Invisible Friend Jesus and the Resistance

hippieInvisible Friend Jesus sits next to me on my bed. He’s cleaning his toenails with a file, scraping the dirt from under them and flicking it onto my quilt. It’s gross, but part of me wants to save the dirt and put it on display in some cathedral.

“I feel like I should be cleaning your feet for you or something,” I say.

He glances up at me, smirking. “Do you want to?” He holds the file out toward me.

I lean away from it. “Not really.”

He goes back to his task, shrugging. “Cleaning other people’s feet isn’t really part of your culture. It’d be sort of awkward if you wanted to, to tell you the truth.”

“Another thing about my culture,” I say, “while we’re on the subject: cleaning your toenails on someone else’s bed: not really okay. But it’s cool, because we’re friends. The quilt washes.”

He pauses in digging out a particularly stubborn deposit in the corner of his big toe. “Sorry. I didn’t really think about it. My feet were just dirty.”

“Naw, it’s cool, it’s cool. Really.”

He hesitates a moment then, seeing I’m serious, goes back to digging.

I watch him with disgusted fascination. “I didn’t really think about Jesus’ feet getting dirty before. I thought you were perfect in every way.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The Bible talks about my dirty feet. It’s a little embarrassing, but it was necessary to the story, I think.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

He wipes the file on the hem of his suit jacket and starts in on shaping His nails. “I’m a human being. The whole point of me—as a religious concept, anyway—is that I’m a human like any other, with dirty feet and everything. I’m God’s way of showing the world that it’s okay to be human.

“Dirty feet don’t make us ‘imperfect’, anyway,” he continues, “they just make us human.” He frowns in concentration, trying to shape his pinky toenail just so. “It’s the same with all the other stuff that goes along with being human. None of it is imperfection. All the trouble starts when people start blaming and judging others for what they see as their flaws. It’s what I spoke out against, because we would be a lot happier if we’d quit worrying about that stuff and just accepted ourselves and others.”

“I get you,” I say, “but that’s some complicated shit when you get into issues of people’s  beliefs threatening others. I’d say that sort of behavior truly is a ‘flaw’.”

He nods. “I know what you mean. If you’d notice, the Bible talks about how I lost it on a few people for doing stupid and hateful stuff, too.”

I grin. “Yeah, I remember some of that stuff. Those are some of my favorite parts.”

“I can’t say it wasn’t satisfying.” He clips the edge off one of his nails and flicks it away; I wince as it lands on my pillow. “Living on Earth is a complicated thing,” He says. “God understands that. But God is bigger than all that, too. God wants you to forgive your enemies, even for threatening and hurting you. Notice I don’t say ‘embrace’, just ‘forgive’. And I don’t mean we should lie down and let them trample us, but we should forgive them for trying.

“This is not an easy thing to do, when you’re just trying to get by as a mortal person, and assholes keep messing with you and your family—messing with them, or worse,” He says. “God understands that it’s difficult. He knows we won’t always succeed—that we’ll flip our shit sometimes—and forgives us for it. But we’d be a lot happier if we stopped trying to get revenge. Because, in the process, sometimes we end up becoming the thing that we hate: we end up threatening and hurting other people in return. Then those people act out in self-defense and in greater hatred, and the cycle continues.”

“That’s why you forgave the people who crucified you,” I say. “As an example that it can be done by human beings, even in those circumstances.”

He nods, stretching out his legs and wiggling his toes. “Yep. That shit wasn’t easy, but I felt better after I’d done it. Better in my soul, anyway; I was in some pretty bad agony physically, to say the least. But forgiveness helps the forgiver as much as the forgiven.”

I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them. “I wish your followers would listen to you about all this stuff, because my country is really scary right now. It’s starting to look like Nazi Germany. I have a hard time turning the other cheek when people are threatening our health and lives, and when they’re supporting racism, bigotry, and the destruction of society and the environment. And most of the people doing that in the U.S. claim to be Christian.”

He gives me a long look. “Human beings have a long way to go before they find the Kingdom of God. I know it seems like this battle has already been fought, but what a lot of people don’t realize is, their lives are short and the battle is long. The fight is ongoing, and will continue until the Kingdom is achieved. All I can say is, we have made progress. And God is still with us, no matter what.”IMG_2458.JPG


Don’t Assume You Understand Neurodiversity. You Don’t.

I’m going to write another bitchy blog post, because I’m organizing my thoughts. I invite all people to read, and comment if you want, but this is really a conversation that needs to happen within the neurodiverse community, without paying a lot of attention outside input.

I love the term neurodiversity (or neurodivergence*). When I first heard it,  a light came on in my mind. I finally had a word for something I’d felt my whole life: that “mentally ill” isn’t the right word for who I am, because I’m not ill. This is just my personality, and you can’t (nor should you want to) cure me of it. (Yes, I want/need some symptoms treated, but that’s a different discussion.)

The problem is, the term “neurodiverse” is a catch-all term for A LOT of different sorts of people. This is one of those “duh” statements, but I think we need to meditate on it. I hear a lot of people say “I’m neurodiverse, too,” (or, worse yet, “my aunt is neurodiverse”) as a precursor to statements indicating they think they understand what life is like for ALL neurodiverse people.

Ugh. Amirite?

