Phew, May was a big month. Here’s hoping June is a bit more chill. I feel as though I am going to say that every month until Christmas, though. (Chill, haha, yes it really is 🥶)
The Overshare is broken up into seven sections: Listen Up–for all things auditory and musical, All The Feels–for sensory gadgets and neurodivergent products we are loving, Off The Shelf–bookish things including what we are reading and upcoming events, Uh Oh–life disasters, bloopers and social mistakes, Leaving The House–pretty self explanatory, Who Put Me In Charge–challenges in parenting, executive functioning, and life admin, and Scratch Pad–to share new writing bits and pieces. Let’s do it.
Listen Up
Kay: I have been listening to the Heartstopper soundtrack a lot in the past month, including looping Why Am I Like This? by Orla Gartland an autistic amount of times. There is big neurodivergent energy from that song, including a repetitive chorus that now comes to mind instead of thoughts in awkward moments, as internal (and sometimes external) echolalia. I love it. You can’t convince me echolalia is ‘disordered’ and ‘meaningless’ when it soothes and brings SO. MUCH. JOY. I notice it with my kid too–her echolalia can pop up as self-regulation, self-direction, or stimming, and it always seems like a natural, lovely thing.
Anna: I’ve been listening to sea shanties! We are away at the beach and my love of all things maritime escapes the wee box I keep it kept in. Along with the shanties we have the rhythm and hum of waves. I could listen to that forever.
All the feels
Kay: I am so glad to see the back of that awful warm-rainy-humid weather, because it was a sensory nightmare :( Not even factoring in the flood damage and mouldy house situation, it just felt BAD. That kind of extreme heat and humidity made it hard to dress comfortably, hard to sleep, and hard to function.
Oh–I wrote about our love of bath bombs in The Overshare mid-2021, and how we struggle with the strongly-scented ones. I wanted to update that we have found an unscented variety that creates beautiful bath rainbows, for anyone looking for a sensory treat. It probably doesn’t sound like much, but it’s huge in this house.
Anna: More holiday life as we cope without our favourite things. The blanket is itchy, the couch is cold leather, and the bowls makes a strange scraping sound when used with metal spoons. At home I prefer a corn-material spork(!). All worth it for sand underfoot and the breeze off the ocean.
Off the shelf
Kay: It feels good to be reading again. This month I can wholeheartedly recommend #LoveOzYA rom-com Libby Lawrence Is Good At Pretending by Jodi McAlister. It sits in that post-high school YA/NA space I love and it is fierce and funny and sweet as heck. It is set in the university theatre world, which is not one I know much about, and I fell in love with the whole cast of characters (well, not ALL of them. I’m looking at you, Nightingale).
Anna: I had many unnamed emotions while driving through the places mine and Kay’s books are set. My kids were entirely uninterested to hear me call out ‘that’s where Peta lives!’ And ‘down there is Jeb’s’. I brought The Trauma Cleaner with me, just in case I finish The Body Keeps The Score. Light reads hey? I’m currently processing the idea of leaving public life and social media entirely. Everything apart from this newsletter and Pinterest perhaps. I’ve had to lock everything down due to targeted and personal harassment. My own reaction to it all is confusing. I also don’t want anyone to feel abandoned by me. There’s a lot to unpack and I hope these books will help. If the world could pause for a while that would also be greatly appreciated. [no sympathy or help required, I’ll feel awkward and not know what to say]
Leaving The House
Kay: I left the house in the past month for not one but two writers festivals! I enjoyed myself AND avoided getting Covid!
Brisbane Writers’ Festival was a drive down and back in one day for a panel at Love YA Day. It was a treat to share the stage with Jodi McAlister, Tobias Madden, and Rhiannon Wilde–three #LoveOzYA authors I admire so much. Our panel was all about love stories, and I could not recommend their books highly enough. They have buoyed me through some tough months as of late. The whole day was well programmed and attended, and it felt special to be in the city doing something writerly. Thank you to everyone who came along.
Sydney Writers’ Festival was a whole other thing. It was five nights away from home, in a big hotel in a busy city, and three big talks plus a filmed interview. The first night I did not sleep a wink, so I went into my first event full of nerves and with a foggy, weird head. And the event went SO WELL. Like, I actually can’t believe how well. It was thrilling to meet so many YA superstars, and to see how an event of this magnitude works. I had a whole narrative in my mind about how I just needed to get through it, accepting that I would be in a state of discomfort and high stress the whole time. But I ended up enjoying SWF so so much.
What I will attribute this to is how well my autistic needs were accommodated. There was a concrete schedule, with absolutely every single step of each day spelled out. Travel was organised. I had a down day between each speaking event. At the venues, I had a quiet room I could go to for sensory break, as well as the green rooms, which were always stocked with snack foods and sugary drinks. People checked in on me, but not in an over-the-top kind of way. I can’t imagine how differently this trip might have gone if Amelia Lush, head of youth programming, and everyone at the festival had not given this so much thought and care. It showed me what true inclusion can look and feel like.
