Writing the book we wish we'd had as autistic kids.

We’re doing it for them. ↓

A vintage engraving style illustration of a dusty green rabbit jumping over typewriter text that reads, down the rabbit hole

We’re doing it for them. ↓

Collage of childhood photos Sarah with an awkward flat smile and a pink bow, Gracie peeking out from behind a wall. Both wearing ruffly dresses. Around age 5.

There is ONE DAY left to bring our picture book to life.

If you missed last week’s announcement I’m co-creating a picture book about neurodiversity and sensory processing with . This has been a whirlwind eight day campaign. We’re sitting at 70% funded with just one day to go. (The campaign closes Tuesday at midnight.)

Preorder or donate a copy here.

We will be connecting donations to school, libraries, and neurodivergent families. If you would like to choose the location you book is donated you absolutely can!

We’re writing the book we wish we had growing up.

Baby Sarah with a bunny cake side eyeing mother. Toddler Gracie in a blue romper with white shoes and lace socks. Toddler Sarah with a ruffled bloomers on head. Toddler Gracie in a cozy hoodie on slide.

Here’s a piece that Gracie wrote for Instagram about the why behind this book.

They didn’t know it then–that it wasn’t their fault. That they weren’t just weird. Too loud. Too shy. Too wiggly. Strange. Loners.

That others didn’t feel things the way they did.
That lacey socks didn’t make everyone’s skin crawl.
That other people didn’t find showers torturous.

Sarah in orange t-ball uniform squinting and holding bat. Gracie in a blue dress on a swing. Both around 5 years old.

They didn’t know that there were others like them,
who also collect keys (we both do),
And struggle with change,
And feel the creeping fear of being caught, in every second of every social interaction, if they don’t appear “normal” enough.

That their “flaws” weren’t really flaws–just differences.

That there were words to describe the way they experience the world.

Toddler Sarah in pool with big sun hat. Gracie with Tigger pjs and a Big Bird plushie. Sarah in a vintage chair with the same hat. Toddler Gracie climbing on a wooden playground.

We both grew up undiagnosed autistic (among other things–we’re both multiply neurodivergent), and it’s hard not to feel… a bit haunted by that. To look back at our past selves and wonder if they would have felt less ashamed, discouraged, lonely, if they’d known. But we know, too, that being diagnosed at an early age doesn’t make life easy, or magically mean everyone understands you. As much as we didn’t understand ourselves, neurotypical people didn’t understand us, either. Even if we’d known we were different, we didn’t have any of the words to try to explain how. What it feels like. Why it matters.

Young Sarah in Belle costume holding rose. Preteen Sarah walking a wire on a high ropes course. Preteen Gracie on monkey bars. Young Gracie in a Peter Pan costume.

That’s why we’re creating our picture book, How it Feels To Me.

It’s for neurotypical people, to understand more of how brains work in general, and why some of us might seem different.

It’s for neurodivergent people, to learn about themselves, & put some of how it feels into words, & find ways to express that to people who wouldn’t understand otherwise.

This book is focused on sensory processing, & the science of how brains work, but if you follow the threads deeper, it’s about a lot more than that.

In a lot of ways, we’re making it for our younger selves.

Sarah pointing and laughing in pink dress at 2-3 years old. Toddler Gracie putting a leaf in water. Toddler Gracie laughing on a swing.

To reach back through time, & yes, give them facts and words and tools to care for themselves–but even more so, to give them a hug if they want it, and a gentle whisper:

It’s okay, darling. You’re not alone.


We are 70% funded, & there’s ONE day left!

If you’d like to help make this book happen, now is the time!

Click here to preorder or to donate a book to a library, school, or neurodivergent family.


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