Author’s Note

The first time I heard of “high functioning” autism, previously known as Asperger’s Syndrome, was in a private discussion with my daughter’s preschool teacher. I was completely shocked by the teacher’s suggestion. While my girl was a handful, she didn’t fit my preconceptions of “autistic” at all. In my eyes, she’s always been just as she should be—a sweet little thing with a firecracker personality. I came home and did some quick research on the Internet, and my findings didn’t seem in line with my girl’s traits. Just to be sure, I asked my family members and her physician for their opinions, and results were unanimous: She was not autistic. They had to be right, and I let it go.

At least, I thought I did. Real Life Me let it go, but Writer Me was fascinated. You see, a gender-swapped Pretty Woman had been niggling at the back of my mind for quite some time, but I hadn’t been able to figure out why a successful beautiful woman would hire an escort. One autistic trait from my quick Internet research stuck with me: trouble with social skills. That was certainly something I could empathize with—and a compelling reason to hire an escort. What if my heroine was autistic like my daughter wasn’t? I needed to learn about this character.

I started to research in earnest, and I discovered the most interesting thing: There are books specifically for women on the spectrum. How come women need their own books? We’re all people. I figured men and women should be the same. I purchased Aspergirls by Rudy Simone.

The strangest feeling settled over me when I started reading her words, and it only got stronger as I delved deeper into the book. Apparently, there’s a major difference in the way autism is perceived between men and women. What I’d previously read described autistic men, but many autistic women, for a variety of reasons, mask their awkwardness and hide their autistic traits to be more socially acceptable. Even our obsessions and interests are generally tailored to be socially acceptable, like horses and music instead of license plate numbers that start with three. Because of this, women often go undiagnosed or are diagnosed later in life, frequently after their own children receive diagnoses. Women with Asperger’s exist in what people call the “invisible part of the spectrum.”

As I read Rudy Simone’s book, I found myself looking back at my own childhood and remembering a million little things, like how someone at school told me my facial expression was scary, and I spent hours and hours afterwards practicing in the mirror. Or how sometimes I got through the day by mimicking my favorite cousin’s mannerisms and speech patterns because she was popular and that had to be the right way to be, only it was so exhausting. Or how I used to tap my fingers one-three-five-two-four over and over in that pattern when I was nervous or bored, but I realized it annoyed people, so I started doing it on my teeth so no one could see or hear, and now I have early onset periodontal disease, but I can’t stop to save my life. Or the George Winston obsession that led me to teach myself to play the piano when I was a tiny thing and is still going strong decades later. Or, or, or . . .

What started as mere research for a book became a journey of self-realization. I learned that I am not alone. There are other people just like me and very possibly my daughter, too. As I pursued and eventually attained a diagnosis (at age thirty-four), Stella, my autistic heroine, was born on the page. It has never been so easy for me to write a character. I knew her intimately. She came from my heart. I didn’t have to filter my thoughts to make her socially acceptable, something I’d been unconsciously doing for ages. And this freedom allowed me to find my voice. Before this, I’d been using every other author’s writing style, trying to be someone else. When I wrote The Kiss Quotient, I became myself, and I’ve been unapologetically myself ever since. Sometimes instead of confining you, a label can set you free. At least, that was the case for me. I’ve started therapy to help with struggles I hadn’t known were common to people like me.

That said, I feel the need to point out that everyone on the spectrum has their own valid experiences, impairments, strengths, and points of view. My experience (and, therefore, Stella’s) is just one among many and cannot be taken as “standard.” There is no standard.

For interested parties, I found the following resources on autism spectrum disorder and Asperger’s to be informational but not boring:

All the best,
Helen Hoang