Something remarkable is appearing before my eyes.
When I write the way I think, my paragraphs have a fair amount of echolalia.
This is happening in my book Into the Deep.
I repeat things – say them either the same way, or in slightly different ways. But I repeat phrases. Sentences. And it serves a purpose. It serves as a gradual bridge from the feeling of one thought to the next, from one concept to the next.
It’s very synaesthetic. Very sensory. And it helps with the flow.
I’ll write more about this phenomenon later, but for now, let the record show that, when left to my own devices, when I don’t suppress it, echolalia shows up in my writing.
Maybe this is actually a more autistic way of writing, than how I was taught to write. Maybe this is me expressing myself in my naturally occurring state.
It’s more private than blogging, where I’m very cognizant of others reading and reacting to what I write. Writing a book is a private thing, a secret thing. For me, it’s an autistic thing.
So, why not write in a (my) naturally autistic style?