I don’t want to stop using the term “neruodiverse”. I lurves it, and don’t want to complicate the language by having more and more terms, or just labeling ourselves with our diagnoses. “Neurodiverse” expresses an idea about all of us, that we’re not ill and are okay the way we are, and thus is a good catch-all term.

But we all need to check ourselves when we start thinking we understand what it’s like for all people under the neurodiverse umbrella. There’s a huge spectrum not only of different diagnoses under that umbrella, but also of levels of marginalization. Some of us struggle daily with the problems our neurodiversity causes us. It’s affects everything we do, and every conversation we have with others. Other people’s neurodiversity has only a minor effect on their lives.

If you have minor clinical depression, for instance, you’re neurodiverse in my opinion (unless you choose to not identify that way, of course). Depression is something I experience, and is super shitty. It can make you miss work, sabotage relationships, hurt yourself. But, in the case of minor depression, most people won’t know you have it unless you tell them.

mentalOn the other end of the spectrum is my partner, Phoenix. He has schizophrenia and can’t even walk silently into a room without people reacting to his neurodiversity: his strangeness radiates from him like a glow—a beautiful glow, in my opinion, but not in the opinions of most others. He’s one of the very best, coolest, smartest, kindest people I’ve ever met, but most folks will never know that because their reactions to him are almost uniformly negative. They avoid him, or have a (misguided) “protective” anger reaction (for instance, they call the cops on him for yelling and pacing in his yard. They beat the shit out of him for talking to himself, because they think he’s “talking shit” about them). At best, they pity him and don’t take anything he says seriously.

You can imagine the effect this sort of marginalization could have on a person. Phoenix is positive and confident, but he’s told me on various occasions that before I came along, he thought he’d be alone for his whole life.

I, for the sake of you knowing my viewpoint, fall somewhere in between that. I struggle daily with my bipolar and PTSD on an internal level, and it’s been a defining force of my entire life path. It’s destroyed more than one relationship, and caused me to seek out abusive and toxic ones. It’s landed me in prison. It’s made it extremely hard for me to maintain employment for more than a few years at a time, and has cost me many promotions because of latent bias (and no, I’m not being paranoid. I have direct evidence). The list goes on. But in my daily interactions, at least at times I’m not in crisis, people generally just think I’m a little bit eccentric or “off”. It certainly colors their reactions toward me, but they might not even guess at first blush that I’m neurodiverse. Plus, I have the advantage of not being one of those people that comes off as creepy. At least it doesn’t seem like it, usually, based on how I’m treated (I mean, I’m not creepy, right? Tell me if I am). So my neurodiversity doesn’t isolate me in that way (though it will cause me to self-isolate at times).

So, what I’m saying is, someone with minor depression can’t know what it’s like for people like me, or people like Phoenix. And I can’t know what it’s like for someone with Autism, or schizoaffective disorder, etc. But I can probably identify with what other neurodiverse people go through better than most neurotypical people can, and I will endeavor to listen and be accepting—to be a “safe space” for other neurodiverse people to express their feelings and experiences. I will never say neurodiverse people are “doing it for attention” or any of those other horrible, marginalizing things neurotypical (or self-hating neurodiverse) people say.

The reason we label ourselves as neurodiverse is to try to seek out people who understand what it’s like for us, and will listen and accept us for who we are. Thus, it’s very, very important to be careful of behaviors in the community that can cause us to marginalize and isolate our peers even more. We need to be there for one another. Let us remember to listen and be good allies, as well as good peers.

* I don’t like that this term as much, for the silly reason that I don’t like the novel Divergent. We all have our quirks.

Drug Addicted and Autistic: A More Common Combination Than You Think

So glad for this. I’m not autistic, but I’ve struggled with heroin addiction too…it helped the negative symptoms of my bipolar/PTSD, like depression, psychosis and anxiety.


Addicted and autistic? At Spectrum, Maia Szalavitz explores the unexpected biological and psychological commonalities of addiction and autism, and some new science that suggests that combination may be more common than you think.

Shane Stoner’s addiction began in 2008. He lost a factory job, his parents divorced, his father died — and then a relative introduced him to heroin. “I felt like heroin gave me confidence,” Stoner says. “I could get out of bed in the morning and do the day. No matter what happened, it made me feel like it was going to be all right.” It erased his constant anxiety.

Stoner, now 44, eventually entered detox in 2013 after he was arrested for stealing copper from an abandoned house. It was obvious at that point that he was addicted to heroin. But it would take several more years for him to get the diagnosis that truly helped…

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Social Justice Warriors are Hurting the Cause of Social Justice*

We’re truly in dark times. Trump is building concentration camps for immigrants. They’re lynching Muslims in my (very-blue, even) state. People are getting thrown out of the country for disagreeing with the president. Jewish cemeteries are being desecrated. The list is too long. There are too many fires popping up everywhere to even keep track of.

It’s overwhelming, and unfortunately, this shit going on now is just piling up on top of the shit a lot of people were dealing with beforehand. This is just the bigotry, hatred, maliciousness…you name it…coming out into the open where EVERYONE can see (as long as they’re not blind, like the majority of Trump supporters).

