Fallout from Floppy book promotion

The drama of talking to strangers about disability, part I

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So I’ve had a bumpy time figuring how to talk to people about Floppy. 

Early on, a lady in a vibrant pashmina shawl came up to me after a reading to say I was her new favorite writer. (I know, right? Dreamy.) “It was so funny and compelling!” she said. 

She then flipped over the copy of Floppy I’d just inscribed to her and started reading snippets from the back cover out loud “but chronic illness,’” she said. “Diagnosis…all this ‘freak of nature’ stuff is going to turn people away.”

For a second, I wondered if I’d done a terrible job writing the book description. If only I’d tweaked a few words, maybe readers wouldn’t run away screaming from a secretly compelling book? 

But then I came to. The disability bit is…key to the story. 

Floppy ties together “disjointed” moments—some more darkly humorous than others—into a narrative arc about homecoming to a body that requires a significant shift away from the ableist mindset that a person must forever be “pushing through.” 

At some point, I think most of us have to moderate that nonsense in our heads to avoid (or recover from) burnout, so I maintain that my story applies universally.

So what gives? How can a person love my book but suggest I leave the chronic illness out of it? 

I think the main disconnect is that a foundational ableist stereotype is that disability is depressing, and that disabled people are necessarily sad and embittered, or worse, “inspirational” just for being alive (I won’t get into the “inspiration porn” thing here, but if you’ve never heard the term, it might be worth a quick Google).  

A reader has to do some pretty fancy mental footwork to conclude that Floppy isn’t actually about disability at all because they found it compelling.

So, in the next phase, I started emphasizing the humor in Floppy. That it’s both about disability and, well, not a downer. I overdid it with the humor emphasis, actually, but I’ll save my reflection on those jarring interactions for a future post.

Anyway.

And then there are times when I get emails like the one I got last week from a woman who has a similar suite of conditions. She told me that after reading Floppy, she was able to—for the first time in her life—construct a history for herself that didn’t include “neurotic malingering, hysterical attention-seeking, or pure-d laziness.”

Feedback like that really makes this whole writing thing worthwhile. 

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Gift idea!

Do you know someone with a chronic illness or invisible disability? Do they hate being seen as a “neurotic malingerer?” Maybe they’ll also find Floppy refreshing and compelling.

Signed, personalized copies are now available through my online shop! Free shipping on everything until the end of the year.