Autism. My connection. And the inspiration behind How We Deal With Gravity.
I’m a hopeless romantic. Always
have been. I was the girl with butterflies in her tummy at just about every
high school dance and the one crying at every John Hughes movie (no matter how
many times I saw them). I’m also a sucker for a good news story. You know—the
kind that move you? I save them, clip
them from magazines, stalk them on YouTube, tuck them away on jump drives. I
like the ones that show the strength of the human spirit; how we can be pushed
to almost breaking points, yet still persevere.
Years ago, I was a young
journalist, and I wanted to write one of those.
I had just left the newspaper
world where I was working as a breaking news reporter covering crime, courts
and politics—the exciting stuff that happened in the wee hours and ends up on front
pages. Suddenly I found myself in the land of magazine writing, with month-long
deadlines and thousands of words at my disposal. And I was hungry to write a
story that really mattered. I mean really
mattered. I profiled interesting people, investigated some serious
political puzzles and covered some pretty exciting business deals. But I still
hadn’t found that gem—that story that I would
want to rip from my magazine and save.
I’m not sure where I was when the
idea of autism hit me. But once that thought passed through my mind, it kept
coming until I couldn’t ignore it. I wanted to show what it was really like to
be a family living with autism. I didn’t know much, a vague impression of what
autism was that I’d picked up from movies and a few articles. But I made my
pitch, found a few key local connections and was off and running on my
assignment. I read article after article, medical journal after medical
journal, and book after book—and everything felt like it was upside down and
impossible to understand. A typical journey for a person’s first experience
researching autism, I would later come to understand.
Once I had soaked in what I could
on my own, I took a deep breath and called an organization here in Arizona that
would be my anchor, and hopefully put me in touch with families, doctors,
therapists, teachers—people who could help me make sense of what I’d learned so
I could tell the story to others. This place is called the Southwest Autism
Research and Resource Center (SARRC), and when I first entered its doors, it
was nothing more than a library room and a few resource offices for therapy,
meetings and assistance.
It was a small operation, but it
was mighty.
I walked into SARRC as a
journalist on her mission for a good story, and I walked away changed forever.
I met the founder, Denise Resnik, and spent time with her family learning first
hand what went into raising a child with autism. But I also learned what went
into igniting a wave of change—a movement. When the Resnik received a diagnosis
of autism, she processed it with grief, anger, frustration, despair, hope and
will, as many families do. And then she partnered with a few others, dug in and
started something—something…big.
Since those early days, SARRC has
grown into one of the national leaders in autism research, spawning programs
like job training for young adults, genome studies, integrated pre-school
programs and more. That tiny building has grown into an enormous one, and
SARRC’s reach is mighty.
I have never been inspired by
anything more my life, and that first story, which turned into my favorite
thing I’ve ever written, ignited a passion in me to help however I can to
spread autism’s story. Over the years, I have volunteered my writing services
to SARRC, telling dozens of stories of families, doctors, programs,
achievements, triumphs and inspirations. And over that time, I have had family
members face autism diagnoses as well as many friends.
So now fast forward to a few
months ago, when another idea found its way into my head. I had a new story I
wanted to tell—this time, as an author. And I want that story to make a
difference, which is why the first week of royalties are going to SARRC .
Autism is a powerful subject in
its own right, and the numbers, unfortunately, show that it’s something more
and more of us are intimately aware of (the latest studies show one in 68
children in the US are affected). I’m not the same person I was when I first
walked through SARRC’s doors. I’ve absorbed and helped share some pretty
powerful true stories—stories of challenged marriages, crushed spirits and
loss. But somehow, people find a way to persevere. And that…that…is what HOW WE DEAL WITH GRAVITY IS
ABOUT.
Autism is consuming. It becomes a
parent’s priority, and things like love, happiness…and life…take a bake seat.
Ah but hope—hope. This one word is
something I hear in every interview of every family affected by autism. So when
I created Avery Abbot, I wanted to push her to the edge of almost losing
hope—and then I wanted to give her chance. And that’s how Mason Street was
born.
You see, love and hope are deeply
intertwined, and I believe you need to use one to fight for the other. And when
you are raising a child with autism, love and hope almost take on super human
strength, because you need them to survive. And I wanted to tell a story that
honored that fight. So while HOW WE DEAL WITH GRAVITY is a love story between
two people who are losing hope, it’s also my love song to the many mothers,
fathers, brothers, sisters and grandparents who have opened up their hearts to
me and shared their stories with me over the years. They’ve changed me, and I
hope I do them justice.
The Southwest Autism Research and
Resource Center is located in Phoenix, Arizona, but it serves the Southwest and
beyond. For more information, visit them online at www.autismcenter.org. The first week of
royalties for How We Deal With Gravity will
go to SARRC.
Behind-The-Scenes of How We Deal With Gravity
I was in the middle of writing
Gravity when I went to a concert with a few girlfriends. It was a Dustin Lynch
show. Now, I’m not a huge country
girl, but I’ve come to appreciate the music. I was always more into the
classics, like Willie Nelson. But let me say—Dustin can make a country fan out
of just about anyone. Anyhow, I started listening to a few lesser-known country
musicians after that show, just to get my fix, and I discovered Sam Hunt. So
Mason Street? He’s definitely rock and blues – but there’s a little bit of country
(aka Dustin and Sam) in there, too.
How We Deal With Gravity is set in Cave Creek, Arizona. It’s a real
place. The bar, Dusty’s, isn’t real. But the main drag through town is cool as
hell and dotted with nothing but the best cowboy and biker bars to be found.
I’ve two-stepped in several of them. As for the great bands passing through
town, that was more inspired by a dive in Phoenix that has long-since closed.
It was called Mr. Lucky’s, and people like Waylon Jennings used to play there.
I like beat-up old cars, and I’ve
given a few to some of my characters. I think they’re real, and I like that
they don’t start sometimes and that their air conditioning is shoddy and that
sometimes you have to tape a hole in the seat. I don’t really want to drive
one, but I think it’s good to own one (or two or three) in your life. It gives
you a sense of yourself. And I want my characters to have that, too. Plus, my
brother knows his way around an engine, so I’m pretty good at writing cars.
Avery drives an old Buick.
There’s a little nod to Otis
Redding in Gravity. I fell in love with him the first time I saw Pretty in Pink and Duckie sang
“Tenderness.” They don’t make songs like that anymore. Well…Jack White does.
Oooooh, you think someday Jack White would cover Otis? Speaking of cover songs,
that’s also a fairly heavy theme in the fabric of Mason’s character. His love
of covering great tunes was inspired by Greg Laswell’s cover of “Girls Just Wanna
Have Fun.”
The title, How We Deal With Gravity, came to me in seconds, and I never once
changed my mind. I wrote the prologue, and that was it.
Getting those scenes with Max just right was supremely important to
me. I’ve watched, interviewed and experienced many similar moments, but I had
two parents of children with autism beta read for me to make sure I hit the
nail on the head.
People judge without knowing all
of the facts. I wish we didn’t. But we do. So I guess I hope Gravity makes us think twice.
Series: Standalone
