn’t really see it as a core part of his identity. They’ve grown up seeing themselves in every form of media.

I haven’t.

I grew up feeling distinctly at odds with the characters who were supposed to represent me on screen—girls who needed boys to save them, girls who were scared of snakes and lizards, girls who weren’t allowed to go on adventures. I idolized Peter Pan and hated Wendy. I’m not trans, but it certainly made me have a disconnect from my gender. To be female was to be without options.

As I got older, I sometimes glimpsed a character I identified with, but they were usually played for laughs, in a “can you believe how weird this person is?” kind of way. I occasionally saw myself in the nerd archetypes, but they were always male and typically misogynistic. Female nerds only existed to go through the dramatic makeover arc—ugly outcast to pretty princess.

There were no one characters who acted like me and were female and were accepted. And nothing was labeled. I didn’t know about autism or anxiety or sensory processing disorder or gender fluidity or any sexuality besides gay and straight. I was given labels of my own, though: weird, shy, quiet, rude, bossy, loud.

It’s a special kind of hell growing up different, knowing you’re different, but not knowing why. No one else seemed to be as sensitive to sound or touch or texture, so I just didn’t talk about it for fear of coming off even more weird. My family made accommodations because they loved and accepted me, but strangers made a point of pushing my buttons. I tried not to give them any more ammo.

I was in my mid-thirties before my son was diagnosed and I learned what autism really looked like. Before then I only knew about the condition peripherally. I knew someone with an autistic kid, but he was whisked away from playgroup after his diagnosis and put in intensive ABA therapy. I knew about it from a Bruce Willis movie, Mercury Rising, but only remembered one line (something like, “Autism, what’s that mean? Nothing gets through?” “No, it means everything gets through.”). I’d seen Rain Man, but didn’t know it was about autism and certainly didn’t recognize myself in the character.

It would have been nice to see characters like me presented in an authentic way and have them labeled as such. Seeing myself could have led to earlier diagnosis. Instead, I fumbled my way into adulthood feeling broken and masking who I was for fear that no one outside my family would put up with the real me. I now have the words to describe by own experiences and advocate for myself.

Representation matters. It helps us feel seen. It helps others see us.

This is normalization and acceptance.

Unfortunately, representation for invisible conditions sucks. I don’t want to diminish the experiences of other marginalized groups because we all get shafted, but at least when a BIPOC walks on screen it’s somewhat obvious (which is why whitewashing and racebending are hot button issues in the first place). Invisible conditions/disabilities/sexualities don’t get that. LGBTQA people have to guess, unless it’s explicitly shown on screen (and even then, they have to deal with queer baiting). Autistics usually have to headcanon characters and get backlash from neurotypicals when we do, because a character that “functional” can’t possibly be autistic, right?

So why do creators leave us hanging? There are three main reasons:

They don’t know that’s what they’re writing.

Writers often use real people as inspiration for characters. Since so many adults are still undiagnosed, particularly women and BIPOC, it’s entirely possible that they don’t know that what they’re seeing is autism. Other writers may be using character tropes like the manic pixie dream girl, the quirky nerd, or the weird kid, which are heavily coded autistic.

They know exactly what they’re writing, but worry about getting it wrong and making people angry.

So they just don’t label it at all, even though everybody knows. It’s a way to maintain plausible deniability and deflect blame. This is how you get characters like Sheldon Cooper.

This is a self-fulfilling prophesy. The less representation there is, the better that representation needs to be. So much hinges on that one character because it’s all people may see. This is the crux of Hari Kondabolu’s argument in The Problem with Apu. When all people know is Rain Man, that’s how they think autism is. More characters spreads out the burden, because accurate representation no longer hinges on just a few iterations.

They know exactly what they’re writing, but the studio/publisher doesn’t want them to state it.

Kathy Reichs based the character Bones off an Aspie she knew. She has openly admitted this in interviews (I think it was this podcast), but stated that the network didn’t want to put a label on the character, cause god forbid you make a successful, awesome character autistic. I mean, people might get the idea that it’s not a tragedy.

Call me masochistic, but these days when I see a character I identify with, the first thing I do is frantically google to see if it was done intentionally. We all want to be seen, and validation from the creator gives us that. I fist pumped when Robert Kirkman gave a definitive yes in the comics regarding Eugene Porter. I also chickened out asking Mark Lawrence if Nona was autistic, instead asking about a minor, more clearly coded character from another series, out of fear he’d ruin my headcanon. It sucks when you want to know, but also you kinda don’t, because what if the creator says something unintentionally insulting, like “My character is too smart/capable/functional/awesome to be autistic. They’re just quirky.”

I don’t want to put other autistics through that. I know how much effort it takes to ask and how vulnerable it makes you feel. My author notes might not matter to most people, but it matters to me and it matters to people like me. I also hope it helps people see us as more than the Hollywood caricatures they’re used to. Maybe they’ll recognize someone they know. Maybe they’ll see that autism, while it comes with certain challenges, isn’t the tragedy they’ve been led to believe.

Hell, maybe they’ll recognize themselves.