There’s no way to really deal productively with this, from the position of “normal” people. All the lobbying, protesting, organizing, social action, and self-care in the world is just busywork while we’re watching our world crumble. Most of us, all we can do is stay strong, and be there for one another. We take the actions we can to try to bang sense and action into our government and to prop up our failing democracy, and to take care of ourselves and others who need it, but ultimately we’re relying on those in positions of power to do what they need to do and can to save the country and the freedoms we’ve been fighting for—have fought for forever—and that we’re so proud of.

Amongst all this, I see a lot of people on the left who are hurting our cause. And we can’t afford that. Not right now.

There has been a lot of upheaval in the left. There are a lot of tensions between marginalized groups and more advantaged liberals that are now coming to a head, because for people who don’t have a real dog in this fight, it seems difficult for them to understand the depth of the anger, terror, resentment, and feeling of betrayal disadvantaged people are feeling. These conversations are happening. They’re being sorted out. Please, God, I hope so, because we cannot sustain a rift right now.

I started to suspect that Trump could win when I first started paying attention to the campaigns. During the first part, I was dealing with the destruction of my marriage and some severe mental health instability (anyone new to this blog, I have severe bipolar and PTSD, and I deal with psychosis, suicidal behaviors…blah blah blah). So I wasn’t paying attention. When I started to, I had a feeling of creeping dread. But still, when he was elected, I was stunned, and thrown way off balance. I had a bad episode.

I started out talking to people about the election from a place of pure terror and rage. And it was infuriating that people supposedly on my side didn’t understand my anger. They said I was being immature and counterproductive.

I’m mentally ill, sure, but I’m an adult. I’m also used to second-guessing my feelings. People blame and belittle me for my behavior, and because of that I’ve spent my whole life fighting out-of-control emotions which I can’t actually control without medication. So yeah, even when I was in that state, part of me knew they had a point. But they needed to give me space for my anger.

I’m starting to come out of that angry place. Thank God. It was a horrible place to be. Some people aren’t out of it yet.

Most of you know what happened to me on Twitter the other day. People were so angry, that they forgot that they needed to listen to me. They didn’t realize that I understood their anger, but that I was speaking from a different standpoint (different types of marginalization, a different place in my processing cycle, different life experiences). They mistook the fact that I didn’t agree with all their points, for deafness to their arguments. I was listening, though.

The real barrier to communication was that they weren’t listening to me. Which is too bad, not just for me, but because people never listen to “people like me” with severe mental illness, and they might have learned something and strengthened the cause of social justice.

But they didn’t strengthen the cause. Quite the opposite. Those people, in their anger, embodied THE WORST of the bigotry I get from the right wing. They said I was whiny, delusional, a snowflake, and that I needed to sit down and shut up and listen to people who really knew what they were talking about. And then they didn’t give me space for my FURY that they would DARE say that shit to me.

People like that play right into the hands of the alt-right, who say we’re a bunch of delusional snowflakes who think no one has a right to an opinion but us. It creates a habitat for more gaslighting. It is counterproductive.

I say this even though I understand their anger . Some of the people I spoke to had damn good points. I know that because I was listening. Some people DID listen to me, and I thank them for it.

In the meantime, though, some of the worst of those people damaged my career. And I’ve spent the last few days clinging to my sanity and trying to stay out of the hospital for the sake of my mother (whom I’m caring for after her open-heart surgery a week ago) and my daughter (who is also openly bisexual and recently diagnosed as neurodiverse, is dealing with a lot of marginalization and bullying because of it, and needs a solid example of a mother who knows how to do this shit).

It wasn’t the right-wing that marginalized me. It was the left.

They need to stop. They’re turning into the thing we’re fighting against.


*I actually considered a more inflammatory title, but I learned a long time ago that purposefully goading people wasn’t a good way to open dialogue. The problem (and the reason I considered a clickbait title), is that it (inadvertently) worked last time. Human beings don’t pay attention unless you MAKE them, by pissing them off or creating some other emotional reaction, accidentally or intentionally. (Milo has learned this, and you’re falling for it.) I’m not gonna play that game (or maybe I am. Idfk. I don’t know how to behave in society anymore, or never did). So, now I’m back to talking to my regular audience, who knows me and will talk to me respectfully if they misunderstand or disagree (please. I hope).


Elizabeth Roderick is an Own Voices writer of neurodiverse fiction. You can find her on Amazon.

Neurodiverse People Can Center Ourselves

I’d say I’m digging my grave worse, but now I know I’m back to my regular audience of neurodiverse folks and their allies…like I’d thought I was yesterday. That was a bad miscalculation, and I apologize, as I did from pretty much the outset, if you’ll read the thread. I listened to the people who actually spoke rationally to me, and I changed the article, then got mobbed by a bunch of mostly white people, many of whom did nothing but troll and bully.

I made a mistake and apologized, and fixed it as best I could. After that, I’m not in the wrong here. The people mobbing me were. And this needs said, even if it gets me more shit. I need to stand up for the rights of neurodiverse people to be part of the conversation, because we all are really tired of being told to sit down.

I’m going to go through the things I saw yesterday that were extremely worrying. Any of you who do/say these things, I really hope you do some introspection.

