I find myself at a bit of a loss for words -- which is really saying something for me -- when it comes to talking about this book project, Poor Girl, Poor World, a story about a little girl on the spectrum. I don’t consider myself a children’s writer, but I’m trying to respect the craft enough to go where creativity leads me. I am but a vessel (and a rusty one at that) for the movement of ideas. And the idea for Poor Girl, Poor World came to me in the shower -- as most good ones do -- on a rare occasion when I was not also being monitored my multiple tiny humans screaming at me or trying...
My girl is three today. I am, admittedly, a bit of a disaster. Teetering on a tightrope between relief as she becomes older and more self-sufficient, and a deep sense of fear for what this next stage of life will throw at her. I felt guilty writing this. Like it was inappropriate, somehow, to not focus only on the positive milestones reached. But I'm just not in that headspace today. THREE is a big number in the autism world. It's the closing of the most influential early intervention window. It's when the conversation shifts from hopeful suppositions of "catching up" to a discussion of how to support a child with a disability long term. I don't know who will read...
