Author of the novel WHEN YOU LOSE CONTROL

I wish I were human. I try so hard to be. I don't understand emotions; mine are ALWAYS wrong. 'Wrong.' I desperately don't understand what you people want from me. "Feel your feelings!" But when I do, I'm called weak, or it's assumed I'm melting down, or someone gets PISSED. If I keep my emotions buried deep, where I prefer them, where I can pretend they don't exist, I'm weird, or closed off, etc. Honestly, tell me what to feel, and I'll fake it. I will. It's just easier. I hate being me; I hate that my brain never shuts off; I hate that my anxiety is a medieval prison/torture chamber where I am worried- ice cold, panicked, worried- at LITERALLY all times, even when I sleep. I'm always tired. I'm autistic, I'm neurodivergent, and being near normies makes me exhausted. And hey, I'm masking 99% of the time anyway, so if you need me to fake the 'correct' emotion, I will. Whatever it takes to get through the day.

I've never grown out of my black combat boot phase.  I loved them when I was 11 and buying my first pair at KMart, and the cashier laughed at them.  I loved them when I was in high school, and Daria appeared in the TV lexicon, my cartoon twin sister in clothes, face, and demeanor.  I loved them when I wore my sturdiest pair for nine days while exploring San Francisco.  I love them now as I wear an old pair, comfy and formed to my feet.  I don't know how or why I ever started to like these shoes in the first place. Is it that they're unfeminine? Manly? Gender norms about clothes (and really, any gender norm, FFS) are so stupid and outdated, so maybe it's been a matter of subconscious protest? Is it that basic black goes with everything and is also my favorite color? Perhaps it's the comfort factor or unique rebel style. But maybe it's that being a woman, a clumsy and unfeminine one, is a battle. Who's to say? I love my big black combat boots. I think I always

I don't know if I'll continue with this blog. I don't care for blogging as a platform, and anywhere you want to submit writing says any work that's 'good' shouldn't be given away for free.  I started this blog when I started pitching my novel since I 'had' to have a social media presence. It was the same with my Twitter account. Neither brings me joy, and I feel like both are pretty pointless. So, that's where I'm at. I'm not going to say, at least for now, that I'm done with both. I've learned enough never to say never, but it'll be a while before I get back to either, if ever.  I've also soured on writing. The publication process is excruciating, and I have, for now, nothing left in me to write. I have a trilogy of novels started that I'd like to get back to, so if I can muster up any enthusiasm for that, that's where I'd like to spend my writing time.   Happy 2024

My #debutnovel is out today!! It's available from #Amazon in #Kindle and #paperback.  When You Lose Control https://a.co/d/6n9VNMR 1,028 days from start to publication. Lots of tears. Soo many tears. Lots of support from a few people. Endless editing. What a relief. If you check out #mybook, please enjoy it, and I'll return to my blog in 2024.  Have a lovely rest of the year. Melissa 

This blog will take a brief hiatus for the holiday. 

There's not a lot of autistic female representation. Finally, having someone to look up to, someone who went through eerily similar things to you is so strangely and wonderfully freeing. I wouldn't want anyone to go through what I did as a kid, but having some solidarity and understanding is incredible. I feel so seen and validated.  I'm so thrilled and grateful that, due to my splendid boyfriend and his lovely daughter, I had the pleasure of seeing and meeting Fern Brady. She was hilarious on stage (obviously) and kind enough to chat with fans after the show. She signed my book, and I teared up as I thanked her for writing it. Thank you for being you, Fern. Thank you for what needed to be said.