People who say I’m using my neurodiversity as a “shield” to “try to take part in the conversation” have no idea what it’s like to be marginalized. Marginalization is the opposite of a shield. It leaves you open to attack in a way that most people don’t understand. For instance, not to give hateful people ideas, but if someone were to call the police and say I’m a threat, they’d likely lock me up, no questions asked. This is what they do to people with psychosis, on a daily basis. This is institutional bigotry, and it’s wrong. So, yeah. Being psychotic: not a shield.

People who say neurodiverse people don’t know what it’s like to be marginalized, or that what we see as marginalization is society working to separate us “for our own good” need to step back and pay attention. Neurodiverse people like me are considered a “threat” even though we’re not. At all. We’re more likely to be hurt BY others than to hurt others. Nevertheless, any time someone does something shitty and violent, people say they’re “mentally ill”. For most people violent behavior equals mental illness, and vice versa. This is the sort of bigotry that gets us killed. Most people who do violent and horrible things are just assholes, racists, etc. Every time someone says we’re violent, we’re marginalized more and more.

The worst part of all of this marginalization is that most neurodiverse people buy into it. We think there really is something wrong with us. We have a hard time standing up for ourselves for this reason, and also because of how exhausting it is to be shouted down and told we have no right to speak up for ourselves. This is why I’m not backing down. I’m not going to be told, like I was so many times yesterday, that I need to sit down and shut up. That this isn’t about me. That I was “whining” and “being bitter” and “being delusional”, and that my “viewpoint is shitty”. Those words are marginalizing. In standing up for “diversity” and “inclusiveness”, you’re trying to silence and discount a marginalized voice. Period.

Because  me talking, on my own blog, about my own experience, is not me “talking over” anyone. There’s room for me in the conversation. Besides: when you’re marginalized, people don’t sit waiting to hear your voice. They don’t just let you talk. Sometimes you have to talk over people in order to be heard.

So, yeah, shame on me for using that book as an example, because it hurt people’s feelings. Again, I apologized, and took out the reference. I feel extremely bad, because this shit got so big it did end up taking away from the joy of the day. It’s something I didn’t think about when talking to my core audience of neurodiverse people. It wasn’t our day. That doesn’t mean I had no right to speak at all on that day, though, let me make that clear. And it doesn’t mean I was diminishing a person of color’s achievement, either. Neurodiverse people have a right to center ourselves and our feelings. There’s room for us at the table without anyone else having to feel they’re being shunted aside. If you think differently, then you’re actually trying to take the conversation away from us. You’re making it about you.

My main point in the article yesterday, I want to reiterate, because it was valid. To start with, all of the hurtful stuff people said that I said, I didn’t actually say. I said the book had to be a million times better than a non-Own Voices book to get published. I said that Own Voices books are necessary and special. My real point was the publishing industry shouldn’t pat themselves on the back for publishing an Own Voices book, because publishing great books is what they’re there to do. (To be clear, PEOPLE should celebrate that this book got published, because it’s important. Since my partner was nearly shot by police when unarmed, and then he was blamed for it, I have a very strong personal emotional reaction to this point of view being humanized, and am so glad it was given voice.)

One of the most worrisome things I saw was defensiveness from the gatekeeprs themselves. They said not only that I was “whining” and “bitter” (don’t say these things to a marginalized person who is talking about how they’re being marginalized. Ever. It’s not okay). They also said, “Publishers aren’t ‘patting themselves on the back’. They should make a big deal out publishing an Own Voices book. When publishers see there’s money in Own Voices, they’ll publish more.” That’s missing the point, and it’s dangerous for publishers to think of it this way, without addressing the real problem. There’s always been money in Own Voices. We, the readers, know it. We have been hungering for these books for ages, and JUST NOW they’re seeing dollar signs. But, considering rejections I got for my book with the schizophrenic MC before I found it a good home, and ones that other people are still getting, agents and editors continue to “not identify” with Own Voices to a much larger extent than non-Own Voices, and they use us to fill “quotas”. Until the latent bias in the gatekeepers goes away, a lot of great books are still going to fall through the cracks. Don’t get defensive and think we’re whining or bitter. Just listen.

I hope people will stop attacking me in non-productive ways, and see the real problem here. I’m not the real problem. I’m an Own Voices writer stating my opinion, and anyone who thinks that’s a problem, needs to take a good, hard look at themselves.

Anyone who still wants to talk to me and also LISTEN, I will be very happy to do so. If you’re not going to admit my voice is valid, though, you need to step back.

Don’t use own voices writers as trophies

I’m going to take this opportunity to hope a nerurodiverse person’s voice actually gets heard for once.

I am a person with psychosis. That means, legally (in fact, as a matter of course), I can be locked up for committing no crime at all, but only because I might-at some point-commit a crime. I’ve been harassed by police, kicked out of businesses and public buildings for acting “weird”. My partner-also neurodiverse- was almost shot for having a completely nonviolent psychotic episode. My voice is not often heard. And I don’t appreciate that it’s being suppressed now.

So yeah. It was bad timing to bring this up now, because I don’t want to at all take away from the celebration (by AUTHORS and READERS) that an awesome Own Voices book got published. But my point is valid. Publishers shouldn’t be patting themselves on the back. And I have a right to say it.

Don’t tell me that I don’t have a right to my opinion, and that if I’m expressing that opinion I’m “talking over” someone else.

