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All or nothing. This project will only be funded if it reaches its goal by .

$42,627 pledged of $22,000 goal
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All or nothing. This project will only be funded if it reaches its goal by .

Personal Essay: "Unlocking the Garret" by Rachel Swirsky

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You Magical Space Unicorns!  

The Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction/Uncanny Magazine Year 4 Kickstarter reached the next stretch goal of an Original Cover by Tran Nguyen! HUZZAH! 

Our next stretch goal is adding TWO stories to the Special Shared-Universe Dinosaur Issue through open submissions! Two amazing writers will join Sam J. Miller, Brooke Bolander, Mari Ness, A. Merc Rustad & Elsa Sjunneson-Henry, JY Yang, K.M. Szpara, and Nicasio Andres Reed! More for you to read! We just need to hit $36,000! 

Dinosaurs Writers
Dinosaurs Writers

Thank you once again for all of your support, Space Unicorns. We are getting closer and closer to a Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction PRINT EDITION!  

Here is today's new Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction personal essay (edited by Nicolette Barischoff). These essays, much like their counterparts in the previous Destroy Kickstarters, will feature disabled creators sharing what it is like being a disabled person in the science fiction community. 

Shine on, Space Unicorns!

"Unlocking the Garret" by Rachel Swirsky

It’s in the stereotype. The artist of tempestuous temperament who drinks to excess as he stumbles, lean and tuberculotic, up the winding steps to his garret. Van Gogh cut off his ear. Plath put her head in the oven. The artist is passionate; the artist is mercurial; the artist is mad.

Sometimes stereotypes do hold a shard of truth.

I don’t know why there’s a connection between creativity and madness. One could provoke the other; both could be caused by another factor. It could be inherent. It could be cultural. Whatever the why, there’s a high frequency of mental illness among artists.

Despite this, we rarely talk about how mental illness affects the work. Taboos about discussing personal experiences with mental illness remain, promoted by shame and ignorance. In this toxic fog, the stereotype of the mad artist looms large, discouraging some from even seeking treatment because they believe creativity can only persist in the garret.

I have bipolar disorder—the second type, the one that lacks extremely high mood. I’ve been in treatment for ten years or so, and I’m lucky in that medications work for me. They don’t work for everybody, and for some people, they come with unbearable side effects. Still, disability remains something I have to navigate daily, and it probably always will be.

There are many needful conversations about creativity and disability, but this is not the space for all of them, nor am I the person to start them all. What I can offer best is these few pieces of pragmatic advice for other writers with chronic disabilities.

(Although the bulk of this essay concerns bipolar disorder, what I have to say may be generalizable to some other illnesses, especially because I also have chronic migraines. This advice, like any advice, is meant to assist, not to mandate. Always do what’s healthy for you.)

  • It’s okay not to write every day. Many writing teachers and classes are emphatic about the “write every day” thing, but it’s just one way of being a writer. I know successful writers who do and successful writers who don’t. If your illness is flaring, and you need time off, take it. It’s not laziness or dereliction of duty. It’s taking care of yourself, and if you don’t take care of yourself, you might end up worse later.
  • There are many different ways to interact with writing and publishing. While many people enjoy networking and conventions, some disabilities like social anxiety or acute pain can make it arduous or even impossible. Time spent socializing can yield opportunities—but time spent researching yields ideas and realism, and time spent writing yields more fiction to sell. You’re also less likely to be good at something you find miserable, so the time you spend on it has diminishing returns. You don’t have to force yourself to do something you hate.
  • You don't have to be tough. People sometimes say things like, "If you can be discouraged from writing, you should be," and use that as a way to justify being unkind to people who are tender. I don't think it's meant as a cudgel against disabled people specifically, but it can function as one. If you doubt your abilities, if you are sometimes crushed, if you feel like an impostor—that's fine. It's normal. If only tough people wrote stories, then we'd only have their perspectives, and we would lose all the things other people—you—have to offer.
  • Be kind to yourself. This career is high stress, and anxiety and depression can make that worse. It can be easy to focus only on the negative, and to blame oneself for everything that doesn’t go right. It can spiral into self-doubt or self-hatred. If that’s happening to you, it’s probably unjustified. When you regard yourself, look with a generous lens. Give time and attention to your successes. Try to see yourself through the eyes of someone who loves you—if you’re very depressed, what they see may be much more accurate than what you do.
  • Writers don’t have to be depressed. Many writers have mood disorders, but many don’t. Many authors who have mood disorders treat those disorders with therapy and/or medication, and continue to be writers even when their symptoms improve. Their examples prove that treatment can help depression without curing creativity. Some people do experience difficulty writing when they take some psychoactive medications, though they may not continue to have trouble if they switch to a different type. Many writers—like me—find medication helps unlock their creativity. Treatment enhances my productivity by cutting down the amount of time I’m too sick to work. Treatment for you might look very different from treatment for me, but please, take care of yourself. Unlock the garret.
Rachel Swirsky
Rachel Swirsky

Rachel Swirsky graduated from Clarion West in 2005 and holds a masters degree in fiction from the Iowa Writers Workshop. Her work has been nominated for the Locus, Hugo, Sturgeon, and World Fantasy Awards. She's twice won the Nebula Award, in 2010 for her novella "The Lady Who Plucked Red Flowers beneath the Queen's Window," and in 2013 for her short story "If You Were a Dinosaur, My Love." She's an avid fan of Lewis Carroll: "We're all mad here."

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