Filed Under: autism, blog Tagged With: actually autistic, actuallyautistic, autism, autistic character, autistic representation, fall of magic, medea

Accidentally Autistic: The Queen’s Gambit

October 30, 2020 by valneilbooks

Welcome to the first installment of my new series, Accidentally Autistic, in which I discuss headcanoned autistic characters — characters not formally declared autistic by the creators, but heavily coded that way, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

(Minor spoilers)

The Queen’s Gambit is a Netflix series about a fictional chess prodigy in the 1960s. The main character is Beth Harmon, an orphan who spends her nights staring at the ceiling and imagining chess pieces moving on a giant board. I was immediately struck by how autistic she seemed, and watching further episodes only strengthened that perception. When I brought it up with a group of autistic women, everyone who’d seen the show had the same reaction. Autistic vibes all around.

But what makes Beth autistic?

It’s not any one thing, but a multitude of small things. Beth is intelligent, socially awkward, and often seemingly distant. She’s reserved and you get a sense that she’s evaluating her words before speaking. When she does speak off-the-cuff, it’s obvious she’s not saying what is expected of someone her age and gender. It would be easy to chalk up her behavior to the loss of her mother, but even there, she doesn’t react in a typical way. Standing beside the car crash which had just taken her mother’s life — a crash she herself survived — Beth’s non-reaction is striking. It’s clear to any autistic watching that she’s having a shutdown, which is an internalized version of a meltdown. “Sure, anyone would be upset in that situation,” you might say. Yes, but it doesn’t stop there.

Beth Harmon demonstrating the spectacular resting bitch face so many of us have.

When Beth arrives at the orphanage she initially sticks to the rules, taking her pills as prescribed instead of listening to a fellow orphan and saving the green pill for later. This may be due in part to the directions themselves, which aren’t exactly clear:

Beth: What are they?

Jolene: Vitamins.

Second girl, laughing: Magic vitamins.

Jolene: If I were you, I’d save the green ones till the nighttime. Otherwise they turn off right when you need them to turn on, if you know what I mean.

Clear as mud if you’re an autistic kid, and Beth is obviously puzzled. Should she take them or not? Are the girls playing a trick on her or trying to help her? Beth is often puzzled by the actions of others. Jolene, a fellow orphan, is the one to initiate a friendship with Beth, who doesn’t show any real interest in others. Beth is happy to be alone and doesn’t really seem to fit in, especially once she starts attending a typical high school. She spends her days and nights hyperfixating on chess. It’s all she thinks about and really all she wants to talk about. As is the case for many of us, it is only through her special interest that Beth starts to make friends on her own, though the male players are initially put off by her confidence and lack of social decorum. (Side note: It is incredibly refreshing to see the interactions between Beth and the other female player. When it’s obvious that Beth has never been to a tournament, the other girl patiently answers all her bluntly-asked questions. It would have been easy to make her snide over Beth’s delivery and I’m very happy they didn’t do that.)

When Beth’s chess skills win her notoriety, the previously dismissive girls at her high school make an attempt to include Beth in their circle. Beth attends one of their gatherings. She tries her best to fit in, picking an outfit she thinks will impress the girls, a black formal dress. The other girls sit together on one big couch, in more casual, somewhat-matching outfits. Beth sits alone on a stool, posture rigid, hands clasped. They ask her about boys. Beth doesn’t understand the purpose of the question and then misses an innuendo about “trading Rooks.” When the girls turn on the television and start singing along, Beth stares at them like she just walked into a musical and flees the party.

Still got it!

Beth cares deeply about her adoptive mother, though she doesn’t demonstrate this emotively. Her care is shown in small gestures—cautioning her about drinking too much and joining her to watch a show. Initially I was concerned this would turn into a predatory relationship, but Mrs. Wheatley shows real affection for Beth. Once she truly understands Beth’s passion for chess, she listens to Beth infodump and watches her games to show support, even though she can’t follow all the moves. When a reporter starts asking Beth inappropriate questions, Mrs. Wheatley promptly hustles her out.

Episode five contains very striking examples of what it’s like to navigate romantic relationships as an autistic woman. An old colleague, Harry, takes an interest in Beth and offers to help her practice. He’s been following her career and has gone to great lengths to make himself more attractive, fixing his teeth, but Beth doesn’t seem to notice or send any of the usual cues of someone who’s interested. She’s not gushy or romantic. When Harry becomes discouraged decides to move on, Beth logically suggests he move in with her.

The first time Harry kisses Beth she’s momentarily stunned. He interprets this as a lack of interest. Beth quickly corrects him, clarifying that she simply wasn’t ready, but that she is now. Being mentally prepared for physical contact is totally in autistic thing, as we have a lot of sensory issues and a strong need for knowing what to expect (after a decade of marriage, my spouse has learned to verbally ask permission before initiating a hug). Post-coitus, Beth sits up and immediately starts reading. Harry tries to engage Beth in conversation, and while she does talk, her focus is on the book, leaving Harry confused and feeling dismissed. He can’t see that Beth is happy with the relationship and enjoys his company, that her reading the book means she’s comfortable enough to be herself around him. Harry’s not getting the emotional connection he wants and so he leaves.

Beth is an exceptional example of how to write autism well. It’s not the focus of her story, but you clearly see how it impacts her relationships. I doubt the writers had autism in mind when they wrote Beth, but she’s so strongly coded that autistics can identify with her.

© Val Neil All right reserved. Images belong to Netflix.

Filed Under: accidentally autistic, autism, blog Tagged With: accidentally autistic, actuallyautistic, autism, autistic character, beth harmon, netflix, queen's gambit, the queen's gambit, the queen's gambit netflix

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