Don’t tell me that I don’t have a right to my frustration about continued bias in the gatekeepers of publishing. Nor am I “bitter” or “whining”. That’s a really privileged point of view. I’m standing up for myself, and for other marginalized voices. This argument sounds like a lot of the bullshit Trumpists spout about protesters and marginalized voices.

So yeah. Misinterpret me all that you want, and then don’t listen when I explain, apologize, etc. Threaten an Own Voices writer’s career for expressing her opinion. But realize that you’re bullying and suppressing a marginalized voice. That’s not discourse. It’s not promoting diversity or acceptance. You are, in fact, a HUGE part of the problem.

I’m taking out the reference to the book in question because people thought I was trying to say it shouldn’t be celebrated.

I apologize greatly for hurting people’s feelings. I didn’t mean to say people shouldn’t be celebrating today. I should have left this post for another day, because my points are still valid.

If anyone is still actually reading this instead of just responding to online comments, then I’ll be glad for all this wank, if maybe just one or two people  see the validity in my points. My point was never to say Own Voices writing shouldn’t be celebrated—in fact, I’ve said the opposite, a million times. Own Voices books are something special beyond just being”great” books.

But anyone who thinks I’m bitter about the publishing industry, I’m not. I’m speaking truth as I see it, and as a lot of people see it. Just because one great Own Voices book gets published doesn’t mean that there isn’t a problem in the industry. A lot of people have approached me and told me stories very similar to mine about their experience with publishing “gatekeepers”.

A lot of us think the publishing industry has a long way to go, and that the PUBLISHING INDUSTRY shouldn’t be throwing itself a big ol’ party quite yet.

Don’t pat yourselves on the back for publishing a great book. That’s what you supposedly exist to do.

For every Own Voices book that gets published, there’s hundreds of other Own Voices books that don’t. Sure, some of those books probably need some work. After all, none of us were born knowing how to write, no matter how interesting our points of view are. But a lot of those own voices books are really good, and still fall through the cracks.

I’m glad that a lot of agents and editors are putting out calls for Own Voices books. This is a good start. But don’t pat yourselves on the back yet. I’m an Own Voices writer, too, and I—along with a lot of others—can see just how far the publishing community has to go.

Agents and editors read hundreds of queries a day, and untold numbers of submissions. They are the first ones to say that, if something doesn’t grab their attention right off, if they don’t love it, then they aren’t the right agent for that book. This is s big problem when we’re talking about Own Voices books. Most agents and editors are white, neurotypical, straight, cis, etc., and come from the sort of background that allows them to major in English. (I’m generalizing here, and I apologize. But the numbers back me up.) So is it any big surprise that they find it harder to identify with different points of view?

When you read something that’s so far outside of your cultural center, it’s probably going to make you uncomfortable, or even defensive (I may not have neurotypical privilege, but I have white privilege, so believe me, I know what that defensiveness feels like. We need to fight it and just listen). These points of view might be jarring to us, or even seem unrealistic. Agents, when reading Own Voices submissions, probably won’t even take time to quantify why they’re having the reaction they do. They’ll just toss the manuscript aside as “not for them”. The Own Voices submissions that the agents do like might be relatable for them in some oblique way. The writing might have been toned down on purpose by the author to be more accessible for other audiences (yes, this happens. I’ve done it, and I’m not the only one). Or, they might just be written a million times better than a book the agent would usually sign by someone with a similar viewpoint as them.

Before anyone starts calling me a snowflake and telling me I’m just bitter because I don’t write well enough to get published, and/or that I want “special treatment” for Own Voices writers…check yourselves. For one, I am published (that’s one of the reason I’m writing this: I’m standing up for a lot of other Own Voices writers who aren’t yet published, and either aren’t comfortable standing up to the publishing community for fear of getting blacklisted, or don’t yet have enough confidence in their skill to be sure of the bias in publishing). For another, none of us want “special treatment”. We’re trying to get the same quality of treatment that those more advantaged than us have. We’re trying to get people to listen, because it’s so easy to drown out our voices as “unrelatable” or “unlikable”.

I do, however, want agents and editors to consider giving Own Voices submissions more than the once-over a “regular” submission would get. Ask yourselves why you’re not relating to the writing. Is the character voice too different? Do you feel disoriented by their way of life or outlook? Does the tone seem too dark for you? Does the plot take turns that are atypical, perhaps because the character interacts with their environment in a way that you’re not expecting? Are you uncomfortable with how the main character views people who are more advantaged than them? Worse yet, do you already have a book on your list with an x-type of character, so you think there’s no room for one more? These are all reasons that I, and a lot of other Own Voices writers, have been given for why our books were rejected. Perhaps you might want to give those books another chance, to see if perhaps you’re missing out on a great book because of a bias you weren’t perhaps aware of.

Yes, we know publishing is a difficult business. We, as Own Voices writers, know this as much—perhaps better—than anyone. And we’ll keep trying. We’ll work so hard at our craft that one day we’ll be good enough to be successful, even if that means we have to write a million times better than a non-Own Voices writer. But, meanwhile, stop congratulating yourselves for publishing Own Voices books, and instead just congratulate the author for writing a great book, and yourselves for doing your job—just like you would with any manuscript. Because Own Voices writers aren’t “trophies” for you to display on your list to prove you’re open-minded. We’re not here to fill a quota, and we’re not here to parrot your own worldview back at you and make you feel good. We’re here to tell our stories, and we’ll keep doing that, whether you like it or not.


