Since I was a tween, I had a penchant for writing horror and suspense narratives. Looking back, I wonder how I got the ideas for this stuff, and I suppose the answer that comes to mind is that I was struggling with an intense and unwavering anxiety mixed with periods of depression. I was struggling to make sense out of my bullies. I was trying to cope with being abused. I was trying to find and develop a voice.
This is how I managed to stay sane in a reality that did not include having access to counseling, therapy, or even friendships that I felt safe confiding in. Writing stories and comic-booking, painting and putting together collages, were the only voice I had: I couldn't communicate, not the way other children could. Verbalizing my thoughts was nearly impossible, and everytime I tried, I was horribly misunderstood and misinterpreted. Maybe that's something all people with Autism face to greater or lesser degrees throughout their lives. Maybe having to depend on one way of doing something when all other avenues have failed, hones the craft-- a sight and ear to detail as sharp as the edge of a Samurai's sword.