Over on twitter today I’ve been involved in a fab conversation with lots of other autistic adults. People have been discussing how they felt post diagnosis, which, particularly for those of us with late dx, can be a whole complicated bunch of things. And then people have gone on to talk about special interests and what makes them happy.
Right at the moment I’m not doing very well keeping myself happy. I’m watching all these people talking about happy making activities and all I’m doing is getting through the days.
I don’t have a special interest at the moment. I was trying to do nanowrimo to finish either of the books I’ve been working on, but while a few people have said really lovely things about my writing, every time I’ve tried for a commercial opinion it’s overwhelmingly negative. I chose that word carefully. It overwhelms my ability to believe in myself, to focus on the story, to find the words.
I’m sure right about now you’re telling me I need to grow a thicker skin. To not worry about the commercial appeal, or even the readers. To tell the story for the sake of the story. But I’m a little greedy. I wanted my story to be one people would want to read. To buy.
I’ve been writing for a very long time. (About as special an interest as I’ve ever had I guess.) And I always come back to it. But I’m very bad at finishing things. (Honestly, you’ve no idea. This house is full of half read books, incomplete crochet /knitting /sewing projects. Paintings, drawings, manuscripts.)
What is it that I’m worried about? That I’ll finish the story and no one will read it?
Well, yes. That’s up there.
And I don’t think it’s that I won’t have anything else to carry on with when I finish, if I didn’t start anything else I still don’t think I’d run out of projects.
There’s something about finishing things that gives me a problem. I don’t know quite why. I’d like to understand what it is that gives me difficulty seeing things through. But it’s something that I guess I’ll go on working through.
And tomorrow, I’ll do some more writing.