I’m very excited to announce that the long awaited (and much anticipated!) third book of the Amazon Bestselling RAGNAROK PROPHESIES series has finally arrived! Join Arionna Jacobs and Dace Matthews as they race to stop the apocalypse in this intense and emotional series by A.K. Morgen.

Read on below for all the details, including a giveaway!


Who do you trust when betrayal threatens to destroy everything you hold dear?

When Arionna Jacobs fled town in a desperate bid to save Dace Matthews, she never expected the chaos she would leave in her wake. Now her closest friend is dead, and another is missing, forcing Ari to return to face the devastating consequences of her actions and the broken boy she left behind.

Her problems are only just beginning.

Even as her bond with Dace grows stronger, Arionna finds herself weakening when Freki’s cage shatters. Fighting the wolf for control is tearing her apart piece by piece. And at every turn, she finds that those she’s put her faith in aren’t who they seem, bringing her face to face with Sköll and Hati. As the depth of their betrayal is revealed, Freki spirals out of control, and Arionna must face her greatest fear: losing herself to the fierce wolf within.

The world balances on the edge of a blade, and one wrong move will destroy it all.

With few allies she can trust and little choice left, Arionna must decide between the lives of her friends and her own future with the alpha she loves. Will she be able to stand firm for the sake of the world, or will she falter in the face of defeat? 




“Arionna, dammit, wake up.”

Unseen hands gripped my upper arms, shaking me. A familiar voice called my name over and over. Furious howls ripped through the air.

None of those sounds made sense to me.

I felt different, like I’d been taken apart and put back together in the wrong order. Everything hurt. My body ached, muscles locked tight in protest. My head throbbed. Each painful pulse rattled against my skull, sending ripples down my neck and into my back.

I groaned and rolled onto my side.

The hands shaking me relaxed.

I fought to open my eyes, then blinked, confused. Worn brown carpet scratched against the side of my face. The bottom edge of a pale blue bed-sham fluttered inches from me. Dust bunnies and small pieces of plastic were strewn beneath the sagging bed. A table and two chairs were grouped on the other side. A crack ran up the leg of one chair, splitting the wood.

None of the room looked familiar.

Where am I?

The voice calling my name stopped mid-shout and sighed.

Oh, thank god, he said.

For what? I wondered, marveling that the words came from inside my mind, but didn’t belong to me. How was that possible?

I couldn’t place the soft, silky tones either, but they made my stomach flip and my heart flutter. I knew the speaker. At least I thought I did. Before I could ask him who he was or how he spoke in my head, someone blew out a sharp breath. This time, the sound didn’t come from inside.

“Finally,” that second voice said.

Nope. Definitely not coming from my mind.

I rolled my eyes toward the relieved sound, and then frowned at the guy leaning over me. Long, dark hair hung in his face. His eyes were black, and full of concern. His features were sharp, severe, but handsome.

This time I was certain; I knew this guy.

“Ronan,” I said. His name was Ronan LaCrosse, and mine was… Arionna. Yes, Arionna Jacobs. Memory began to slowly trickle back in. We were at a motel in Illinois, looking for someone. And the howls were coming from Fuki, the little wolf we’d brought with us, though I couldn’t see him.

Where was he?

I tried to figure out why I was on the floor, but came up with a big blank.

“What happened?” I asked, looking up at Ronan.

He held out a hand for me, then pulled me into a sitting position.

The room tilted before straightening again. I clutched my head in my hands, groaning. When the initial wave of nausea passed, I tilted my head up slowly so I could see Ronan. “Did I hit my head?” I asked, trying to blink away the dark spots floating in my peripheral.

“You don’t remember?” He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side like a raven assessing me.

I scooted back against the edge of the bed, frowning.

What was I supposed to remember?



A.K. Morgen is the Amazon Bestselling author of the Ragnarök
Prophesies series. She lives in the heart of Arkansas with her childhood
sweetheart/husband of thirteen years, and their six furry minions. When not
writing, she spends her time hiking, reading, volunteering, causing mischief,
and building a Spork army. Ayden graduated summa
cum laude
with her Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice and
Forensic Psychology in 2009 before going on to complete her graduate degree in
CJ and Law. She currently puts her education to use in the social services and
CJ field. 

Ayden also writes New Adult and contemporary romance under the penname Ayden K.

You can find her on 
Twitter, Facebook, or via her website at

Going Homeless for the Homeless

I’ve been inspired by the women who ran from NYC to DC to raise money for Planned Parenthood. I’ve had an idea, and I mentalwant to put out feelers to see what kind of support this idea would have, because it will be a difficult thing to do and I need to know it would have an effect before I set out to do it.

I would like to walk from here (Yakima, WA) to our state capital (Olympia, WA), a distance of around 180 miles. I would be living homeless, in order to raise awareness and money about the plight of the homeless and neurodiverse. I wouldn’t be accepting money directly for these causes – I would ask for pledges to charities like NAMI.