Uh Oh
Kay: It isn’t all career-highlight festival experiences. I attended a dinner with literary folk recently in a restaurant where the music was so loud, and the tables were so close together, that I ended up not being able to hear anyone (hello, auditory processing challenges) and I left feeling really bad about myself. It was like one long panic attack as I strained to hear, eat, talk, and keep up for a few hours. There were people I would have loved to engage with more, but I was basically non-verbal for most of the time, and my self talk afterwards was way harsh. I need to avoid putting myself in situations that are going to make me feel like that. Oof, it was yuck. I am still recovering.
Anna: I’m just living in awe of how much Kay achieved, and sobbing at the pain it can cause for her too. I went to Love YA day at the Brisbane Writer’s Festival and am still recovering. I wasn’t even on stage! I had the best time seeing Kay speak eloquently, laying on the floor with Jess Walton, meeting the wonderful Dinuka Mackenzie, laughing with Sarah Ross and chillin at the poetry read with Kellie McGraw.
Who Put Me In Charge
Kay: Something we have been managing since A started kindy two years ago is school avoidance. It ebbs and flows depending on lots of elements–sleep, anxiety levels, sickness, social dynamics, changes in routine (in and out of the classroom), developmental leaps, wobbly teeth, home life, and other miscellaneous variables. My approach has always been to be very flexible with days off, to have open communication with teachers, and to try to maintain a relaxed routine to give A the best chance of attending school as regularly as she can. It makes total sense to me when and why she resists, and I know that a forced bad day at school is going to be much worse for mental and emotional wellbeing than a day of missed class. I am also in a fortunate position where I work from home, so I can facilitate this, which I know so many parents can not.
It has always been in the back of my mind that traditional schooling might not always be the pathway for us, but for now it is. I am feeling the squeeze a little bit this year as the days off accumulate and we are falling behind in the homework arena. My approach to navigating the system is starting to require more assertiveness. I would love to hear from anyone who is dealing with/has dealt with school avoidance and what has been their best approach for navigating this with their school. I am not thrilled when I look at the research about autistic kids in school, including this report from Amaze that says autistic kids almost all (97%) face difficulties with their education. I definitely struggled with elements of schooling, particularly as I got older, and being in constant survival mode took a big toll on my mental health. I want to break that cycle.
This is a UK-based resource, but I found it very helpful in terms of strategies and information, particularly for autistic kids who fit the PDA profile. (PDA stands for Pathological Demand Avoidance, which, eek, does not sound great. It is another one of those things named after how it inconveniences other people. I have seen it referred to as Persistent Drive for Autonomy, which seems a better fit).
Anna: I have one child home with covid, one asleep (hello 14) and one out at the beach with dad. I’m not entirely sure this counts as parenting? I mostly pat them on the back and say ‘there there’.
(Addition: 14yo promptly tested positive and it’s been a lockdown week at home for us. Both have endured. Somehow, the rest of us have escaped thus far. We feel it’s 2020 all over again and my mental health is just loving the extra challenge mhm).
Scratch Pad
Kay: It is my turn for Scratch Pad but as my deadline looms ever closer, I am not working on a single thing that isn’t my non-fiction manuscript. I have dug deep into the vault for this one. It is the start of a YA called Liar that I was working on around the same time as Social Queue. They were like a fork in the road, and I chose romance at the time. It is a weird and dark kind of story, and I am not sure if I will come back to this, but maybe one day! I hope you enjoy.
Blurb: Verity Walker’s lies have a way of coming true. And not in a ‘the odds sometimes fall in her favour’ way. It is more of a ‘her words have the power to change the fabric of the universe’ kind of thing. Now this liar is on a mission to find the truth. About her family, about her history, about whether recycling is really recycled and why people are so quick to believe conspiracies they read about online. This weird and wild story explores the lies people tell to hold on to their worldview, and what it takes to really, truly, tell the truth.
‘Full stories are as rare as honesty’
-Zadie Smith, White Teeth
‘The truth isn’t always beauty, but the hunger for it is’
-Nadine Gordimer
Prologue
Perhaps the best place to start is with what I know to be true. My name is Verity Walker. I am 15 years old. Underneath all of this, my hair is naturally curly and reddy brown. I go to River Creek High School, where I’m failing and acing an equal number of subjects. I am autistic with ADHD, which my mum says is the doctor’s way of charging her money she doesn’t have for appointments I don’t need. She thinks most of what professionals say is a lie, and the real truth can only be found on Facebook. She is getting worse. My dad left before I could walk, and from what I have surmised from our few brief interactions, is a very angry person. I don’t like many people. I don’t trust anyone, least of all myself. I have always had a complicated relationship with the truth, but it’s my latest lie that has really blown things to pieces. Before I get to that, I’ll need to go back a bit and explain how I got here. I will do my best to be honest, but it’s hard to know what that even means when my lies have a way of coming true. And not in a ‘the odds sometimes fall in my favour’ way. It’s more of a ‘my words have the power to change the fabric of the universe’ kind of thing. You’ll see.
