18 months and an agent pitch

Dear Ravi,

It has been exactly 18 months since you passed away in my arms. I miss you every day. I look for you in the cardinals and the newly budding flowers. I hold you in my heart forever. Tomorrow is a big day. I am attending an all-day writer’s conference and have an opportunity to pitch my manuscript to an agent! I am excited and very nervous. I cannot bring any notes with me into the pitch, relying only on memory and trusting that you and God will guide me. Follow along for my pitch:

The setting of this story is in St. Paul, MN, in my neighborhood and community, Bridge View School, a title 1 Level 4 school where the main character spent 13 happy years, and Masonic Children’s Hospital.

The main character of this memoir is a Houdin-esq young man by the name of Ravi Herndon. He has a penchant for colorful socks, jaunty chapeaus, Subway sandwiches, sour patch kids and Swedish fish. Due to his autism, he does not speak using mouth words but can communicate volumes.

There are three points of pivot in the manuscript. The first occurs when Ravi is 15 and develops treatment resistant epilepsy. The second happens when Ravi is 18. Though he has been in speech therapy since he was a 2-year-old, he never uttered a single mouth word. Therapists would offer him 2 or 3 choices on a sheet of paper, but he would not make a choice because he did not like what was offered. Teachers suggested that either he was a “non-communicator” or was “just slow”. I am here to tell you that all behavior is communication and that Ravi is not slow. In his 18th year he had a wonderful speech language pathologist who realized that Ravi did not need 2 or 3 choices, he needed over 100. We jumped through all sort of insurance hoops to get him an Augmentative Auxiliary Communication device, otherwise known as an AAC. This device allowed Ravi to tell us where he wanted to go, who he wanted to see, how he felt, to order from a menu, and many other options. Suddenly, 18 years of non-speaking broke forth from this AAC which we lovingly dubbed Sam. Ideas, and words, and complete sentences bubbled forth and it was game changer. It turns out that Ravi had a lot to say! The third transition occurs on December 9, 2022, when Ravi is diagnosed with Stage 4 Osteosarcoma, a rare and aggressive bone disease.

This manuscript grew out of a blog. When Ravi was diagnosed in 2004 there were much fewer autism diagnoses and even fewer supports. I had a highly anxious, non-speaking toddler with huge sensory issues. Somehow, I had to figure out the day-to-day things like brushing his teeth, washing his hair, clipping his nails, going to the doctor or dentist without causing him undue trauma. I began writing about our adventures in hopes of providing a road map for other parents of newly diagnosed children. I did not want them to have to recreate the wheel. Over time, the blog gained momentum and now reaches over 4,000 readers per year in at least 15 different countries. Parent, teachers, doctors and dentists began responding to me telling me how my blog had helped them better inform their practice.

Unlike many parenting memoirs on autism, this story does not end on a triumphant note where a therapist comes rushing in to save the day, Ravi begins speaking in mouth words and we all live happily ever after. Though this story does not end as how the reader might wish for Ravi, it does end on a note of strength and hope. Autistic services end when a child reaches adulthood. Modern medicine sometimes fails. My hope is that I have created a map to help parents advocate strongly and lovingly for their neurodiverse child in a world that often does not understand.