I’d like to know who would be willing to donate, and who would help me by amplifying my social media presence with regard to this. I would love to hear your thoughts, and would love it even more if you’d retweet, reblog, or share this post to see if any of your friends might be interested in supporting me one way or another on this journey.

If I got enough awareness, my next trip would be to DC.

And yes, I’d be living homeless, as authentically as possible, but I’d make it as safe as I could in ways I will brainstorm with you and discuss later.

Who’s with me?

A Stark Look at Neurodiversity and What it Takes to Be an Ally

It’s been a long time since I ranted at y’all. I can’t say I’ve been saving up things to rant about, because I’ve trained myself to let stuff go so that it doesn’t dissolve my brain in caustic acid. But this rant needs to happen.

This is going to be the most brutal window into what it’s like for me to live with mental illness that I’ve ever given you. I’ve decided that my entire recovery depends on me being emotionally honest with myself and others, and on not playing the victim by putting up with other people’s shit. My feelings are important, and it shouldn’t be okay to hurt me just because I act “crazy” sometimes.

If your life is too pretty, you might want to stop reading, because you probably won’t understand any of this.

Neurodiverse people put up with discrimination, both subtle and otherwise, constantly. So much, in fact, that a lot of us don’t even realize that it’s happening, and we end up being the ones to apologize when we’re the ones suffering from prejudice.

Neurodiversity comes in a lot of forms and levels, from nearly constant, full-blown psychosis to mild, periodic depression. There’s also autism, which I won’t speak to here because I’m no expert, though I have observed that autistic people suffer a lot of the same types of discrimination that “mentally ill” people do.

There is really only one all-encompassing way to describe all forms of neurodiversity. It’s an inability, at some level, to correctly play society’s game. I know most neurotypical people feel this applies to them, but they’re fundamentally misunderstanding what I mean. “Not being able to play society’s game” doesn’t mean you’re sometimes weird or awkward or say the wrong thing…as far as I can tell, that stuff is a big part of society’s game. Neurodiversity means that you act in ways that make you fundamentally incompatible with social norms, in ways that affect your ability to get along with others and be “functional”. This isn’t voluntary; it’s just the way we are.

I’ll clarify here that, while it can affect your ability to get along with people, neurodiversity is not a synonym for “asshole”. Yes, some neurodiverse people are assholes, or they act like assholes sometimes (like everyone else), but not all assholes are mentally ill. I’m really damn tired of people saying Trump is mentally ill, for instance. That’s an insult to mentally- ill people. Trump is just a self-involved, inconsiderate, manipulative, unintelligent fuckhead. NOT. THE SAME. THING. It seems like assholes do pretty damn well in society a lot of the time. By getting elected president of the U.S., for example.

Hardly anyone would say that they hate neurodiverse people. It’s just like hardly anyone would say they’re racist, but it doesn’t stop them from doing/saying racist things. With neurodiversity, others don’t really understand what it is or what it looks like, so they end up punishing and demeaning us, even on an institutional level, for behavior we can’t easily control, or can’t control at all. They’re discriminating against us for being who we are.

I can understand why that is, though. Sometimes, neurodiverse behavior isn’t pretty. Neurotypical behavior isn’t pretty sometimes, either, but the neurodiverse have the disadvantage of having more overblown reactions to “triggers” (and I shouldn’t put quotes around this word, because it’s the correct use of a word that is used incorrectly so often) than neurotypical people do, and also of not usually being able to wait until they’re behind closed doors to have those reactions. So, we’re often the ones that get called the asshole for having an episode, when others either don’t know the context (didn’t see what led up to us acting that way), or don’t even understand what set us off.

Unfortunately, in the case of those who know us well, these triggers become a really good way to intentionally or subliminally manipulate and abuse us. They say or do something they know will set us off, and then point to us and say, “See? She’s the bad one.”

Neurodiverse people can be hard for others to love. We get rejected and isolated, some of us on a daily basis, sometimes in just about every interaction. This contributes to the progression of our illness, and becomes sort of a feedback loop. What neurotypical people don’t realize is that y’all are just the same as us. We’re no more threatening, toxic, or hard to deal with than you are, on average, though there are jerkwipes on both sides of the line. We’re just different. We express our emotions differently, because our emotions can take us over more powerfully than they do neurotypical people, but that doesn’t mean we’re dangerous. It just means y’all have to give us a minute, and we’ll be back with you shortly.

And, when we come back, it will probably with an apology—though we rarely get one in return from you guys, because you rarely see what it was you did that was insulting/abusive/discriminatory, while we’re trained from birth to think that we’re in the wrong, because we don’t fit social norms.

In order to be a true ally of the neurodiverse community, you have to understand the above, and accept it, instead of chiding us or being derisive about our behavior. Accepting us goes far beyond language policing or treating us like children who need coddled and taken care of, and then ignored when we’re having a fit. We’re adults— valid, wonderful human beings just like you guys—and should be treated as such. Doesn’t mean you have to like what we do, but it’d be nice if you’d understand and forgive us, and take a look at yourself, as well.

I’m going to give an example of what subtle discrimination looks like, and then an example of what pure acceptance looks like.

I’m not doing this to call anyone out. This is a true attempt to educate, because educating people about this sort of stuff is part and parcel of my survival in this society—I don’t have a chance in hell of ever being “normal”, so my only hope is to try to get people to accept me (and hopefully others) on our own terms. Besides, in the following examples, I’m calling myself out more than anyone, because I was also in the wrong.