Chapter One (work)
It is not a big deal. I think of it like when you’re online shopping and you can choose to donate two extra dollars to charity at the checkout. Only, I’m the charity, and the customers don’t know. Mr Gordon balances the till the old-school way, and doesn’t notice if the money is there in cash or Eftpos, so I can slip the extra notes into my pocket or my bra at the end of my shift and everything is fine. No one is hurt; no one feels ripped off. A couple of bucks means nothing to the people who breeze in here every week, the ones who ‘run errands’ and ‘catch up for coffee’ and have investment properties instead of actual jobs. They spend hundreds every month on the lottery, because there is no amount of money that will ever be enough for people who have loads to begin with. But I have worked here nearly a year (at minimum wage) and I have never seen anyone win more than $100. It is such a scam. What I’m doing isn’t any more deceitful. Anyway, people who live in beautiful places never seem to question anything, and the Sunshine Coast is really beautiful.
“Don’t you think Margot Robbie is, like, the prettiest person in the world? I think she is so pretty.”
Amber is meant to be reorganising the magazines as per her dad’s request. She is sitting cross-legged, browsing the fashion section instead. Her ashy blonde hair is piled on the top of her head and held in place by a velvet scrunchie. Her face is makeup free. This all adds up to signify that she deems the newsagency a place not worthy of putting in the same effort she would for school or parties. The latest Vogue has caught her attention. Another scam.
“Yeah, she’s really pretty. Didn’t Sophie say you looked like her in English the other day?”
She did, which is why Amber is bringing up Margot Robbie in the first place.
“Did she? Oh my god, I wish. I would need a nose job to look anything like her at all.”
She holds her nose between her thumb and pointer finger and gives it a squeeze, as though hoping the tip will narrow and turn upwards through sheer will alone. And that’s Amber’s problem. Her not-quite-narrow enough nose is her biggest problem. Mr Gordon will probably buy her a new nose for her sweet 16th. And she will look a lot more like Margot Robbie. Amber talks to me here because there isn’t much choice, but she makes sure it is obvious that she would rather not. When we do talk, it is an exercise in reminding me of our relative hierarchal places. For example:
“Who is your celebrity doppelganger?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I can’t think of a single famous person you look like, isn’t that weird?”
“So weird.”
I do the dance and remind myself I am separate from it. It has been a long time since Amber Gordon could hurt my feelings. She keeps talking about celebrities, who is too thin and who could stand to lose a couple of kilograms. Everyone is ‘too’ something. The window for what is acceptable must be microscopically small. Amber is really into celebrities, especially the ones who look like her. What’s that about? I could say she has a nose JUST like Margot’s, and then maybe she would, but I won’t. I won’t even try to gift myself a new appearance, because what is the point? If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my ability, it is that there is no point in changing most things. And increasing physical attractiveness is likely to make an ugly-on-the-inside person act even uglier.
“What have you got on this weekend? Are you going to Henno’s?”
She knows I am not. I never am.
“Nah. I’m in here on Saturday, and then probably heading to a hinterland party that night. You know what they’re like.”
I roll my eyes like she knows exactly what I’m talking about. She doesn’t. There isn’t even a hinterland party, yet.
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard they’re pretty wild. Henno’s is a small thing anyway, more of a gathering.”
Henno is the kind of guy who trades girls’ nudes for weed. Sometimes with the girls themselves, but more often with their boyfriends and exes. There isn’t a timeline that exists where I would choose to be in the same vicinity as him.
“Can I please get a $20 crossword Scratchie and a Quick Pick for Saturday’s Mega Draw?”
Mr Quick Pick has his card waiting and taps it on the counter as I pull together his request. Tap tap tap. He needs to do this to remind me his time is more valuable than mine. Tap tap tap.
“That’s $63.50. Would you like to pay with cash or on card?”
He looks at his card and then at me.
“Scan at the top there when you’re ready.”
“Thanks, have a good one.”
“You too.”
And thanks for the $2.50. It is going straight into my ‘moving out’ fund. The sun hits the windows at this time every afternoon and I spend the last hour of my shift squinting. When I am finished for the day it feels strange to relax the muscles on my face back into their resting positions, like squinting is now the default. Mr Gordon arrives to collect the till and take Amber home, and I’m left to pull down the shutters and lock up on my own. The ride home only takes 20 minutes, and the view going down the hill is worth the extra time and burning in my calves. I can see the beach and Old Woman Island, with little white yachts making the coastline look like a postcard. We live in paradise, truly. And that’s the problem.
Oh I love your newsletter so much. Like slipping on the comfiest tracky daks. My Miss 18 miss half of Semester two last year. Was year 12 for her. We spoke with the school daily on speaker phone with her being involved in the conversation and final decisions. We told the school her mental health was the priority. I feel very happy with how the school supported her which was the opposite of our experience with the school when our son was bullied. Miss 18 stayed up with her work. Did not do an ATAR but still received an early offer to Uni. Proof that attendance ain’t everything.
She’s had a rocky year and deferred from Uni and just got her job back at Mini Bounce as a full timer. She’s happy. She’s in control.
I have so many "me too" thoughts and feelings from reading this newsletter! I'll keep this comment short though haha. I'm excited for "Liar"; it's so cool to see a story based where I've lived most of my life! I had no idea that island was called "Old Woman Island", I always just call it "the whale" because it looks like a humpback whale just sticking its head up out of the water :)