Even though my shrink tells me my PTSD is more symptomatic lately (I was recently assaulted), I don’t always realize that I’m freaking out. Believe me, I’m working on it. I’m the only one who can control my behavior. I have a harder time with it than neurotypical people do, but I will get stable again, because I’m a pretty tough lady.

The only way I’m going to get better is by being emotionally honest with myself. Similarly, the only way neurotypical people are going to be good allies of the neurodiverse community is to be honest with themselves, and aware of their own behavior toward us.

So, my PTSD is from abuse. As a young teenager, I was physically/emotionally/sexually abused for a long period of time. This abuse has colored the progression of my entire life. It was a huge cause of the end of my last marriage, because when my husband said something insulting, I would have an overblown reaction, which would cause him to become more insulting, and so on.

I’m in a fairly unstable state now, so whenever someone says something that I perceive to be abusive or insulting, I freak out. Maybe not as much as when I’m unmedicated, but still.

There was a large amount of wank on my personal Facebook page, and a local group page, a couple of days ago because of a couple dogs that killed some of my chickens. I won’t go into the whole story; if you want it, I didn’t delete or alter the thread. It’s on my FB feed.

Long story short, this one dude ended up telling me I’m naïve, and that the dogs should have killed my chickens because they had as much right to eat as I did. Garden variety asshole, right? Except I actually need those eggs to eat since I’m living on a tight budget since my divorce, not to mention the chickens were my pets. The guy knew that. So this statement felt a lot like things my ex used to say to me about me being immature and worthless. I got really agitated, and I reacted without really thinking. I told him, “If you think you have every bit a right to eat as a dog does, kill yourself and make yourself into dog food for rescue dogs.”

This was a horrible word choice, but in my mind at the time, I was turning the tables and re-stating what he’d just said to me. I realized later that it was a poor word choice, but at least it got the guy to shut the fuck up, so I thought it was no big deal. Except it’s the internet, where everything is a big deal.

Another lady came back days later, and read only my statement. She admitted she didn’t read the context, or anything he’d said. All she saw was me freaking out. So, I was the one that got all the blame. “I know you care about people with mental illness, so I just wanted you to be aware that what you said is wrong.”

I apologized for what I’d said, but I also pointed out the irony to her. She didn’t call the other guy out for being abusive and demeaning. Be aware, I said, that my reaction is what mental illness—a PTSD trigger—looks like. That’s what true “awareness” of mental illness is.

She never responded. This is typical. We get rejected as not worth listening to, as hysterical, as an asshole. Rejection is another trigger for me, like it is for a lot of us. Instead of going off on that lady, I figured it would be healthier to go off on a blog piece, in the faint hope of educating someone.

Now, let me call myself out even more by showing you what true acceptance of mental illness looks like. I’ll give a trigger warning, though I don’t think trigger warnings are healthy when we’re dealing with real-life events. We can only heal by facing our triggers. But, anyhow, this is a pretty graphic description of physical violence and verbal…I won’t call it abuse in this case. But in another context it would be.

If you are my mom/dad, I suggest you stop reading now.

A certain friend of mine and I were having ourselves a fun white trash evening recently. Long story short, he was goofing around and called me a “dirty whore”.

I knew he was goofing around, but this brought me to a standstill. “Don’t call me that.”

He, though, didn’t see what the big deal was: he was just joking, and I knew it. So, he called me a dirty whore again.

I reacted before I knew what was happening. It was like watching myself from the outside. I punched him. Not hard, but in the exact same place he’d been punched another time, which had broken his tooth and ultimately put him in a coma for three days.

So, he (who is neurodiverse, also) had the same reaction. He punched me in the eye. Again, not hard, but it was enough to bring me to my senses.

We were both blasted off into PTSD land. He was alternating between threatening to call the cops if I didn’t give him money, and gently examining my eye and saying, “Oh, my God Liz, are you okay?” Then yelling at me for making him hit a girl. I for my part, was sobbing and apologizing my ass off and begging him to not leave or call the cops. See? Good ol’ white trash fun all around.

We calmed down eventually and talked. “Someone called you a dirty whore before, right?” he said, and I nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he said.

“I’m sorry I punched you, especially right where that other guy did.”

And we spoke no more of it. Neither of us needed an explanation. Neither of us judged or even pitied the other. We understood one another. To us, it wasn’t that big a deal. Just a couple people overreacting like the freaks we are. Neither of us had so much as a bruise, to be clear.

That’s what it takes to accept people like us. Most of you won’t be able to do that, because our behavior is so easy to point at and say, “wrong”. Most of you, having read this, will be horrified, and will unfriend me/never talk to me again, because you don’t want to be associated with toxic people like me. But your behavior is just as wrong sometimes, it just takes longer to explain why because the abuse is emotional, and/or you do it behind closed doors so it’s harder to call you out on it.

So, if you want to be our allies, be patient with us, listen, and try to understand. It will require putting up with some bullshit, yes. But it will be worth it. We’re wonderful people, and you’ll also find a lot of us more willing to put up with YOUR bullshit than most, because we know what it’s like to do things we’re not proud of, and be rejected.